I came to in my bed at the hospital.

Afternoon light was streaming through the small window and I could see Piper's sleeping form in her cot, none the wiser. How had I gotten here? Parts of my memory seemed to be missing. I had the strange feeling that I had dreamt about Luke—Luke Castellan—a man I hadn't thought about in years, really. Last I'd heard, he'd joined the military. Chiron wasn't specific in his letter, so I doubted he knew much about it.

Sitting up in bed, I groaned at the sudden pounding in my head. I slowly got up, blinking away the stars firing at the corners of my vision. Checking my timepiece, it was earlier than I had to be up, so I let Piper sleep as I began my routine. Oddly enough, I was still in the same clothes as the day prior, so I changed into a new uniform and re-braided my hair. Stomach growling, I entered the hallway and immediately ran into Will.

"I was just coming to check on you!" He said.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Why?"

"Why?!" He seemed startled. "You tell me! Two German soldiers showed up at the hospital carrying your unconscious body! What the hell is going on?"

My eyes widened, my hand coming up to my head, feeling for a bump. So it wasn't a dream. But that meant…Luke. I met Will's eyes and in a bewildered voice I answered him. "I broke curfew."

His mouth fell open for half a second before he slammed it closed, gritting out, "You'd better be shitting me right now. You can't do that!"

"I couldn't take it anymore, Will!" I tried to explain myself, my voice still low enough in volume as to not attract attention. "We're losing people left and right and it just got to be too much! Like I—like I couldn't breathe!"

"You think you're the only one who feels that way?! We're all stuck here together!" His voice was growing louder with his exasperation. He repeated himself, "You can't do that! There are people who depend on you! I—I depend on you!"

I had no words; nothing I could say in my defense because he was right. Will's eyes were glassy.

"I'm sorry." I tried. Will sighed and started back down the hallway, away from me. I called out to him, "Will! Come on, I'm sorry!"

He stopped, not turning around. "I know. I just—I just can't talk to you right now."

I bit my lip. I really messed up.

Will looked at me over his shoulder before moving on. "I'll talk to you in the morning."

I grimaced as he departed. What the hell had I been thinking? I had just been frustrated and tired, and I had let it cloud my judgement. My thoughts jumped back to Luke. Had I just imagined it was him? Perhaps the soldier who had hit me over the head had only looked like Luke…If he really was here though, then I needed to figure out what was going on. My memory from the morning was hazy but coming back in pieces. I had gone down to the train station and observed some of the Germans receiving a new train. One of them had seemed familiar. I remember catching a glimpse of his face before I was suddenly struck. I sighed. Everything felt like it was becoming more complicated.

I entered the dining hall, ate my fill, and then made myself useful by helping wash medical equipment. The monotonous activity allowed me time to think. My head was still aching, especially if I moved too quickly, so I took each of my movements slowly, much to the annoyance of the other nurses. I paid them no mind; I didn't want to aggravate my headache before the start of a shift. Hell, I probably had a mild concussion—not that that would get me out of working.

I was sure now, that I had seen Luke, and that he was the one who had struck me. This left a plethora of other questions to be answered, the most obvious one being why he was even here. Why was he with the Germans? Sure, he was capable of fitting in physically, what with his blond hair, blue eyes, and sharp nose, but what was he doing masquerading as one in the middle of war-torn France?

I dried my hands and went back to my shared bedroom. I needed to make sure Piper had gotten up, but I also needed to look at that letter Chiron had sent me all those years ago. Luckily, Piper was already awake, stretching her limbs as she greeted me. I murmured the sentiment back as I opened the trunk at the end of my bed. I didn't throw away letters, since they were all I had to remind me of those I had left in America, so I knew Chiron's had to be tucked away somewhere.

Shuffling the papers, I found the right one. It was dated from 1914. He wrote:

As for Luke, the day he turned eighteen he went and joined a division of the government that he refuses to speak about. It is all very confidential, you see. All he says is that he is serving his country.

That was it. The only mention of Luke, and it had been from three years ago.

Piper came up beside me. "Is everything alright?"

I couldn't help sighing as I refolded the letter and placed it back in my trunk. In a low voice, I replied. "I'm not sure. I thought I saw one of my old American friends with the Germans but—"

"What?!" Piper exclaimed in a whisper. "When you say 'with' the Germans, you mean as a patient or a prisoner, right? Not as—"

I shook my head at her, "I mean 'with' as in he was speaking German with them."

"Are you sure?" She tried to rationalize. "How do you know that it wasn't your mind playing tricks on you? We've had a rough few days and you went to bed later than me—what time did you end up getting off last night?"

"You mean this morning?" I quirked half a smile.

Piper flashed a glance to her watch and rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

I didn't reply, because in all honesty I didn't know when I had been so kindly returned to the hospital.

Piper grew suspicious. "Annabeth, where did you see your friend?"

I sighed. Here we go. "At the train station—and spare me the lecture, I already got a talking down from Will."

"Talking down?!" She exclaimed. "You broke curfew and are still alive! How the hell did you manage that?! Is that why you have a bruise on your forehead?"

Instinctively my hand flew up to my head. "Look, I don't have a great explanation and my memory is a little hazy as it is. The short story is that I broke curfew, saw some Germans at the train station, then got hit on the head before two of them carried me back here."

Piper was silent a moment before she replied, "And you think your friend—"

"Luke." I supplied.

