Disclaimer: I do not Percy Jackson and the Olympians or any of Carrie Underwood's music.

P.S.- I am sooooo sorry for the lateness of this chapter. The website was being difficult the past couple of days, and wouldn't let me upload any chapters. But it's here now, and, as always, I hope you enjoy!

Song: So Small

Artist: Carrie Underwood

(Annabeth POV)

What have you got if you don't have love? If you don't have happiness? Don't have joy?

Nothing.

You have nothing, except maybe anguish and sorrow and excruciating pain. Pain. Pain that's so deep, it's irreversible. Completely unrepairable. And there isn't a thing you can do about it.

That's the twisted, dark humor of the heart. It makes you fall too deep too fast, then makes you pay for it by suffering through the fallout. It twists your brain and your nerves until you're not functioning correctly. Everything I see, hear, taste, touch... I think of him. In the sunlight shining down upon the grass; in the friendly howl of the wind carving through the trees; in the festive peppermints that roll around during December; in the velvety smooth bark of the Aspen trees. I recoil whenever I come in contact with the painful memories, flinching and wincing and suffering in silence. Insufferable, intolerable silence.

Today, I don't want to do anything, or talk to anybody. I don't even want to see anybody, in fear that I might be reminded of him.

I curl up in my bed, using the soft covers as a type of shield from the pains and burdens of the world. And for a second, it works. My mind is clear. My breathing is even. My eyes are dry. But then the minuscule cross-hatching of threads I see embedded in the covers remind me of his favorite, non-Camp-shirt: a casual navy blue tee that smelled of pine trees and grass. With the picture in my mind, I involuntarily sniff the covers, but only come up with the pathetic scent of cotton and detergent. I burst into tears at the absence of his smell, just another painful reminder that he's isn't coming back.

I can't stand it anymore. I throw off the blanket and find my half-sister, Hannah, standing over me. Her gray eyes are full with worry, her mouth set in a concerned line. I think about how I must look to her, what with my rat's nest of hair and bloodshot eyes, red from crying.

"Annabeth, is—" She starts, but I'm off my bed and rocketing out the door before any more of her unwanted sympathy spills from her mouth. I slam the door hard behind me, but the effort it takes to be mad is too much. I'm weak by the time I'm off the stairs, but I keep going, because I surely can't go back to my cabin. I just want to be alone, to be able to wallow in my sorrow in peace.

Just then, the sky opens up. Rain pelts Camp Half-Blood fiercely, sending campers and satyrs alike shrieking and running for cover. Instead of turning around and going back to a cabin-full of sympathetic siblings, I start to run farther and farther away. I don't even stop to question how the forbidden weather has entered Camp's anti-weather boundaries. I just thank the gods above for the blinding rain. It's coming down so hard and thick, it's like a gray curtain isolating me in a protection of water and making me invisible to everyone else.

I keep running, where-to I'm not sure of. I need desperately to be left alone, to sort out the problems plaguing me. The only places I can think of that are guaranteed to be empty are Zeus and Hera's cabins. So I make a beeline to the extravagant marble structures, all but breaking down the door to the first cabin I see, which happens to belong to Hera.

Water drips mercilessly off my clothes, making an endless puddle on the floor. My sneakers can't grip the slick marble floors, and, already incredibly weak and strung out from my emotions, I slip. Through my tears, I can't see what's happening as I fall towards the ground. My fried brain can't make sense of the creamy stone floor that is becoming peculiarly close to my face. I don't even have to time to breathe as my skull crashes against floor with a sickening crack. I let out a moan of pain, and close my eyes tightly as stars begin to dance in my vision. I don't want to know what's happening. Perhaps I'm dying. I wouldn't mind it if I was. Dying brings with it a sense of calm and tranquility. No more crying. No more running from my emotions. It could all end with a wet floor and a simple slip. It almost seems too good to be true. Could it be? Surely not. But I peek open my eyes to see the walls closing in on top of me.

Death. Why not? My life is terrible as it is. I wonder if this is how all people die. Are they happy that they can finally be free of this cruel world and all of it's burdens? That there is no more pain, no more waiting, no more hurtfulness?

My blood is raging in my ears, my head pounding ferociously. I think death is long overdue for me. I roll on my back, ignoring my body's cry of protest, and smile as I look upwards and watch the ceiling fall.

I open my eyes to a pristine, earthly scene. The walls of this room I'm in are wooden, and trees reach in through the windows. Birds are chirping in the distance. I look around and see I am alone, though cots are pushed up against the wall in an orderly fashion. I look down at my body and see I am covered in a thread-bare blanket. It's thick and comfy and reassuring.

