Hey everyone! I'm so sorry it's been so long! Oh geez, I feel really bad for making you wait so long, but I promise to do better. What you are about to read has been written roughly one-two sentences a day for the most part. I'm not exaggerating... well, maybe a little. I am feeling SO much better now, and have started really getting back into writing. Last night I was looking at my old stories and thought it was about time to woman up and get back on the horse (not literally), because you guys are worth it.

I HOPE YOU ENJOY, AND I REALLY AM SORRY!

-Allislove123

Disclaimer - As much as I wish it were so, I do not own these characters, nor the Heroes Of Olympus franchise *wipes away tear*

Piper's POV

I know what you're probably thinking. I'm an idiot. And yes, I probably am. Big time. But maybe being stupid or foolhardy is useful in some situations. Because right now as I see Jason sitting across the table from me, his face deadly serious, a gun in his hand, I am not afraid.

'This one I think will work for you.' He tells me, sliding the pistol across the table and into the waiting embrace of my outstretched hand. I pick it up and weigh it in my palm, inspecting it closely. It is well balanced and feels steady in my grasp. I nod at him, satisfied.

It has been two days since our dramatic escape from the battle of our respective gangs. Jason has left every day to get food, while I pace up and down in anguish over the fate of my friends, and wild schemes and ideas for daring rescue missions chase each other in a futile, confusing dance around the inside of my skull.

Considering how rather embarrassingly chatty I was when I first woke up in the hotel, we have talked very little these past few days. I know Jason saved my life, swore to never harm me, even vowed to help rescue my friends, but still I can not bring myself to trust him. Not entirely. One moment he looks at me with what I can only guess is fondness, the next his eyes cloud over and he glares at me as though I am a threat. Right now however, his face is impassive, his expression unreadable. We are in the middle of a delicious dinner of gatorade and SpaghettiO's (yum), purchased in Jason's latest shopping excursion.

'Does this mean you're finally setting me free?' I ask hopefully as I slide the gun into my jacket pocket, only half joking. He doesn't crack a smile.

'I keep telling you, you're not a prisoner. I'm trying to keep you safe.' I sigh, this again.

'I know.' I tell him for what seems like the millionth time. 'I just don't see why we can't go get my friends out now. It just doesn't make any sense to wait, we don't have anything to wait for.'

'Piper, it's really not a good idea. At least-' he continues hastily after seeing my expression. 'Not until we have a plan. A really good plan.' he adds.

I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose. The pain in my head has died down, but when the stress and anguish reach intensity, they begin to manifest themselves in the form of headaches, and right now I am doing all within my power to keep this one at bay enough to think clearly.

'Let's start with the basics.' I tell him, keeping my voice level. 'Where are they?' Jason hesitates, developing a sudden interest in the grained wood of the table, not meeting my gaze. 'Jason, where are they?' A sudden thought occurs to me and I reel back from him in horror at the very idea. 'They aren't...' I struggle to convert my ragged breath into the necessary words but find they won't come out. Jason looks up at me.

'I don't think so.' he tells me earnestly, his blue eyes sparkling. 'They won't want to kill them when there's information to be got out of them. They'll keep them alive to interrogate them about where the rest of you are hiding.' I nod. It makes sense, I suppose.

'But where are they?' Jason sighs in resignation.

'My guess is, they were taken to the Senate house.'

'What's the senate house?' I ask immediately, relieved we're finally getting somewhere.

'It's where all our operations are based, and all our missions planned. It's the centre of life for the Romans.

But how do I save them? I lean forward and put my head in my hands. 'Do you think there's a way for me- us to get in undetected?' He shifts uncomfortably, looking desperate to change the subject.

'Look, I really don't think now's the time to be discussing this-'

'But you've been saying that for two days already!' I point out. He sighs, exasperated.

'And I keep telling you, it's dangerous. I haven't thought of a way for us to get in, and once we are in, I have no idea how we'd get out. Just give me some more time to-'

'We don't have more time.' I put my head in my hands, and groan in frustration. 'If only Annabeth were here. She'd think up a plan to get them all out like that.' I snap my fingers. Jason laughs somewhat nervously.

'Am I supposed to know who that is?'