"Luke was one of them?"

"Yes."

She looked skeptical. "Are you sure you don't just have a concussion."

It was my turn to roll my eyes. "I'm pretty sure."

Piper and I were quiet, each mulling over what I had said. She didn't believe me. I couldn't blame her. A hit on the head had caused people to spout strange things. I couldn't be exempt. Someone in the hallway traipsed past our room, jarring us from our reverie back into the present. I shot a glance to my timepiece, "Come on, we have to start work."

The sun was setting as we started our work, and as usual, there was plenty to do. The set up was rather strange. Boisleux-au-Mont was under German control, so we were treating German infantry soldiers, but after the initial wave of patients, things started to slow down. The front turned quiet. It seemed as if the Germans had made their push to capture the hospital, and now that they had it, they were content. All in all, we had fewer patients. I think back to those weeks sometimes; I think of the relative peace surrounding us despite the dictatorship hanging over the environment, plaguing it like smoke from a cigar. We could breath, albeit uncomfortably.

Admittedly, I grew paranoid. I could have sworn I had seen Luke, and yet I never saw him in the weeks following. I looked for him everywhere—that is, everywhere I was allowed, due to the strict curfew—but it surmounted to nothing. I just ended up questioning my own memory, coming to the conclusion that my mind had manifested Luke from a mixture of a childhood memory and a wish for the familiar.

Will and I never talked about our argument and I didn't apologize again. I think we both understood that it wouldn't happen again. April came and went. So did May. Boisleux-au-Mont seemed trapped in its own private corner of the war, with no information coming in or out for those of us aligned with the Allied forces. But then…June.

"Hand me those Westcott scissors." I ordered, not moving from my uncomfortable position. I was leaning over my unconscious patient, a few inches away from his face. Piper placed the tiny shears in my outstretched hand. I was operating on an eye full of shrapnel—enough shrapnel for me to have to make the decision to remove the eye entirely. If we didn't, the wound would surely become infected, which could then spread. I made four snips into the rectus muscles then had Piper use forceps to hold them back.

I had to pause and think a moment. The soldier's eye was bleeding, making it difficult to see what I was doing. It didn't help that I had never actually done this procedure before. Sure, I had seen it done before…but that was years ago, and it wasn't like I had been assisting for that surgery. I had watched like the rest of the med students. I felt my heart pick up, so I took a deep breath, and forced myself to recall every detail. It would be no use if I panicked now. The patient had more than enough panic for the both of us before we had to put him under.

Taking the forceps from Piper, I jerked my head toward the kitchen. "Go get a lighter."

She raised her eyebrows and moved away. I sighed and whispered to myself, "Come on, Annabeth. You can do this."

"What, exactly, are we going to be doing?" Piper asked as she came back, lighter and hand. We traded tools and I sopped up as much blood as I could with a rag.

"Let's just say," I replied. "It's a good thing that he's unconscious."

I removed the rag, and quickly flicked the lighter. A small flame burst from the top and wasted no time, running it over the bleeding tissue. An acrid scent arose—the smell of burning flesh. Piper and I both coughed and looked away as it dissipated. Turning back, I surveyed my work. Success.

I began my work again, moving my tools towards the back of the eye.

"You cauterized it." Piper stated.

I nodded slightly. "Couldn't see what I was doing otherwise."

We worked this way a few more minutes, cutting and cauterizing, until we had a clear shot at the optic nerve. Piper clamped it tightly and I began to cut. I winced. It was decidedly harder to do than I had initially thought. Pursing my lips, I applied more pressure, and finally it gave.

I sighed in relief. The hard part was over. I removed my scissors and traded them for a needle and thread. I shared a look with Piper, and before she could ask, I said, "Believe it or not, this is actually the easiest way to pull an eye from its socket."

She raised her eyebrows, as if to say, "Oh really?"

I made a few sutures onto the eye, tied it off, and then tugged. After a few sharp tugs and a trim with the scissors to clear any remaining muscles, the eye came free, into my hand. I flashed a strained smile at Piper and placed it on the side table next to us. She made a face at me in reply.

"I've seen a lot of things in the past couple years here, but that was nasty." She said, beginning to flush the eye socket with water.

I scoffed. "We could be up to our elbows in stomach contents—and this is what you find gross?"

Piper shrugged and nodded. I shook my head and got back to work. We released the clamp on what was left of the optic nerve and cauterized what we could. A few more washes with water and the soldier was on his way to recovery. We both moved to the washroom and cleaned ourselves up. It was the end of our shift and we were both ready to sit down and eat dinner. Piper finished faster than I did and headed to the dining room without me. I scrubbed my hands meticulously, probably taking more time than I needed to. I was drying my hands when I heard the washroom door open behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see who it was, and to my dismay, it was one of the German soldiers. His uniform gave him away.

He had his back to me, his head peaking into the hallway, as if he was seeing if he was followed. My heart sank into my stomach. This wasn't good. I had heard stories of what German soldiers did to women in the towns they had captured. Here, in Boisleux au Mont, they had been instructed to leave the medical staff alone, but I wouldn't put it past one of them to disobey orders. Eyes wide, I moved as far back as I could, to the corner, where I picked up a broom that had been leaning against the wall.

At my movement, the man clicked the door shut and turned around.

"You gonna attack me, Annie?"