A/N: About time I updated. It's been about a month and I really don't have the time to reply to your reviews. I'll surely reply sooner or later of course, but it will take some time. Just so you'll know, I do read them and I appreciate them very much. It helped me get through a lot (more than you'll ever know, to tell the truth).

Mind you, this isn't a really awesome, stupendous story everyone would want to read if I say so myself. Just a couple of unorganized thoughts of a comatosed Annabeth Chase, inspired by depressing notion I got from staring at nothingness in front of me. But I'm sure that at least, it'll be good and maybe I should really put a stop to my below-than-normal pride as an author and try creating magnificent stories I'd be proud to call as my own.

Special thanks to:

storyteller145 – for the always wonderful beta. I'm sorry if I haven't been keeping touch with you because I'm really in a tight notch right now, and it wouldn't be wise if I devoted even more time to fanfiction than I already have been. Thank you for being the best beta in the west!

Enjoy!

~0~

Stuck In Between

Part 1 – The Beginning Of A New End

Chapter 4: Children At Play

Today is March 6.

Right now, my dad is flipping through the photo albums. Our photo albums. It's kind of a disappointment that I won't be able to see them but dad offered the next best thing: he described them to me. Like a parent does to his children whenever he reads a storybook to them. It's nice just to hear Dad's voice. Usually, it was my mom who read to me all those stories about Cinderella, Snow White, and Little Red Riding Hood. But since she's currently unavailable, my dad is more than willing to fill in the spot.

He tells me I look cute with the purple dress I wore when I was seven.

My seventh birthday was the most memorable out of all my past birthday parties. I even thought God made time stop just for me – I felt that every single person in the world attended. Everyone I wanted most to see was there– Mom, Dad, my classmates, Luke and the rest of my neighbors. It was bliss. My birthday cake was enormous. Luke kept on smothering me with the vanilla icing. I had trouble trying to blow all of the five candles for I was out of wind. I couldn't stop laughing that day.

I received my first Bible book as a gift from my widowed aunt. Her name's Janine, one of the nicest relatives on my father's side of the family. I'm sure she used to be pretty back when she was my age, but I guess she wasn't made for adulthood. Now she's all fat and blubbery. My neighborhood friends once joked about her, saying that her husband jumped off a building because she got ugly. But Aunt Janine just laughed it off. That's how nice she was. I also got a spyglass from the astronomy club. I was crazy about stars and planets back then. I had a lot of presents but two of them were the most notable:

Mom and Dad gave me a life-size stuffed toy rabbit. It looked a lot like my dead rabbit Peter – I named him after Peter Rabbit – and I couldn't stop crying when he died a few weeks before my birthday. And I seldom cried. So my parents got me a replacement for Peter, though nothing can replace that furry, little lagomorph. It was a small compensation, but it got me to let go of Peter. And it was my favorite. The rabbit was the last gift the two of them together gave to me. It's still back at my apartment, nestling on the topmost shelf in my room. It's missing a huge chunk of his left ear. Roosevelt, my dog, bit that part out when I was doing grocery shopping for Christmas Eve.

And Luke, my best-friend-who's-a-boy, gave me a silver chain necklace with red jasper as a pendant. He told me he found it at a thrift store while he and his mom were out shopping. He knew jaspers where my favorite stone but I still haven't figured out how he'd known. It was really sweet of him; he hardly gives anyone presents. It's not that he's selfish or greedy or he doesn't really care. He's just doesn't like giving anyone anything. Being worldly and materialistic is something he really isn't hot about. So it was a marvel in itself. I wore it ever since. Once, the silver chain broke and it almost got me to tears. I had a Canadian replace it. He even offered to buy the stone from me, saying it was an antique and costed a lot. I refused. Luke's gift really mattered to me. It was an emblem of our friendship that lasted all of these years. And he, most of all, mattered to me. I never told him of my lingering feelings – it was more of an infatuation that grew more intense every time I thought about how perfect he was. And now, I fear that I might never have a chance to tell him.