Is this death? Is this the Underworld? Surely not, as I've visited the Land of the Dead one too many times. This wasn't how it looked, was it? Where is the gray atmosphere, the sulking souls? Maybe I'm in a sort of waiting room, awaiting judgement. That's probably it.

I lean my head back against the pillow and give a contented sigh. I decide to rest my eyes, because who knows if I'll be able to rest again in death? My eyelids retreat and my vision is black once again. It's very calming.

I hear a door open and footsteps approaching me. I tense as the footsteps grow closer and then stop entirely. I hear a slight scrape as a chair is being dragged, and a squeak as someone sits down in it. I hear a rhythmic breathing, a steady in and out of breath. That strikes me as odd—I thought breathing was unnecessary if you were dead.

Curious, I open my eyes.

The first thing I notice is the jet-black hair that falls messily into his face. It's in disarray and slightly damp, like he ran through sprinklers. His eyes are a shocking sea-green, filled to the rim with worry. His lips are set in a tight line.

Percy.

What was he doing here? Was he dead also? If he was, how? Why? These questions bounced around in my head like wasps, refusing to go away. But in my confusion, the only question that reached my lips was, "Where am I?"

His eyes snapped to my face, the worry instantly dissolving and relief taking its place. The tight line that was his mouth transformed into a smile. "The Infirmary. How are you feeling?"

I ignored his question and asked the most pressing one in my mind. "I'm not dead?"

He gave a nervous laugh. "No. Why would you be?"

"I—I fell..."

"Yeah," He said. "You banged your head pretty badly. I found you passed out in a pool of blood."

I downcast my eyes as disappointment settled in. I hardened my face, though, so Percy wouldn't be able to tell that I wanted to die.

"Annabeth, why you were in Hera's cabin in the first place?" He asked after a few moments of silence.

I gave him the most truthful answer I could think of. "I needed to be alone."

"So you ran through camp in the middle of a freak storm to an abandoned cabin belonging to the single goddess that hates you?" He said, getting slightly worked up. "You know, you could've come to me. I wouldn't have let you fall and—"

"And what?" I said back, slightly angry with him. "And I could've talked to you and then we'd all be fine and happy? Well, here's a news flash, Seaweed Brain. Maybe if you would've just let me die on the floor of Hera's cabin like I wanted to, we wouldn't be—"

"What?" He said quietly, the color drained from his face. "What did you say?"

I stared pointedly at the wall.

"Did... did you say you wanted to die?"

"I'm not sure why you would care."

"Annabeth," He said softly, so softly I turned to see what had triggered this change of tone. I stared into his green eyes as they burned straight to my soul. He gingerly took my hand, and his warmth spread throughout my body. "Why did you want to die?"

I didn't answer. It didn't feel right, confessing to Percy how he broke my heart. It turns out, I didn't have to.

"Is it about Luke?"

I only nodded slightly, pain pricking my chest at the mention of the boy who broke my heart.

"You know, you don't have to hide this from me."

"Who said I was hiding it?"

He smirked, but the smile vanished quickly. "I guess it doesn't really matter. You sucked at hiding it, anyway."

Before I could stop it, a smile made its way to my lips. "You're not the best at hiding your secrets, either, Seaweed Brain."

He feigned shock, but couldn't help smiling. "Oh? Like what?"

"Like... like how..." As hard as I tried, I really couldn't think of an embarrassing secret he'd let slip.

"Ah! See? I'm not such an open book, Wise Girl."

"Shut up."

He laughed. "How about some rest? You could use it."

I looked at Percy's face, and something took hold of me. A new feeling I didn't want to let go. "Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

He stared at me, and then tightened his grip on my hand. A new kind of warmth shot throughout my body. "Of course."

I smiled at him, and leaned back against the pillow. I took one last look into his green eyes and closed mine.

As I slowly drifted off, I could feel my strong ties to Luke gradually, one by one, snipping off and floating away.

As each feeling I felt for Luke disappeared, my chest lightened up, and the gates that had been locking up my happiness behind bars of titanium steel gave away their reign into my own hands. Of course, I wasn't completely healed, for Luke had hurt me deeply, but for the first time in months, I felt free and alive. I could decide my own happiness, and not be stuck in a never-ending circle of misery. Nothing could come in between this feeling and me.

I gave Percy's warm hand a slight squeeze. Maybe, just maybe, I could move on from Luke and begin something else with someone new. After all, life is too short to be forever drowning in sorrow. Time is moving steadily, waiting for you to make the most of it because you can't ever get it back. And I intended to make the most of it from now on.

Because sometimes, what you've spent your whole life searching for might just be in your very hands.