I was changing a corporal's bandages when I heard yelling from the staircase. I shot the man a smile, who gazed back at me wearily, and then proceeded to the hallway to see what was going on.

I rammed directly into Francis Laurent, the custodian of the hospital I had met upon my arrival here. "What's the matter?"

"They need a doctor!" He expressed his actions tone by waving his arms madly.

I started to push past him as he continued. Laurent lamented, "On the front. There's been a terrible accident!"

The front? That meant—no. That meant going down to the trenches. I felt my stomach lower. I answered him timidly, "Can no one else go?"

"Everyone is in the middle of surgeries! Please! There isn't time." Laurent pushed the small of my back to urge me down the stairs. I moved without thinking, doing what Laurent so desperately wanted me to do. I descended to the main level and packed a medical bag. It had a red cross emblazoned on the sides.

I secured my hat tightly on my head. I was doing this. I was going directly into the midst of the war. "What was the emergency?"

"An artillery cannon collapsed on four men." Laurent told me as he practically forced me from the hospital and into an automobile. He climbed in after me and kept talking. "They cannot move it easily, which is the reason I brought this."

Laurent held up a saw, which was normally used in procedures to cut off—oh. I was going to cut the bodies free, all the while, being shot at by the Germans, who all of a sudden felt a lot closer. I took a large, deep breath and tried to calm my racing heart. What if I died? Oh, Lord. What would they tell my father? What would they tell Percy? Would he even find out? After all, I was insignificant in the scheme of things, really.

No.

I have to stop thinking like this.

I will be fine.

"Okay." I muttered as we sped across the land toward the layers of trenches in the distance.

Piper's p.o.v.

Where did Annabeth go? I had left for just a moment to fetch more water for the injured. Now she was no where to be found. I turned to a fellow nurse—Lacy, I think her name was. "Do you know where Dr. Chase is?"

Lacy met my stare with worried eyes. "She was called out of the hospital a few minutes ago."

"But where did she go?" I asked insistently.

"You're not going to like it."

"I didn't ask if I would like it. Now, where is she?" I was now on edge, and the soldiers around me were taking notice.

"They needed a doctor at the front lines." Lacy replied, fearful for my reaction. Chills ran up and down my spine. How could she have agreed to go there? What would happen to her?

"Start praying." I ordered Lacy, who only nodded vigorously in reply. And as much as I wanted to wait at the hospital door waiting for Annabeth to come back—she would come back—I knew that my work couldn't stop. I went around checking wounds helping out, all the while murmuring the words to a song my mother used to sing.

Annabeth's p.o.v.

I felt the stares of many men as I tromped my way through the muddy trenches. My eyes were alight with the visuals before me. I did exactly as I was told. I kept my head low and my back arched. It was not an easy position to sustain. I carried my bag while another man carried my saw. Everywhere I went, everyone got out of my way. This was for two reasons:

1. I was a woman. These men probably hadn't seen one in a long time.

2. I was wearing my doctor's uniform. It symbolized that I was here to help.

It was lucky, you could say, that today was the day I chose to wear pants. I had bought them in the small town from one of the old ladies who had refused to evacuate the town, and instead stayed to help where they could. The skirt that I normally wore would not have done well here. Here. Where it is easy to trip over the dirt swells and dead bodies. I swallowed the smell without making a face.

When we reached the site of the damage, someone had to call for everyone to get out of the way. There was a small, stressed chuckle that spread throughout the men. I died out when I dropped to my knees by the first man and the soldier behind me handed me the saw. From then on, they were all silent as they watched what I was going to do. As if it were a show.

"Hello there, soldier," I whispered to the first victim under my breath. His eyes flickered open as checked for his pulse. It was steady enough. "This is going to hurt really, really bad. Feel free to cry out. That's normal. You will be just fine."

He nodded with wide eyes, which were quickly filling with tears. Pins pricked my eyes too as I cut away the pants. I would be making a cut right above the knee. He would never walk again. But he would live.

I glanced to the men around me. They were watching astutely. "You may need to hold him down."

Two of them nodded, then got down and joined me on their knees. Here we go.

"Close your eyes, soldier." I ordered, and he complied immediately.

I zoned out after I started hacking at his legs. There was dark blood everywhere. On my arms and on my face. I didn't even flinch. I had a job to do. No one else would do it. As soon as the first was free, I bandaged his newly formed stumps, and he was lifted onto a stretcher. He would be transported to the Boisleux-au-Mont hospital in no time.