I don't know where he is now. All I know is that he's somewhere in Switzerland, studying metallurgy, majoring in Mechanical Engineering. I wonder if he knows what happened to me, if he knows my days are limited. I wonder if he knows that I wouldn't be able to walk or talk anymore, that we could never hang out and goof around at Central Park like we used to. That we could never hunt down and steal back his bike from those black guys at Harlem. That everything between us would never be the same again.

Percy Jackson still hasn't visited me for over a week.

He usually dropped by day after day, keeping me posted of all the things going around, complain that the hospital food here stinks and that they should fire the cook, etcetera etcetera. I thought he wouldn't visit after our second encounter, but he did. Weird fellow, but he's a really nice guy if you think about it. He doesn't have that haughty air I usually sense in guys.

I have a feeling that he's quite awkward around girls. Often he would say he's afraid that he's boring me with his rambling, which is ridiculous. My life story next to his is like a trout swimming next to a shark.

I want to laugh when he says something utterly stupid, though of course, I can't. I am not claiming my intellectual superiority over him. I am not that smart. And he's not that dense. Sort of.

He likes to crack jokes. He likes to play music for me. He even reads the newspaper headlines out loud, just so I'm 'updated'. No word about my health status passes through his lips, and I'm cool with that. What I really need right now is sensitivity; it was nice enough for people not to drop news about how close I am to dying once in a while.

And most of all, I find his company rather… comforting.

Dr. Jackson – I should probably call her Sally. It makes life so much easier – tells me that Percy would visit tomorrow. He's busy with school right now so he can't come.

Not that I care.

"Who's Percy?" Dad asks Sally after closing the photo album.

Shit.

"He's my son," Sally answers. "He comes to the hospital to visit me a few times a week. You talked to him a few weeks ago, don't you remember? Sometimes, he would come and see Annabeth."

"Oh."

My mind's reeling. That 'oh' can mean a lot of things. My dad can be touchy and irrational sometimes.

"Why does he come and check on my Annabeth?"

I (mentally) slap my forehead. The 'my' was stressed as possessive. Jeez, Dad. It's not like Percy's doing anything horrible. No need for him to issue a restraining order.

Good thing good ol' Sally's taking it all smoothly. "Percy likes talking to her a lot. He's quite insightful, and I'm not just saying that because he's my son. He knows that Annabeth's listening to him," I can sense her hands attaching a new water pack on the tubes.

"I think Percy admires your daughter. She is a hero and a survivor, after all. She's going to be alright."

My dad holds my hand. "I know she will."

~0~

March 22.

I try to gnash my resolve to remember every single sound I hear, every single thought that crosses my mind, every single memory that suddenly got blurry whenever I pictured them.

I forget my birthday.

I'm starting to worry. Distant memories I have kept locked up in the deepest pits of my mind start to crawl out. They suddenly start to flicker away and I constantly drive myself to grab them and put them back, afraid that they would float so far away and I'd never get them back.

I forget my favorite color.

I mentally grit my teeth, trying my hardest to hold on to the ability to think. Right now, all I can do is dwell on the miniscule things in my life, even those memories I once gladly shunned , hoping this vain hope that if I do remember, I'll be whole again.

"No! Don't come in there, Thalia!" Dad yells when I hear the door slam open.

Thalia?

"She's here!" Thalia's voice echoes in my thoughts. I want to cry. There's nothing broken in her voice. She's warm, good and healthy.

"No, Thalia. Don't– "

"Annabeth!" she jumps at my bed. "Annabeth! Are you alright? She's alright, right?"

I hear Uncle Thomas burst inside the room. "Thalia, darling. Please. Get off the bed –"

"You said she's not here!" Thalia protests, her six-year-old cries seem so familiar that I want to yelp in joy. I can remember memories of us together more clearly. The days that we would go roller-skating, the times that we would watch movies together and eat popcorn –

"Why is she asleep?" Thalia asks.

Alarms start going off in my head.

