Tick tock.

The clock was chiming away its repetitive song as Percy's frustration mounted. The café was utterly silent, due to its not-so-baffling lack of customers. The secluded café was hidden behind an extremely famous restaurant, which was, no doubt, a rather…strange move on the part of the owner. It was filthy; the dust gathered nearly an inch high on the tables and the coffee quite tasteless and cold. It was the perfect place for Percy to start his letter. You know, if he knew how to start.

It had been over an hour since he had randomly driven here, sat down, ordered one of those terrible coffees, found a small piece of scrap paper and a pen in his car and tried to begin a letter to Annabeth that was sensitive, sweet and apologetic. The confidence he had begun with had slowly started to waver around the twentieth minute, the same time he had abandoned his now ice cold coffee.

Now, he was just plain mad.

He didn't know how to do this, and that was crystal clear by the numerous crosses on the paper.

Dear Annabeth,

I just want to say I'm sorry. I mean, I've already said that, but this time I truly mean it. I love you a lot. And I hope you know that. Please just come back. I need you more than I need life. I think you're amazing, and I miss you so much. I'm sorry. You're honestly the best thing that's ever happened to me. I can't live without you.

Percy ran a hand through his hair, and shuffled the paper, letting out a frustrated sigh. Why was this so hard? Everything seemed either too cheesy or too unnatural or too awkward. He could just imagine Annabeth's expression when she opened his letter – her nose would crinkle, like she smelled an unpleasant odor, and her eyebrows would twitch.

"It's just a stinking letter." Percy growled. "Stupid Nico."

Percy grumbled on for a little bit before the waitress behind the counter threw him a dirty, suspicious look. Percy immediately quieted, and tried to stare at the paper intensely, hoping a sudden spark of inspiration would smack him over the head. It didn't.

Tick tock.

Placing her bags outside the plain, white door, Annabeth entered the minimally furnished room where she would spend the next few months until she found a decent, yet cheap, apartment. It included an average-sized bed with no special covers, a desk and a basic chair that didn't look particularly comfy. It was small, but bright, due to the daylight streaming directly in through a small window above the desk. Annabeth immediately went over to the window, squinting, and closed the blinds, immersing the room in a dull darkness. This was how she preferred it.

Annabeth sank to the ground, her eyes burning with the tears that didn't stop flowing all through the plane ride here. For the past two hours all she could think about was Percy. Just Percy with his hair, his eyes, his soft smile, and his hilarious awkwardness that came across as sweet and innocent to Annabeth. She sat there on the uncomfortable hardwood floor, her back tensed against the blank wall, her eyes puffy and red.

As soon as a knock sounded on the door, Annabeth wiped her face quickly, and sniffled, "Come in." Unfortunately, her voice was still weak and crackly.

Annabeth's dad poked his head through the door, his glasses sliding down his nose. "Hey, Annabeth."

"Hey, Dad." Annabeth quickly stood, inconspicuously wiping her nose on her sleeve.

"You okay?"

Annabeth nodded, and changed the subject frantically. After all, her father was certainly not the person to talk to about relationships. "Thanks for letting me stay here for a while."

"Oh, no problem." Annabeth's dad shuffled his feet, sliding his hands into his pants' pockets. "Sorry, it's not much."

"No, it's fine." Annabeth said hastily.

"Why is it so dark in here?" Annabeth's dad said, pushing his glasses up his nose, then walking over to the window and pulling up the blinds. Annabeth squinted against the direct light penetrating her eyes, and blocked it with her arm.

"Thanks, Dad." Annabeth rocked back and forth on her feet, not knowing what to say next.

Her dad nodded slowly, looking around the uninteresting room, only for the sake of doing something. "Do you want to come eat lunch?"

Annabeth glanced at her watch, and realized with a startle that it was nearly two. It only seemed like a few minutes ago (although it had been nearly six hours) that she had left Chicago…perhaps forever. She blinked multiple times, almost getting angry because the tears just wouldn't stop. "Yes, let's go." Annabeth left the room hurriedly, leaving her dad in a confused state, wondering why his daughter was being so…unlike herself.

He didn't know what had happened – she had simply called him up out of the blue, about a week ago, saying she was coming home to spend a month or two there until she managed to find an apartment here in New York City. It was random, and he couldn't help but hear her voice was expressionless and slightly down when she had called him. It came as a shock, because was he remembered Annabeth as sarcastic, laughing, and witty. That person on the phone wasn't…anything.

Annabeth walked through the slightly familiar house, which was just as grandly decorated as she recalled – lots of upscale furniture and larger than necessary windows, which Annabeth adored.

"Annabeth." Her stepmother appeared from behind a corner, surprising Annabeth into jumping backwards.

"Lisa." Annabeth responded blankly. She was completely indifferent to her stepmother, a woman who dressed in outrageously expensive clothing, and had big hair.

In other words, Annabeth hated her.

However, it was only fair that she tried to put her best foot forward. "How are you?" Annabeth struggled out.

"Fine. How did you like your room?" Her stepmother said, examining Annabeth, and easily spotting the puffiness around her eyes. Her stepmother's eyes narrowed.

"It's great. Thanks for letting me stay here."

"Sure." Her stepmother smiled, which really threw Annabeth for a spin.

Annabeth made it into the kitchen, where she found a pair of baby blue eyes peeking out at her from behind the counter.

"Hey, Samantha." Annabeth smiled, but the little girl's eyes grew wide. She immediately turned and ran away, probably to her mother, who would comfort her from the 'crazy' stepsister.

Annabeth sighed – of course; they all thought she was strange and crazy, just because of her powers. In her stepmother's words, she was 'a nuisance and a danger to the family'. What had Annabeth done by coming here? She lost everything, and gained nothing.

She let her head collapse into her arms, resting them on the counter. From somewhere in the house, she could hear her stepmother's whiny voice combating her dad's calm one.

"How long does she have to stay here, Michael?"

"As long as she wants, Lisa. She's my daughter, for God's sake."

"She could be dangerous. What about your kids?"

"My kids? She is my kid, and I'm going to take care of her."

"But Michael –"

"Look, Lisa, just deal with it for a while. I'll make sure she has an apartment and is gone by the end of next week. Okay?"

As her stepmother agreed reluctantly, Annabeth could sense they were heading for the kitchen. By the time they got there, however, Annabeth was gone.

The waitress was taking too long with Annabeth's coffee. How did Annabeth know? Well, she had had over five minutes to stand at the sparkling counter and mull over the huge mistake she had made until she had, yet again, brought unwanted tears to her eyes.

"No. Stop acting like an idiot." Annabeth gritted her teeth. Her coffee came at last, sliding down the counter, straight in front of her.

The simplest fact was that she was home – where she had spent the maximum amount of her life. All she needed to do to forget about Percy was to go around and explore the place that she once knew so well.

Taking her coffee in her hand, Annabeth walked out of the door with a newfound desire to forget, and move on. New York was full of possibilities – she just needed to find one, and then latch on to it like a leech.

She found her opportunity in the middle of Central Park. Perhaps it was fate, perhaps it was the Gods, or perhaps it was just a coincidence, but it did come rather suddenly and unexpectedly. It also came in the form of a very old, familiar friend.