'No, I suppose not. But Annabeth is the smartest person you'll ever meet. Seriously, it's humbling just to be in her presence. She's my oldest friend,' I wrap an arm around my middle, trying to hold myself together.

'And she's good with strategy?' he asks, sounding genuinely interested.

'Oh yeah. Back home, she was always the one to plan our operations. Well, at least the ones we were allowed to plan. She was...' I pause, disgusted at how smoothly I slipped from "is" to "was". 'Is one of the best people I've ever met. She's the one who found me. After I... I lost my parents.'

'She was in your legion?' I look at him confused. 'Oh, a legion is what we call the groups we have dotted around New York.'

'Oh, right.' I smile at him. 'We call them cabins. There are 12 in all, and there were 7 people in mine, including Annabeth and I.'

We sit in silence for a while, each of us too wrapped up in our own thoughts, and the silence between us seems to expand, containing all the unanswered questions we are aching to ask each other.

Finally, Jason speaks. 'Do you miss them? Your parents, I mean.' I don't look at him when I answer.

'No. Not really. It still hurts sometimes. And every now and again I still cry about them, but I don't miss them so much anymore.' he nods. The way he's staring about me makes me uncomfortable, and I do my best to shift the focus back to him.

'How about you? Do you miss your mom?'

His gaze slides from my face to the plastic bowl containing his dinner. He shakes his head too fast, too many times. 'Not anymore. She's gone, and there's nothing that can change that, so might as well forget about it. Doesn't do any good to dwell on the past. Gotta keep moving, you know?' I stare at him, still trying my best to figure him out.

'I don't know, I think maybe there's a difference between dwelling on the past and honoring the memory of someone. You don't have to forget about your mom completely to move on with your life.' He shrugs one shoulder, then looks up and gives me a smile that does not quite reach his eyes. 'Why did we- they kill her?'

'It was an accident. We were walking down the street, a car full of Greeks came by, and we were caught in a crossfire. My mom tried to pull me across the road, but we were just too slow I guess.' He meets my gaze, and gives a hollow smile. 'So, they killed both your parents?'

I sigh. 'No. My dad was killed when they broke into our apartment. I never knew why. I tried to help, but this big dude had hold of me, there was nothing I could do. My mom was taken away.'

'Why didn't they take you?' I smile and force an airy laugh up past my teeth.

'Oh, they tried.' he raises an eyebrow as if to say "Do I dare ask?" I shrug. 'I stabbed him in the leg.' Jason tries to suppress a snort of laughter. I find myself grinning rather bashfully, though we both know this should not be funny.

'How old were you?'

'7.'

'You were 7 and you stabbed a grown man in the leg?' now he's definitely smiling, and looks rather impressed.

I shrug once again. 'It was his own fault, we were standing right next to the kitchen counter. I just grabbed the nearest thing I could use as a weapon and made a run for it. Didn't stop to think. I guess I would feel kinda bad for the guy accept... well, you know.' I tale off inconclusively. He nods, looking sympathetic.

'And you haven't seen your mom since?' I blink rapidly several times, swallowing thickly. Even after all these years, I am still not terribly comfortable talking about them. I doubt I ever will be. 'Sorry,' Jason says hastily. 'Sorry, we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.'

'No, I haven't seen her.' I answer him, ignoring his hasty apologies. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to keep myself from asking the next question. What good will it do? It's pointless. Don't ask, Piper. Just move on already! But I find my lips moving against my will, forming the words I'm not sure I want the answer to. 'Do you know where she might be?' And just like that, with that one question, I am once again the little girl crouching behind a dumpster. Lost, scared, desperate for a friend.

He looks startled at my sudden question, and then seems to develop a sudden interest in the ingredients list on his bottle of gatorade. I don't take my gaze off of him, my eyes narrowed in suspicion. He knows something. I can see it. At last, he sighs and gives me an answer. 'Violence isn't the only tradition we got from the Romans.' he looks directly into my eyes. I try to understand what he means, when suddenly it hits me, like a sucker punch to the gut. Slavery.

Well, I guess it makes sense. I mean why else would they take my mother? She was 36 years old, and very beautiful. I can see the appeal she would hold for them. My cheeks burn with anger.