"Why is she still sleeping? Come on, Annabeth! It's already morning! I want to play hide-and-go-seek!"

"Thali-"

"Anna-beth! Wake up! Annaaaaabbbbeeeetttthh!"

"No, Thalia! Don't slap her!"

"Why isn't she waking up?" Thalia's voice turns dejected. I can tell from Uncle Thomas and Dad's anxious shouts that Thalia's slapping me again, though I can't feel any of her little fingers grazing my cheek.

I make another attempt to open my eyes.

"Auntie Annabeth's tired. You should let her rest," Dad explains.

"But she's always sleeping! Come on, Annabeth! Look at me! They took out my cast! See?"

She continues. "I want you to meet my new playmate! His name is Nico! And he wants to see you too! He wants us to play with his Mythomagic cards!"

"Thalia, please. Get off the bed."

"Why aren't you answering me?" she's starting to cry.

Oh, Thalia. I really do want to answer you.

"Don't you love me anymore?" At that, my heart breaks. I really wish I could've died instead of letting Thalia think that I've never loved her. I love her more than anything else in the world.

"Do you love me?"

I do love you, Thalia.

"Then wake up!"

I'm sorry. I can't.

Thalia weeps and sobs and cries. The sound of her tears trickling down her cheeks is even more mortifying than hearing a plane break apart in mid-air.

She shrieks and wails. Uncle Thomas pulls her away from my bed and I want to tell him to stop.

No. Please. Don't take her away from me.

Thalia kicks and yells at the top of her lungs, telling Uncle Thomas to get off of her as she is being pulled away from the room.

Dad closes the door.

~0~

The door opens.

"Oh, Percy! You're here!" Sally exclaims.

My insides jolt. Percy?

"Hey, Mom. How's she doin'?"

"She's fine, mostly. Not much difference since you last came here. Good news is that we don't have to resuscitate her anymore. And I'm great, thank you for asking."

Percy snorts and Sally laughs. To think about it, Sally's pretty cool to have as a mom. Percy's one lucky bastard.

"I want to talk to her for a while," Percy says nonchalantly.

"Sure. Go ahead."

"Mom."

"Okay, okay," she chuckles. "I'll leave. You two have a great time. Again, don't stress her out too much."

"I won't," he calls back as Sally closes the door in fits of giggles.

Oh great. Just what I needed. My own doctor playing me for matchmaker hook-ups.

"Ignore her," I hear him say as he pulls a chair to face me. "She's like that sometimes." He doesn't say anything furthermore and I decide to just listen to his breathing.

"I'm sorry if I only got to visit today. I tried to accomplish my requirements in school for a month so that I can come and visit you without those annoying deadlines hovering behind my back," he whispers.

I wait.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," he takes in deep, clammy breaths.

I prepare myself for the unexpected.

He's going to start opening to me, isn't he? Too bad I can't say or do anything at the moment. He's been nice to me so far.

"My mom's getting… remarried."

I think my eyebrows might have cocked visibly. I was expecting something more… I don't know. Something deep and really constricting. Remarriages are things that aren't complex and are easy enough to understand for me.

Three cheers for your mom, I say. It's good to know Sally's finally moving on.

"That's why she seems really cheerful most of the time. I'm guessing you've noticed."

Yeah, I did. Just before Percy came in, she was whistling Christopher Cross' love songs, which I find terribly unusual for middle-aged doctors treating patients with coma. I thought it was a normalcy for Sally Jackson. Apparently not.

So, I want to say to Percy. What's so bad that your mom's marrying someone else?

"The dude she's marrying is my English teacher."

Oh. Now I see the complication.

"I mean, Paul's a nice guy. Unlike my ex-stepdad, Gabe – he's that bastard mom married just so that we could have food in our bellies and that I could keep out of trouble for the last ten years –, Paul makes my mom happy. He's smart, he can hold a job, he's… good-looking. Goddammit, he looks like a movie star."

So what seems to be the problem?