Then it was onto the next.

I quickly wiped the sword off with a rag and poured a bottle of antiseptic over it. The process started over. Three more. Now two. Just one more.

When I finished, one soldier helped me to my feet, which were cold and numb. I stumbled slightly before regaining my balance. I turned to the rest of the men looking at me. Well, most were looking at me. The others were still viewing the ends of the men's legs, which stuck out from underneath the artillery cannon.

"Is there anything I can do for you boys?" I asked tiredly. A few nodded. By now the sounds of firing rifles and yelling had blurred into the background. I shut it out as I began to help who I could.

I wrapped gauze around one man's head, stopping the bleeding from a barbed wire laceration to his ear. I stitched up multiple cuts which had been deemed not serious enough to send to the hospital. By noon, I realized that if I were to stay here helping, I would need more supplies. I moved to the furthest layer of trenches, and sent for more materials.

Then it started raining. The thunder made it hard to hear anything, and that was acceptable. As I waited for more tools, I tried to make casual conversation with those around me. A couple were playing cards. Some were sleeping. I knew that the outermost trenches were where soldiers would get a break for a week before rotating back into the fighting trenches, closer to No-Man's-Land.

"What's your name?" One asked me. He looked seventeen or eighteen maybe.

"I am Doctor Annabeth Chase." I said, giving him a wry smile. He gave one back.

"Are you American?" He asked and I nodded. "Never thought I would meet an American girl in the war."

"It seems this war has not been what it was expected to be." I commented. The soldier nodded and swallowed.

"Some days, I can't remember what we're even fighting for anymore."

I lowered my eyes.

"Why on earth would anyone want to come here?" He asked. I didn't reply, and he kept talking. He probably needed someone to talk to. "I used to love the idea of war. My father always spoke of it with fond memories. I didn't think it would be like this. We're just animals— waiting to be slaughtered."

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Mark."

"Mark," I began, staring up at the darkened sky, where rain was coming down in sheets. "I want you to promise me that you will find something to focus all of your hope on. Think of something—anything that brings you joy—and anytime you feel yourself slipping away, think of it."

"Does that really work?" He smiled skeptically.

"I have no idea." I responded. We both grinned.

A tall man, hunched over greatly, approached me with a large carpet bag in his arms. I got up to meet him. When he moved aside, I saw Piper. Her normal kaleidoscope eyes had darkened to a deep green.

"What are you doing here?" I asked immediately.

"I couldn't very well let you tackle this on your own." She replied, not sorry. "You should be grateful. I woke up a few people to work our shift for us."

I paused, then gave her a brilliant smile. "You're amazing, you know that?"

She blushed, and we got to work. The excessive amount of carbolic lotion we used was crazy, as it could help protect wounds from becoming infected. Each man we treated left after receiving a smile from each of us. For the first time in a while, I felt I was truly glad to be where I was, making such a difference in these men's lives.

That night, after I had thoroughly washed my face and left my dirty uniform over a chair in a corner, I forced myself to write a letter to my father. I had to try, right?

Dear Father,

I know not if you will read this letter, but if you have made it this far, I urge you to keep reading. I am sorry for not complying to your wishes of my return home, but the truth is, it has not been "home" for a long time. I do not feel a part of your new family, though I do wish you all health and wellness.

My work here is indispensable to the war effort. I know America has made the decision to remain neutral, but I believe I am doing my duty to humanity. If I can make a difference, I will do all that I can. I will not lie and say the job is easy. Today I had to go down into the trenches, where the soldiers fight, and amputate the limbs of four men. It is terrifying there. And what scares me more than the thought of dying is how fast I became accustomed to the noise all around me.

I miss your guidance. It would be welcomed greatly at any time.

I have something to ask of you, as well. Months ago, I went to London and spoke at a convention for doctors. You no doubt heard of the first aerial attacks on Great Britain, which occurred while I was there. But that is not the point. I met someone. He is a naval captain, and we have been corresponding through letters. After the war is over, I hope you will agree to meet him. That is, if you ever reply to me. I will not give up, though. That has never been a part of who I am. You have always said I was too stubborn for my own good. I should have known I got that trait from you.

Please, find it in your heart to forgive my actions so that we may reconcile someday in the future, however far off it may be. I love you.

Your daughter,

Annabeth.

I folded the letter and left it on the table. I would send it out to be mailed tomorrow. Even after all I had seen and heard today, my thoughts calmed once I thought of him.

Captain Perseus Jackson.