'But I don't know for sure.' he tells me hurriedly. 'Maybe she got away. Maybe they let her go.'

I don't look at him. 'Yeah.' I mutter. I think of my poor mother, locked up who-knows-where, likely never to glimpse freedom again. I want to help her. I want to find her, to save her, to make sure she's ok. To punish whatever scumbag has ever dared to harm her. But of course, I can't. I can't save anybody. Not my mother, not my father, not my friends.

You could have. A voice hisses at me from the dark recesses of my mind. But what did you do? You ran. Left them to die. With these words, I feel the guilt, a great octopus in my stomach, wrapping its tentacles around my lungs and heart, squeezing the life out of them, out of me. I look at Jason, and I can tell by his alarmed look that my face does not do a very good job of hiding my inner turmoil.

'I shouldn't have left them, Jason.' I croak, my voice cracking. In this moment, Jason looks as though he would rather juggle porcupines with his butt-cheeks than have this conversation again.

'Piper, for the last time, you didn't do anything wrong! You saw your chance to get out, you took it. It's just self-preservation. In hindsight it was probably the right choice.' It takes me a moment to arrange my thoughts sufficiently to respond to this.

'You're saying... that abandoning my friends was the right thing to do?' His eyes go all wide and innocent.

'Oh no no no!' Pause. 'But, also yes.' he says sheepishly.

'Oh, so it's ok that I left my friends alone to be captured? It's ok that I didn't even glance over my shoulder when they were being led away to what is very likely their deaths?'

'No, of course I'm not!' He defends himself vehemently. 'I'm just saying that sometimes bad things happen, and there's nothing you can do about it. There was nothing you could have done for them if you'd stayed.'

'You don't know that.'

'Oh come on, Piper. We both know that if you'd stayed, you'd have been captured too. So stop thinking about them already, and count your blessings that you're safe.'

I look at him, and as I do, I can feel the burn in my cheeks slowly but surely spreading up to my eyes, making them prickle and the edges of my vision go blurry. I don't want to cry. Not again. I look at him, and the burn in my eyes, and the burn in my cheeks spreads to my throat, and to my chest and to every other part of me, flowing through my whole body until my ears are ringing and my hands are trembling and there doesn't seem to be enough oxygen in the room.

'I have to help my friends.' I tell him fiercely. He closes his eyes, looking pained.

'Piper, I'm just trying to keep you safe-'

'Well who's keeping them safe, huh? You expect me to just sit back and relax while they're being kept prisoner by a bunch of murderers and psychopaths?'

'Hey, they're not all bad.' And now he sounds angry, and that hard, cold look has come back into his eyes. I snort, and stand up from the table.

'You don't get it. Those people helped me when no one else would. They took me in, they gave me food, warmth, friendship. And now you expect me to just abandon them, to protect myself? What kind of person do you think I am? Those people are my friends!' He doesn't say anything, so I carry on. 'But then, I guess you Romans wouldn't understand that.' Without warning, he jumps to his feet with such force that his chair topples backwards. He slams his fist down hard against the table top.

'What the hell is that supposed to mean?' I recover from my shock and give him the coldest, most penetrating stare I can manage.

'You really expect me to believe that an organization who would leave a 7 year old homeless and orphaned could understand friendship?'

'You're one to talk! You people killed my mother!'

'You said yourself that was an accident!' We are glaring at each other with a vengeance each of us feels is entirely justified.

'No matter what you say, I'm going to help them.' I tell him, my voice shaking with the effort to keep it at a reasonable volume.

'And how exactly were you planning on doing that? Just march in there and demand they be released?'

'You got a better idea?' I challenge, folding my arms across my chest. 'I owe those people my life, and nothing you say could make me turn my back on them!' He is fuming now. I barely remember what started this argument, but I don't care. I feel the anger creeping into every nook and cranny of my being, forcing out all sense, to be replaced only with a searing heat. And I love it. This is just what I need; an excuse to kick and scream and lash out. I need to feel something other than this all-consuming guilt, and right now, anger seems like the best option.