"I don't know why I'm fretting all over this. This isn't really a nice time to be selfish. But he's my English teacher. And English is like my worst subject. Ever. It's bad enough I have dyslexia keeping me from doing anything good. And it gets especially worse when my ADHD kicks in –"

Wow. Really? ADHD and dyslexia at the same time? I'd rather slumber forever in comatose than being instituted to finish education in a coup d'état fashion.

"It's embarrassing enough that my future stepdad's my English teacher. But I'm expected to do good, maybe excellent in English. Which is a lost cause, by the way. I have to fail every single grammar test known to man and disappoint Paul and mom. And I really can't stand to hear another gloat coming from Marshall – she's that cocky brainiac in my English and Math classes. I'll be humiliating myself all over again and start from scratch.

"And I'm afraid that once mom and Paul get married, they'll be starting a new family of their own. Kids. Kids mean commitment. And the two of them would be so caught up raising their daughter perfectly that I'd be the loose end in the Jackson family. Or better yet, the Blofis family."

Now I understand if Percy's in pique. I am relieved that dad's too attached to my mom that he never thought about remarrying. If I were Percy, I would be entirely troubled if my mom will be marrying, going to the movies, being in parent-teacher's conferences, and having sex with someone other than my biological father.

He exhales heavily – not truly a sigh. "But yeah, my mom's happy."

But are you happy? I question. If there's one thing I know about relationships, especially family ones, it's that it's not a good thing that only one of you is happy. I mean, both of them should be. In this case, Paul's supposed-to-be stepson should approve of this too.

"Well, I can't really say I'm wholly ecstatic with this whole my-mother's-moving-in-with-my-English-teacher thing," he says, answering my unsaid question – which I find weird, actually.

He exhales again, "But…"

But?

"If she's happy, then I'm happy."

What?

"I mean, if Paul is who she really thinks is the best guy for her, and if he makes her happy, then I guess I don't really have a say in all this. He is who my mom wants."

This did not fit in the scenario I was imagining.

Why don't you express your uncertainty in all this? I ask, the thought ringing inside my head loud and clear.

He answers my question and again, I find this very, very creepy. "I don't think I have to confront them, though. She's the one who's going to be the bride, after all. Besides, if Paul isn't the best candidate to be my stepdad, I don't think there ever will be. I couldn't imagine two better people."

I'm not sure if I'm getting the rationality in his statement. Being in a family is diplomatic. If there are any reasons why he's sacrificing his point of interests just so his mom would be happy and why his comment shocks me, I can only think of one thing:

Percy Jackson is selfless.

I sigh. I think the universe really wants me to know that I'm a horrible person by having Percy unconsciously give me the impression that his needs are at the bottom of the list – a much better person than I ever will be.

"I guess my new stepbrother or stepsister would be so much faster and better in dealing with arithmetic and spelling words like streptococcus in school," he laughs it off, like the marriage of his mom and this Paul guy wouldn't affect much of his life in the wheel.

Seriously, there's no making sense out of this guy. But admittedly, it is comprehensible why someone can be self-effacing and self-sacrificing. Like a martyr, for instance. Martyrs are like, one of the endangered species in this generation. He totally gives way for his mother's happiness. He suffered a month of advancement programs and finishing up his requirements just so he could visit me without college bugging him, which is amazing on how he did it, especially with the dyslexia and ADHD. I find the latter really… sweet.

"I didn't know you have gray eyes," Percy's abrupt remark pulls me out from my reverie. His voice is coated with amazement.

Wait. How did he know I have gray eyes? My eyes are currently not open, in case you're wondering.

"People rarely have gray eyes," he mutters to himself. He then chuckles. "Cool. And you look pretty cute when you were a kid." He goes to a fit of sniggers.

When I was a kid? Oh my god! Is he looking at –

"You have a lot of pictures in here. In your photo album, I mean," and then he laughs out loud again. "Wow. You're very chubby when you were little. Good thing you've burned out all of your baby fat."

I'm burning like fire now. This is so embarrassing! I swear I'm going to kill my dad for leaving the photo album in the open for prying eyes.

