As soon as the first shrill beep of the alarm rang out, Annabeth's hand went down to mute it. She hadn't needed the alarm, she knew that, not with the overwhelming fact that she didn't even sleep at night, due to the nightmares, but there had been a certain feeling of completion upon setting it. It made her feel organised and responsible, so that she could lift herself from her bed after a fitful slumber of terrifying dreams, with a rejuvenating sensation of maturity. So, before it woke her entire family, Annabeth's fingers went down on the phone and slid. The alarm turned off with a resigned, halfhearted, breath of a 'beep.' Annabeth turned her head to her phone, and sighed deeply at seeing the numbers blinking up at her. Eight in the morning. Couldn't she just stay in bed a little while longer? Just another minute... sink into the covers... close her eyes... Maybe, mayb-

"Annabeth?" A husky, sleep-riddled voice called from Helen and Frederick's room, "Get up. You need eat breakfast."

"What? Oh, right. I'm coming."

"Sh. Keep your voice down, your brothers are asleep." Her father replied stilly.

"Go back to sleep. I'll get up fine."

"Mm, okay."

Bracing herself, as one might for a deadly blow, Annabeth shut her eyes, and ripped off the quilts. The cold was instantaneous. It rippled like water over her body; the silken breath of Bóreas. A shiver accompanied it, coursing it's way up Annabeth's skin, and penetrating through, into the marrow of her bones.

The bed groaned as she heaved herself off it. Almost in protest, really, calling her back to its tantalising warmth. But yet, Annabeth resisted, not succumbing to its beguiling ways - beguiling, because she knew as soon as she laid herself bare before the deceitful prowess of her berth, she would fall back into ravenous, fearful nightmares.

"Annabeth," called that muffled voice again, "are you up?"

Annabeth reached for the shirt she had left out last night, her movements bordering on trepidation, so quiet they were. Percy's gift too, she had left till last to pack. And Paul's, and Sally's.

"Yeah," she whispered tartly back in the general direction of her father's voice, careful to ensure the presents did not fall the floor, as she slid her shirt out from beneath the pile. The answering snore was all Annabeth needed to know Frederick had heard, and she smiled to herself in amusement.

The orange Camp top she wriggled into was comfortable, if a little tight. Or perhaps it wasn't comfort she felt, but that Annabeth felt satisfaction at the familiar feel of it on her skin, as though she were greeting an old friend after years apart. Then her jeans, which were faded from the years, stretchy and torn; those little owls she pinned into her ears gleaming in the early morning light, filtering in from the window. Once she was dressed, Annabeth stared at her reflection and frowned slightly. She wore long trousers and a jacket, so there wasn't really any need to cover up the scars. Perhaps those ones on her face only? But still, she would be with no one but Percy, Sally and Paul. So there wasn't really much need to conceal even those. Maybe Annabeth was just making excuses, or maybe she did truly agree that she didn't need it, but somehow, she found herself reaching into her toiletries bag. She found herself digging around through toothpaste and toothbrushes and hairbrushes, and felt her fingers curl around a familiar tub. She saw herself withdraw it, and then, with practised ease, place the bottle on her desk, discarded, not needed. Then, with a small smile, Annabeth grabbed her bag and exited her room, the door and doorframe kissing with barely a sound. And as she made her way down the stairs, to the kitchen and a plate of scrambled eggs, the bottle of concealer lay on her desk in her room, hemmed in by stacks of paper, stationary, and a laptop.

At precisely eight hours, fifty seven minutes, and thirty two seconds, before noon, a blue Prius drew up outside Annabeth's house. Annabeth tore her gaze from the clock, and hastened to her feet, her plate of scrambled eggs pushed aside. She had told Percy not to buzz, lest it wake her entire family, and so that meant for the past half hour, she'd had to be on constant vigilance by the window. Not that she wouldn't have been anyway. Not bothering to conceal the smile growing on her face, Annabeth moved the note wishing her family a happy new year to the centre of the table, and gripped her suitcase. Yawning, she slipped out of the dining room and into the barren hallway. The walls seemed to lean in over her, peering curiously, wondering as to where their young tenant was headed. Almost before Annabeth realised she was at it; her hand on the knob; her body pushing against it, the door opened, that familiar creak sounding out like music through the walls. Then Annabeth stepped out into the thick Manhattan air, and hurried down the path.