'Stop being stupid! I'm not asking you to turn your back on them, just to think about this logically. If we're going to get them out, we need a plan, we need-'

'Oh don't pretend you have any intention of getting them out of there!' he stops mid-sentence, and stares at me wide eyed. The moment I say it, I know it's true. And I know that I have known it for a while. 'Don't think I don't know what you're doing! You're playing for time. You're stalling, hoping that they'll be killed, and then there won't be any need to rescue them!' He splutters indignantly.

'You don't know what you're talking-'

'Oh don't I? I'm onto your games; dancing around the subject, never wanting to talk about what might be happening to them, insisting that we need a plan, but refusing to actually help me think of one!' He says nothing, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. 'But then, what else could I expect? After all, you're one of them. Nothing but a bunch of low-down, selfish, murdering-'

With a strangled yell Jason seizes the bowl containing his dinner and hurls it across the room, where it smashes against the wall, the plastic breaking into a million pieces. Jason's shoulders are shaking with rage, but I am too filled with adrenaline to feel scared. Before the shards of broken plastic have hit the floor, I have turned on my heel and stalked away towards the door of the bedroom in which I have been sleeping for the past few nights.

'Don't you dare walk away from me-' Jason starts to shout, but I turn to him, and he falls instantly silent. My cheeks and eyes are still burning, but now there is no danger of tears. The anger has left as suddenly as it began, leaving me sagging and empty, like a deflated zeppelin.

'You should have killed me when you had the chance.' And with that, I slam the door behind me.

Jason's POV

It's not true. It's not true. It's not true. But it is. I know it is. I sink down to the ground and cradle my head in my hands, my shoulders still shaking with rage. Piper was right. She was right about everything. Well, maybe not everything, but I do have to give her some credit. She's smarter than I would have guessed. I groan angrily. Honestly, it's just my luck to be stuck in a hotel with someone as perceptive as she is.

I don't want to admit that what she said about me was right, but if I'm being wholly honest, and since this does seem like a moment for telling the truth, the thought of rescuing her friends from captivity never so much as crossed my mind. Of course, I wouldn't tell her that. What if she did something stupid, like attempt to rescue them herself? Practically every minute of every day she asks me how we might go about freeing her friends, and every day I reply that I am thinking about it, and that a problem of this capacity requires a great deal of thought. After all, one doesn't go about breaking into the Senate House when you don't know the way in. I'll let you in on a secret; there is no way into the Senate House. The only way to get in is through the front door. And there's no way you'd ever get through that. Not unless you're either a Roman, or a prisoner. And right now, Piper is neither.

I would like to say that I have been trying to keep Piper safe. That that is my excuse for keeping her locked up in this grotty hotel for days on end. That that is my excuse for not rescuing her friends... But it's not. At least, not entirely. That's not to say that I don't want to keep Piper out of harm's way, of course I do. But a thought still nags at the back of my mind, impossible to ignore; is she worth it? Is she worth sacrificing everything and everyone I have ever known? Is she worth sacrificing my way of life? Impulse brought be to rescue her from the battle, and while I do not regret that decision, I can't help but wonder whether it was the right thing to do. I have always been taught to hate the Greeks, and in exchange I was given a home, a family, something to fight for. And now I have abandoned that home, deserted that family, and simply because for the first time in my life, I couldn't kill a Greek.

Sighing, I get to my feet, feeling bone tired. I walk to the far wall, and pick up the broken remains of the bowl, scraping SpagghettiO's off the dusty carpet. What do I do now? I can't go back to the Romans, not after running out on them. I guess my only option is to stay here, on the run with Piper, never to see my friends again, having lost the closest thing to a family that I have had since I was seven. And suddenly, another option appears in my mind. For a moment it shines, bright and glorious, the perfect solution, before my mind recoils from it in disgust. But still the idea lingers... I could take Piper prisoner. No. No I can't do that, I told her to trust me. But then again, if she wants to see her friends so bad, that may be the only way. And besides, she's not my responsibility. She's just a Greek. An enemy. A threat.