Percy continues to laugh at my expense.

"Nice bathtub you have here."

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Oh no.

The undertone and his laugh make me flush in my head. He's looking at my baby pictures and he saw the most mortifying picture of all. I was stark naked in a bathtub back in San Francisco, and my mom decided to take a picture while Dad scrubbed me down.

He laughs again and I can only wonder what other horrendous photos he's seeing. Did he see that stupid picture of me when I tried skateboarding when I was thirteen? – and explicably failed in that attempt if I might add.

Shit. I want to die right now.

"So you got your eyes from your mom," he says. He's now looking at my family picture. "A family of blondes. Now I know where you got your looks."

I should say some people think I'm my mom's spitting image. But I think she's much prettier than I can ever get.

I can tell he's still looking at the picture. "She's gorgeous," he sounds flustered. I guess that's probably because he called someone else's mom hot. "Your dad's handsome too. You have traces of him in your face..."

I settle with brushing off his previous comment and listen to his current chatter about him never being in California before, and that it would be nice if he'd come visit there when I wake up, and blah, blah, blah, pinnacle of the topic being my pictures as a regular high school girl.

"I don't see your mother here, by the way. Where is she?"

Hot subject. Good thing I'm entitled to keep my mouth shut.

"Oh, right. You can't talk," he exhales heavily – this time a sigh. He suddenly seems sad. The wheels in my head turn and turn. I try to keep up and understand Percy's sudden change in mood and what spiked it. He's like the sea – calm and sometimes, stormy. Or maybe he's like a pubescent girl on the verge of PMS.

"I don't know why I like this – sitting on a chair and talking to you," he utters finally.

I have a strong feeling that I know why he does but I don't consider it. Intuitive as I may be, there's no real telling.

"I don't know if it's because for once, I'm talking and there's someone listening, or if it's because it's cool doing something really different for a change. I don't know if it's because you're my mom's patient," he pauses and I hear him stand up from his chair and starts pacing. He's beginning to feel restless.

"I start telling you things and you listen to them. And when I say things, I can…feel you talk to me too. I don't know if I'm imagining all this, but there are times I can feel that you're talking to me and that I'm reading your thoughts. And it's not easy. I have to work hard and completely dry out my brain just to know what you're trying to say to me but… I understand you and at the same time… I can't. Have you ever felt that way?"

To think about it, yeah. I have. It is weird how Percy can sometimes tell what I'm thinking.

"See?" he's saying these things out loud like a madman, and I'm guessing he's been taking a huge dose of caffeine. "I can even tell you do. You're just lying there. You're not saying a single word but when I look at the monitor, when I look at your face – "

He finishes mid-sentence. He paces some more, muttering how crazy he's been getting and I start to get worried.

Will he leave?

"I'm sorry," he apologizes for the umpteenth time. "I'm stressing you out. And I shouldn't be. I'd better get going."

No, don't –

The door slams shut.

~0~

I have to admit that I worried myself to death overnight when I thought I frustrated Percy too much that he might not come back.

But that oaf did.

By the next day, and for the next twelve weeks for that matter, I would hear the door swing open and imagine him smiling – because he says he's always smiling idiotically whenever he comes over. And he'll imagine me grinning back at him and then he'd talk and I'd listen senselessly until it was time for him to go.

We (he) tried to veer from any complexities of some sort, but there are times that we (he) would talk about deep, complicated, personal things. I don't see him anymore as my doctor's son. He's so much more than that.

He finds me difficult to understand, partly because I'm sprawled across the hospital's bed, constricted, therefore not being able to make any further action to help him with that. Secretly, I have this sense of gratification whenever I send him scrambling after me, whenever I just leave him my beeping heart rate monitor and my breathing patterns as the only clues to my thoughts.

I sigh. I'm being callous and a savage. Or is it because I'm a girl?

He tells me his favorite color is blue, which then makes my brain remind me of my own favorite color: green.