There was a split-second, where Annabeth was unsure on how to greet the Jacksons. A nanosecond where her thoughts raced: Hug them? Thank them? Shake their hands? She was spared by Paul's chirpy voice. "Annabeth! Good morning!"

Annabeth grinned, partly contemplating how anybody could sound so cheery in the morning, partly laughing at herself for her risible thoughts.

"Good morning," she replied happily, "shall I put my case in the boot?"

"Yeah, um, hold on," Annabeth watched as Paul fumbled in his pocket and took out a set of car keys. He passed it to her.

"You need help?"

"Don't worry, I'm okay," Annabeth heaved the lid of the boot up, and with one strong arm, placed her suitcase atop Percy's familiar one. The sight of such blue bag sent a rush of memories coursing through her veins. She tamped down on them - both the good and the bad - as she clambered into the back seat of the vast besides a grinning Percy.

"Hey Wise Girl," he said, "Alright?"

"Never better."

Percy laughed softly, and smiled. In that instance, it was so that his smile seemed to shake the world right off its feet. It was a smile painted in the most beautiful of colours, and a smile that glistened and danced in the early morning light.

"Have you had breakfast yet?" Sally asked, "we have some fruit if you'd like. And chocolate, but that's for later."

Annabeth leaned forward slightly in her seat, touched at the maternal fussing.

"I've eaten, don't worry."

"Okay, that's alright then. Tell me if you're hungry."

"So how was this vacation with your long lost family?" Percy said, "Mom said she found you at the Olive Garden." Annabeth found herself chuckling .

"It was strange," she replied, then wrinkled her nose a little, "Magnus was a bit annoying though."

"How so?" Sally asked, laughing from shotgun.

"He assisted my brothers in taking my phone, made jokes at my expense, teased me, then thought it a good idea to teach me about a 'Happy Place.'"

At her side, Percy chortled, and his fingers idly hooked around hers.

"I'm glad you survived."

"So am I." Annabeth decided, at that moment, not to tell them about Echidna.

"Buckle up," Paul said. He slotted the key in, turned it, and with a cough, the engine started up, roaring to life like a lion. Without a sliver of sadness, Annabeth watched as the car inched forwards, and that familiar house she lived in shrank, until it became a meaningless dot in the jungle of a meaningless neighbourhood, in a perhaps not so meaningless city.

Halfway through the car ride, the Prius pulled up into a BP service station.

"Toilet break," Sally said simply. It struck Annabeth, by the mundane simplicity, in which the family went about this inconsequential task - that this was routine. A routine stop in a routine vacation. Except, she was coming here too, this time, and that alone was an exception in this routine. And Annabeth revelled in the way that the Jacksons, even so little into the trip, already made her feel like one of their own.

"Right, ladies - or you know, just me and Annabeth," Sally turned to face the younger woman, "Let's go freshen up."

"Alright." Annabeth shifted her cramped legs, and let the door swing open. A pleasing blast of cold air kissed her cheeks, complementing the stuffy one of the car. Bracing a hand on the frame of the car, Annabeth stumbled to her feet. On the other side of the vehicle, Percy appeared, smiling as the gale, the one coming in from the Atlantic, swept his beautiful black hair to the side.

"Are we filling up the petrol tank?" He asked Paul. Paul ducked out of the car, and ruffled his stepson's hair.

"Would you be willing to pay?"

"I- I haven't- I don't-"

"I'm joking, Perce," Paul pressed a few dollars into Percy's hand, "Go and get us something to eat though, your mother and I barely ate."

"Okay. But I need to use the restroom first."

Annabeth and Sally stood before the mirror, trying in vain to rub the sleep from their eyes. The looking glass was cracked and stained, so made it hard to see one's reflection with clarity. In all honesty, Annabeth was glad. She was thankful for an excuse not to have to look at her wan, haggard face of the early morning.

"Percy came over to your's yesterday?" Sally asked suddenly, a smile dancing on her countenance. Annabeth looked up from splashing water onto her face, and grinned back.

"Yep. Which was good because he came just in time to save me from dying of boredom. My dad found yesterday evening a fitting time to host a dull dinner party for his boss and some colleagues."

"He was adamant about coming to see you. I tried to tell him to wait until tomorrow - today - but he didn't listen. He missed you too much."