My mind starts to spin, and I stand abruptly. I walk to Piper's door, and without a sound, turn the handle. It opens just a crack, and I can see Piper curled up on the bed, sound asleep. She looks so peaceful, so innocent, and so very very beautiful. I look at her and as usual my heart slowly begins to melt, but then I remind myself who she is. She is a Greek, she is my enemy, she is not to be trusted. The numbness I have felt for years begins to reassert itself, and I welcome it. I am a soldier, I have to do my duty. But still, I am not sure. I sigh, and stare at her. What do I do?

And just like that, I make my decision. I know what I must do. God help me, I know...

Percy's POV

They lead me down the corridor through which they lead us what now feels like years ago. A guard walks on either side of me, one silent and impassive as a mountain, the other chuckling unpleasantly, grinning with glee. I vaguely wonder what time it is. How long have I been here? How much time has passed since I last saw daylight? I have no idea. Night, day. Day, night. All the same.

They lead me further down the hallway, into the belly of the beast. We continue walking until we get to a low doorway, rather like that of an office. Accept for the words printed neatly at eye level. I barely have time to make them out before the door is wrenched open and I am pushed roughly inside; Interrogation Room. Inside the room stand about five people, some men, some boys. I recognize that blonde kid, the one who lead the group to capture us. Octavian.

'Ah, good to see you again, Graecis.' His greeting is cheerful, but his eyes are that of a shark. My blood runs cold just looking at them. They are empty, like two black holes in the middle of his face. 'If you would please sit.' He gestures politely to a table in the center of the room, a chair on either side.

'No. I'll rather stand.' The friendly smile freezes in place.

'I asked you to sit down.' He says quietly. Reluctantly, I go to the table and take my seat. My heart is pounding out a ragged beat, and I can feel fear and panic begin to take over. I know what is coming, and I try to mentally prepare myself for what I'm sure won't be a pleasant experience.

'Good.' Octavian sits down opposite me. The other inhabitants of the room do not move, or even speak. In that moment, it seems no one dares to even breathe. 'Now then, let's get down to business. Where is the Greek headquarters located?' he asks imperiously.

'I don't know.' my answer comes automatically, and Octavian's smile widens.

'Yes you do.' He's right.

'I don't.'

'Things will be a lot easier for you if you don't lie to me.'

'I'm not lying, I don't know where it is.' I lie smoothly. He sighs, looking as though he's enjoying himself. I hope he can't see how terrified I am.

'Let's try something else then. Who do you serve?' He speaks with a surety bordering on arrogance, as though he expects an answer. But so far, whenever I refuse to give him one, his smile seems to grow even wider. What is he up to?

'Serve?' I ask.

'Yes. Who is your master?'

'I serve nobody but myself.' He looks at me quizzically, as though trying to make up his mind about something.

'Very well then, take off your shirt, Graecis.'

'W-what? Why?' I splutter.

'We have ways of making you talk. Now take it off, or I shall have one of my men do it for you.' Slowly, questioningly, I raise my shirt over my head, unsure what to make of all this. Octavian smiles still wider, and turns to face a boy standing in the far corner.

'Bryce, I think it's time.' Bryce grins a gap-toothed grin and shuffles over, unclipping something from his belt. Instantly, I realize what it is. It is a whip, but not just any whip. I recognize it from the pages the of history textbooks I would read as a young boy. A Cat O' Nine Tails. Nine individual chords of rope attached to the same handle, each one tipped at the end with a small metal ball, covered with spikes. My breathing grows faster as my lungs seem to be shrinking in on themselves. I can't think. I'm suffocating. And now Octavian is uncurling the whip, and walking around the table, caressing the handle of the whip lovingly. He stops when he stands directly behind me. I don't want to turn around. I don't want to see him holding the whip aloft, hungry to find the comfort of flesh.

'Now, Graecis, are you going to tell us what we want to know?' He speaks softly, gently, but the roar of the blood in my ears seems to only magnify the sound. I take a deep breath, gathering my strength, and close my eyes.

'Never.' There is a slight pause, as my answer registers throughout my silent audience. When at last Octavian speaks, I can practically hear the smile in his voice.

'Good.' And that is the moment I feel the first crack of the whip on my shoulder.

Thank you so much for reading! Again, I am so sorry for the delay, but I do hope it was worth it! I love you guys so much, and you don't know how much I appreciate you taking the time to read my story. It really means a lot to me. So thank you all!

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