I'm still wondering what he looks like: does he have blond hair, black? Is he a red-head? Does he have blue eyes? Brown? Green? Hazel? Whatever he looks like, he keeps his mouth shut about it.

He tells me his birthday is on August 18th, a good two months away from now. He says the best birthday gift I could ever get him is for me to wake up from my slumber.

Like that'll happen.

He asks me to do it, makes me swear to it. And of course, my ever-so perfect silence meant yes to him.

Spending time with him made me discover something: Percy Jackson isn't perfect. He's been kicked out of school eight times in a row mostly because he has ADHD and dyslexia, and he snaps back at sarcastic teachers whenever he gets pissed off. He's afraid of riding airplanes. He's claustrophobic. He's a dunderhead. He drools when he sleeps (he drooled on my sheets when he slept over in my room once). He dated girls three times. Two of them dumped him because frequently, he wasn't punctual on dates. The other one proposed that they should get married after high school and Percy 'freaked out a little'. She dumped him because of that.

I laugh at that thought.

And I decide that I like having him as a person and as a friend. I have my own imperfections to deal with, and it's kind of nice that I have someone by me who's almost as imperfect as I am and who's willing to stand by me to work it all out.

We've developed our own means of communication. He would ask me something, like whether I'm a fan of alt rock and my subtle increase in heart rate would indicate a yes. If Percy didn't see any change, he would interpret it as a no. I have to be careful in controlling my heart rate, of course. Once, he wasn't seeing any rise in the monitor – I can be rattled by how slow he can get sometimes – that I went overboard. The spike in my heart rate was too high for the medical staff to ignore. Percy got kicked out off the room instantly and wasn't allowed to visit me anymore. He got his mother to reconsider and after his four days of suspension, he was back with a bag of Cheetos with him.

Having a doctor for a mom has its perks.

Right now, Percy is doing his math homework while Thalia and Nico are playing on the floor. Thalia's finally allowed to come in here as long as she won't try to pull the dextrose off of me again.

"Dionysius is lame!" Thalia argues with Nico. "He's only got five hundred attack points and he looks ugly on that card!"

I can tell Nico isn't happy with that statement. "Dionysius is not ugly!" he spits back. "He's just beardy."

"Well that's stupid. Why doesn't he shave, then?"

Thalia and Nico's friendship is one of the most amusing ones for children under ten years old. They fight a lot and they have a lot of different beliefs; one of the main reasons why they don't get along pretty well. They both have tempers and they're both perceptive for someone their age. After they fight, Nico would give her a cup of chocolate pudding. Knowing that the apology's been unsaid yet done, the two of them would play again and fight, the whole cycle goes on and on and repeats itself.

"This game is boring! Why don't we get married?"

"Yeah!" Nico answers brightly and I did a double-take, mentally widen my eyes, stunned.

That also got Percy's attention. I hear him stop scribbling studiously on a paper. "What did you guys say?"

"We want to get married!" Thalia exclaims. "We saw two people doing it on TV yesterday. I can be the girl and Nico can be the boy. It's perfect!"

She said it with so much conviction that I had to laugh.

Percy chuckles along with me. "Why do you two want to get married?"

"Because I'm a boy and she's a girl!" Nico answers.

"And we're best friends!" Thalia adds.

Percy laughs again at their juvenile innocence. I know what he's thinking. He's deciding to play along with the whole thing.

Thalia claps her hands. "Why are you taking Annabeth's sheets?"

"This will be your veil," he says and I imagine him putting it all around my niece like a hoodie.

Again, I want to laugh. White hospital sheets for a bridal veil. Very resourceful, Percy.

"I guess that makes me the minister in this occasion," he's fighting the urge to laugh. I hear him slap his book shut and slide it from the desk. "Okay. Now that I have my bible ready… Nico. Thalia. Stand over here, please."

Nico and Thalia sweep over to his front. I'm really, really frustrated that I won't be able to see this and miss my own niece's wedding. This is comedy gold.