Annabeth smiled a small smile full of fondness and love for her boyfriend, trying to ignore the rising feeling of endearment and passion. "I missed him so much, to be honest. All the gods-damned time." She said, "it's just that, after all we've been through..." It suddenly struck her, that only with Sally, she would say this so naturally, without the fear of being judged. Only with Sally, Annabeth could so openly talk about this relationship with Percy. It made sense, she supposed. In those long eight months of Percy's disappearance, Annabeth had found herself at Sally's countless times a week, and over the months, she had grown to confide in Sally in the most personal matters. Together, the two woman had shed tears and consoled each other and held each other in a way no other would ever see. Not on Annabeth's part, anyway. Only Sally had seen her cry so freely; seen her shake and crack apart without the shame Annabeth bore at such times before her parents. And it too, had been Annabeth of whom Sally had first told of being pregnant. Before Paul. Before any of her friends. And that privilege would be one Annabeth would forever wear with pride. And so, unlike certain little brothers would have done, or a father and stepmother who would just laugh teasingly, Sally offered a sympathetic smile, and gave Annabeth a quick, one-armed hug.

Percy was waiting outside the restrooms. He leant lazily against the harsh metal railings, his eyes glimmering, his hair tousled almost elegantly in the breeze.

"There you are!" He exclaimed as Annabeth and Sally came out of the door, and onto the hard cement ground, "I thought you'd drowned in the toilet basin or something!"

Annabeth laughed, her voice carrying in the wind. All she really wanted to do was to wrap her arms round him and kiss the blithering idiot, but she couldn't. Not with his mother there.

"And how long where you waiting here, Seaweed Brain?"

"About thirty seconds."

Sally rolled her eyes. "That's typical you," she said to her son.

"I know," Percy replied, "Paul asked me to get you guys something to eat, but I didn't know what you wanted."

"I'm going to go and help Paul," Sally said, "Just buy some chocolate."

"That's a healthy breakfast," Percy countered. Sally smiled fondly at her son.

"Annabeth do you want to go with him?" She inquired.

Annabeth tried not to blush at what Sally's question may have entailed, and nodded. More than anything, she wanted that; just a few minutes with her boyfriend alone.

The service station shop smelled of kerosene, paint, and a suspicious odour, bearing a light resemblance to urine. Percy wrinkled his nose.

"Ew," he said. Annabeth too, shuddered, but took another step, further in, trying not to breathe in the hazardous stench too much. They really needed better ventilation in here.

"Hello, kids," exclaimed a booming voice, "What can I get ya?"

Annabeth looked up suddenly to see a large man, with round glasses and a fluorescent pink hat atop mousy brown hair, sitting at the counter. A large, friendly grin was plastered on his ruddy red face.

"Er," she said, biting her lip, "We're just browsing for now."

The man raised a hairy eyebrow. "Ya sure you ain't payin' for petrol?"

"No. My dad just paid," Percy said. 'Stepfather' was just too much of a mouthful. The man licked his dry lips, and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"That bloke what just came in?" As he talked, a spray of spit came from his mouth and pattered onto the floor. Percy gulped. He shrugged, and grabbed Annabeth's hand and towed her into the next aisle, clearly anxious to get away from the man at the counter.

"Where ya goin'?" The man called behind them.

"Browsing!"

It took all of five minutes to finally locate the chocolate bars. Annabeth's fingers were still wound around Percy's, and she was glad for their comforting warmth. Every now and then, he would squeeze her hand gently, and Annabeth's heart would go into a crazy bout of palpitations.

"Well," she asked, "What chocolate do Sally and Paul like?"

"Beats me," Percy said, and Annabeth couldn't help but notice that he shifted his weight slightly closer towards her. His shoulder, a few inches taller than her's, brushed against her body, setting Annabeth's nerves alight.

"What about Toblerone? Who doesn't like Toblerone?" Annabeth asked.

"Okay. Good choice."

"Do you not want anything?"

Percy grinned a conspirators smile. "Well now you mention it... would a kiss be too expensive?"

"Not if you rob it. Then it comes free," Annabeth tried to deadpan, but the powerful force that was love stole that mask. She eyed him in the corner of her vision, and grinned mischievously.

"And if I paid?" Percy pressed.

"Oh, I wouldn't charge you, don't worry."

"Well, that's a relief."

"Gods, Seaweed Brain. You're so soppy!" Annabeth rolled her eyes, and pressed a kiss against his lips. He returned it, laughing as his arms held her close to his chest. Annabeth wanted to laugh as well. Giddy; drunk on love. And if it weren't for the fact that they were in the middle of a shop, and parents waited outside, and a shopkeeper was staring-but-pretending-not-to, Annabeth knew they would have stayed like that much, much longer.

No one said anything as Percy and Annabeth returned to the Prius, hands clasped, bag of chocolate and drinks in Percy's free hand, rather a while later.

"Smelt terrible in there," Percy said as a manner of greeting.

"Tell me about it," Paul agreed. Percy yawned then, a yawn so wide he could probably have fitted the entire world in his mouth.

"How long's left till we get there?"

"About two hours,"

"Good because I'm-' yawn '-I'm going to-' Yawn again'-sleep."

That yawn was contagious like a deadly illness, and Annabeth was suddenly avidly aware of the heaviness of her head and the bleariness her eyes. She nodded, a nod perhaps in agreement with her boyfriend, or perhaps simply that head now felt like a ton of bricks.

"Me too," she said, her voice slightly slurred with a ravenous need for sleep.

In the car, Annabeth slumped against Percy, without even meaning to. Her head just lolled back against his shoulder, her hair cascading down his front. Dimly, she was aware of Percy too, sinking back against her, and as the car crawled out of the service station, its gentle rocking forced Annabeth's eyelids shut. A hand snaked its way protectively around her back, and a small smile that cared nothing of what what those in vicinity thought, blossomed on Annabeth's lips. And as Annabeth slipped into the enticing realms of her first untroubled sleep in a very long time, that smile stayed, as bright as a flower in a garden of weeds.

The slamming of a car door shook Annabeth from her slumber. She opened her eyes uncertainly, squinting against the noon light, slanting into the car. At her side, somebody stirred.

"Are we here?" Annabeth asked, her voice slurred from sleep. She shifted in her seat, and was met with the face of Percy. He too, was awake, though smiling sluggishly, as though he had not yet fully returned from the world of sleep. The glare of the sun made bars across his face, and his eyes - those beautiful, beautiful two oceans - glimmered.

"Morning?" He said.

"Afternoon, you mean. It's one." Paul said, "We're nearly there, Sally just wanted to take a photo."

"Oh, cool," Annabeth peered out of the window and what she saw resonated. somewhere within her. The calm, effulgent sea danced with light, resting somewhere below the precipice the car stood on. A building perched proud, too, on a headland some way off, bands of red and white adorning it's torso; a lighthouse. At its foot lay a scattering of rocks, their shadows playing in the sandy banks. Annabeth sucked in air.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Somebody said. Annabeth jumped, and found Percy grinning, in the seat her side. She smiled, and nodded, not wanting to speak, move, tear her eyes away from this spell-binding view. A little way ahead, Sally stood, with a camera angled. The sun made patterns on her chestnut hair; patterns that chased each other up and down like a cat and mouse. Here, with the glorious sun and the breathtaking landscape and waves far below, licking the shore and sliding away, one could pretend - Annabeth could pretend - that every nightmare and trek through hell and harrowing quest, had never happened. Here, with the window open, and the wind whispering serenades in one's ear, and the briny air gently rubbing at one's skin, one could imagine all their terror-inducing, perilous, horrifying experiences could fade away into the tranquil shroud of white mist.

A quarter of an hour later, the Prius drew up outside a cabin. Its façade was beautiful: rustic, dark wood walls, leaded windows, rust coloured door, a tiled pyramid of a roof, adorned with a red-brick chimney. The house looked right out onto a porcelain beach and the blanket of pristine blue sea that kissed it, so that the only sound was the occasional, excited cry of a gull. Smiling, Paul, led the way up to the veranda, and fumbled in his pockets for something. His hand came free, a set of old keys dangling from his pale fingers. Behind him, Sally bustled up the steps, one hand protectively over her swollen belly. Watching the mundane scene unfold, Annabeth and Percy waited in the vehicle few moments before moving, as though they could sit there forever, sharing with each other this sacred piece of time.

"Nice cabin," Annabeth said, though her voice came out as barely more than a whisper. A hint of a smirk - an endearing one, though - showed sudden colours on Percy's lips. His warm fingers curled their way around her's.

"I know," he breathed, "It always has been. Mom's in love with this place. This is where she met my father, in Montauk. And with Gabe, the weekends we spent here were the moments we looked forwards to the most."

Annabeth gave Percy's hand a tight squeeze. The touch of his calloused palm against hers sent shivers through her body.