Percy clears his throat, choking back a laugh and starts his speech. "We are all gathered here today… uh, sorry. I don't know the rest of my lines so I'll just jump to where you say your vows."

"Say it like the minister did on TV," Thalia orders him and Percy chuckles, obeying her.

"Do you, Nico di Angelo, take Thalia Grace to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

Silence followed.

"Uh, what do I say?" Nico asks.

"You have to say yes or no. If you'll say yes, it means you want to marry Thalia. If no, then it means you don't want her. Maybe because you love somebody else –"

"Yes! Thalia's my only best friend in the whole, wide world!" he chirps, prolonging the 'whole'.

"Alright, then," Percy chuckles. He turns to Thalia. "Do you, Thalia Grace, take Nico di Angelo to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

"Yes," Thalia answers with sureness in her tone, not knowing that this answer much later in life would change everything forever.

Ah. Ignorance is bliss.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife." Percy hesitates. "You may now er… kiss the bride?"

"Ew! I'm not kissing her!" Nico exclaims.

Thalia agrees. "He's right! I'm not kissing him, Minister Percy! His lips are disgusting!"

"Hey! You take that back!"

"Hey, hey, hey! It's okay if you guys don't kiss," Percy – Minister Percy – stops them. "You can just hug each other instead."

The couple huff in assent.

"Ow, ow, ow! She's squeezing me to death – "

"You may stop hugging him now, Mrs. Di Angelo," Minister Percy bids the two of them as one, happily, married couple.

"Yay! We're married!" Nico cheers and he and Mrs. Thalia di Angelo share high fives.

Thalia's sandals go up and down as she jumps. "Now it's your turn, Percy!"

I sense Percy's immediate confusion. "What?"

"You should play too!" Nico yelps in delight. "You should get married! Come on! I'll play the minister!"

Percy brushes the two off. "No, it's okay. I don't want to get married. I'm not ready – "

"Why not?" Nico questions. "You've got her. She'll be the bride." He points at someone and I wonder whoever she is. Is the nurse in here already? I did not hear her get inside. I almost feel sorry with this nurse who's going to be stuck in one of my hyperactive niece and her make-believe husband's schemes.

"You mean Annabeth?" Percy exclaims incredulously and my heart drops in alarm. What?

He concurs. "No, we're not getting married – "

"Don't you like Annabeth? Isn't she your girlfriend?"

Dammit.

"Er – she's not," Percy responds uneasily. "She's just my friend."

I feel sorry for Percy. I do hope Thalia doesn't scare him off. That's my job.

"But you like her," is Nico's assumption.

Thalia, once again, agrees. "Yeah. Come on, Percy. Nico would be the minister and Annabeth would be your bride."

"Hmm… Annabeth Jackson. I do like the sound of that," Percy chuckles good-naturedly and I'm flabbergasted. I can't believe he's playing along, actually considering this! Oh, and Annabeth Jackson sounds a little off.

I want to strangle Percy for this.

I can always picture my childhood friend Luke to be the guy who I'll marry in the future, but Percy? It couldn't be possible, right? I mean, not that I don't like Percy. I do, in the friend context. We've only known each other for months. Besides, I haven't even had a glimpse of his face. Not that I consider looks as an immense matter, but – argh. I'm giving myself a headache.

I sigh. I'm being unreasonable. This is all made-up, right? No need to be so groundless.

Alright. It's not like we're jinxing anything, right?

"Okay," Percy says in an amused tone as Thalia instructs him to hold my hand. "Let's get married."

~0~

A/N: Thank you very much if you've gone this far. Made it a whole lot longer for those who wanted more, but I do hope I didn't glaze your eyes that much, though. I promise I'll be replying to your reviews as soon as I can – just let me beat up my teachers first. Will be hoping for your continued support.

Also, vote for either my four nominated stories in the Verita Awards. Links are on my profile. But there are also a lot of other great authors out there nominated, so feel free to vote whichever your heart desires.

Thank you very much for everything, guys! Review, please! Flames and constructive criticisms are also accepted!