"It's so beautiful," Annabeth murmured. Already, a ludicrous flight of fancy was working its way into her head. A daydream both of past and future: childhood summers spent licking ice cream and splashing in the sea, then perhaps, in the years to come, staying here during vacation, with an ever-burning sun in the hot summers, and a log fire during the chilly winters. And of course, a laughing boy - man - with a mop of black hair and a pair of the deepest green eyes.

"Are you going to stay there all day!?" Sally called, from where the pine wood door was slowly swinging open. Peeling pastel blue paint came off on her hand as she withdrew her fingers. Percy laughed softly.

"Admiring the view," he told his mother, "coming now."

"Quick, or I'll lock you in the car."

"Alright, alright!" With a fiendish grin, that in no way suited the alarmed expression on his face, Percy flung the door open and scampered out of the car, dragging Annabeth behind him. Fifteen away, Sally grinned. As Percy struggled with the boot, and pulling out cases, Annabeth scanned the horizon. Her gaze wandered over to a boardwalk a couple of miles away in the distance. It was ensconced by nothing but sand dunes and a quiescent sea, and even at this far off vantage point, Annabeth could make out the shadows of people. A couple stood by the railings, kissing, and at a small stall, a family of five was engaged in a rapturous conversation. A sort of pang seared through Annabeth's body. It ached with longing: for that safety, for that comfort and for that quiet peaceful life she would never have.

"Wise Girl," Percy complained suddenly, juggling three suitcases in his hands, "A little help?" Annabeth turned towards that beautiful face, and that pain dulled suddenly. Then deserted her completely. A small smile gave fruit on Annabeth's lips. Because whilst she may not have such a life, in a tranquil little town by the sea; that life of bland mortal obliviousness she yearned for, she did have a million stars to live for. And the brightest star of all - Percy - she knew she would never exchange. Not for any shard of that basic mortal life she had always coveted so.

Annabeth gently took her suitcase from her boyfriend's hand, and thanked him as she meandered up to the path, to the house. Sally and Paul had already disappeared through the open door, and the sounds of movement inside was faintly audible. Tentatively, feeling almost unwelcome, Annabeth pushed the door open a little wider, and stepped over the threshold into the foyer. Her suitcase trailed behind her, clacking up the doorsteps. Annabeth halted, and stared about herself. Inside, she found a beam spreading across her face. The house was more of a bungalow, really. It was tastefully designed, with a low ceiling that overshadowed a small lounge, with two black leather sofas, and a low coffee table. At the end of the room was a wide doorway, so that Annabeth could see a kitchen inside, and on her right, two doors led presumably to bedrooms or a bathroom.

"Is everything out of the car?" Sally called from the depths of the house. Glancing back behind her, Annabeth saw Percy heading up the path.

"Yeah!" He answered.

"And is it locked?"

"I just checked- yes."

"Okay. That's good."

Percy mounted the steps elegantly, and strode into the house besides Annabeth. He paused, one hand braced on a sofa, the other grasping the handle of his suitcase.

"Mom," he called, "can we go swimming?"

Sally bustled into the light, from one of the doors on the right-hand side. The contours of her face creased into a slight frown.

"Already?" She chastised her son, "you haven't even been in the house thirty seconds. At least unpack first," Sally inclined her head slightly, and added, "Annabeth, do you want to sleep on the couch, or on a mattress on the floor in Percy's room?" In that sole breath of an instant, Annabeth felt as if she were being thrust headlong into the spotlight.

"Uh..." she began uncertainly. Sure, more than anything she wanted to sleep in Percy's bedroom, the beckon of a peaceful, undisturbed sleep was so close, so tantalising. Yet Annabeth didn't feel entirely comfortable telling Sally she wanted to sleep in her lover's room with him. She didn't want to sound desperate, or perhaps even eager. It was rather hard to put these feelings into words; rather awkward, as if one were going: 'Right, sure I'll sleep in my boyfriend's bedroom, yes. No problem on behalf of my trusting parents, none at all. Of course not.' With a somewhat sarcastic tone. Sally, however, seemed to sense her unease, and laughed quietly.

"It's fine. Go ahead and sleep in Percy's room," she smiled, the light caressing her kindly features, "But I can't help make the bed," she put a protective hand on her swollen belly. Percy rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"I can make it," he said, "Then I think going to nap some more." He yawned once more, wound his fingers through Annabeth's, then gently tugged her towards the kitchen. "But of course," he said, "food first."