Reader warning: Violence.

As always, these characters do not belong to me.

Chapter Eleven

Footsteps approached Annabeth from behind, and she closed her eyes, hating the fact that she knew it was Percy just by the way he moved. She turned to face him, stomach churning because of the way he smiled at her. There was still time.

"Percy," she greeted in a flat voice.

"Hey, uh, I saw you leave and I just, uh, wanted to see if you're alright?" He sounded a little breathless, nervous but excited.

"I'm fine Percy," she assured him quietly, unable to look at him.

"Okay, okay, good," he said smiling again. "Look, I uh, I want to say something –."

"Now's not a good time," she cut across quietly.

He placed his hands up placatingly. "Please just let me, uh, get this out … Uh, listen, it may be the ale I've drunk but could you, uh … do you, um … cause I, um …"

He stumbled over his words and Annabeth hated how she hung to those 'ums' and 'uhs'. She closed her eyes, before gazing at his expectant and hopeful look. He read the pain in her expression, his eyes crinkling in concern thinking something he had said caused it, when in fact, it was entirely her. He went to ask when the swish of clothes alerted him to another presence. He turned his attention towards the movement, taking in Drew and the Elites. His eyes went to Annabeth, silently demanding an explanation but all Annabeth did was step backwards, standing next to her brothers and sisters.

"Oh Percy," Drew crooned. "I've missed seeing your handsomely packaged figure."

He eyed Annabeth for a few seconds longer before answering. "Drew," he greeted in a neutral tone. "I see you haven't changed."

"Why would I change perfection?"

"We have different definitions of that word."

Her smile was a little colder after his statement, her eyes flickering briefly to Annabeth before she composed herself. "We were just talking about you," she informed him.

"I can only imagine what you said," said Percy, keeping his voice light despite the insult.

"Oh, it's Annabeth here who's done all the talking," she declared cheerfully. "Would you like to know what she said?"

Percy pretended to consider her question before shrugging. "Not particularly, no." Annabeth suppressed her grin.

Drew lost patience. Her smile vanished, replaced by a snarl. "You think you're so amusing," she said scathingly.

"And you think you're threatening," said Percy, losing his happy pretence also.

"You've been sentenced to die, by her," she stated, pointing a clawed finger at Annabeth.
"So, joke's on you."

Drew snapped her fingers and the fighters moved tightly around her. Annabeth watched, her heart beating fiercely as Paige, Drew's right-hand woman, drew her blade, moving towards Percy. He made no move to draw his weapon, gazing at Paige calmly and then settling his eyes on Annabeth. There was no anger, no accusation in those green irises. She couldn't look at him, keeping her eyes downcast as Paige stalked forward. She had her part to play, after all.

Unbeknownst to her brothers and sisters, Annabeth had made a third choice. It wasn't hard, not when she took a deep breath and cleared her mind from her shock. While Drew made the arrangements to kill Percy after Annabeth's answer, she all-but ignored her, giving ample time to ensure a plan would outmanoeuvre them all. Her plan had a catch, a cost that would mean she was stepping over a line, breaking an oath she long held dear and it scared her how willing she was to cross it if it meant Percy would live.

So, Annabeth waited, watching from the corner of her eye as Paige moved. The Elite was hesitant, unused to the lack of defence but after a quick glance back and a reassuring nod from her captain, she surged forward, prompting Annabeth to do the same. In a blink of an eye she was standing in front of Percy, her knife in hand after pushing aside the thrusting sword directed at his heart, sending Paige stumbling aside as the steel clashed loudly.

Drew's eyes narrowed as she took in Annabeth's protective position in front of Percy. The Elites behind her gasped quietly or shifted uneasily in their surprise. "You made a choice," Drew stated in a hard voice. "Kill him or the villagers."

"I chose him, but I didn't say I would stand by and let you kill him," she stated, adjusting her stance readying for the assault.

"I knew you secretly wanted to be my bodyguard," Percy murmured in her ear. Annabeth wished he took their situation more seriously.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," said Drew with a dramatic sigh. "Oh, Annabeth. Luke's going to be so disappointed when hears of your new allegiance." She drew her sword, the others behind her doing the same. She had an air of casualty, but Annabeth could see behind the façade as she gazed into her hard stare. "And you can be sure he'll get every detail about this. Detain Annabeth," she ordered her fighters. "Kill her along with the deserter if you have to."

"Wait," said Annabeth. They obeyed, causing Drew's eyes to narrow a fraction. She looked to each of them, some she recognised but most she hadn't seen before. Luke had been recruiting in her absence, and it was there that she focused her persuasion.

She put away her knife, her hands up placatingly. "Please listen to me. This isn't necessary. Killing, isn't necessary." Drew scoffed and some of the Elites she knew, Paige, Katarina, shook their heads. "I'm one of you. I am tasked with retrieving the Crystal for Luke and nothing will come between me and my task. Not even those seeking power or credit," she added, her gaze on Drew, who smirked behind the fire in her eyes. "But threatening innocent lives? I won't agree to that. Surely you see that isn't who we are. I don't want to fight you, but I will defend them if I have to."

There was a brief silence and Annabeth could see some of the newer Elites looked hesitant but then Drew laughed, a high pitch bellow of a laugh that grated on Annabeth's ears.

"Oh, this is just priceless," she chortled. "Who would've thought Annabeth could be, soft? I thought your pride would prevent such a feat. They won't be swayed by your teary pleading. We have our orders."

"Yes, but are they Luke's, or are they yours?"

Annabeth could see the truth in the way she flinched at the accusation. It was subtle but Annabeth had been watching her for years and noted her tells and ticks. Drew didn't like being caught out, and her expression was one of pure venom.

"You have your orders," she barked. "See it done."

"Ah, see! I told you we weren't late, Chris."

Clarisse and Chris moved into the light of the torches, weapons already in hand. Clarisse glanced at the situation, her eyes alight with the prospect of a proper fight. The fighters around Drew tightened their hands on their weapons, not accounting for the extra numbers. Even Drew looked a little less sure, but she held her composure as only Drew could.

"You didn't think you could fight without an Arenian joining in?" Clarisse queried before clicking her tongue in disappointment. "That was just poor planning."

"Shut it, you filthy Arenian," spat Drew. "This doesn't concern you."

Clarisse blinked at the insult, staring indignantly at Chris, whose cautioned look only fuelled her outrage. Her expression turned pleading, then angered when Chris shook his head. He was right in staying her hand. If they started this fight, the Elite would have reason to use any force they deem is appropriate to eliminate the threat, which was in most cases was death.

"Careful Drew," warned Percy, standing beside Annabeth. "I don't care if you insult me, but if you insult Clarisse again, there will be consequences."

Drew laughed derisively. "You're in no position to say such things, coward."

Clarisse gave another pointed look to Chris, her eyes widening and gesturing towards the group. Again, Chris shook his head, his own expression stern when she appeared to silently argue. She glared at the Elites accusingly.

"I'm not ashamed of my choices," said Percy. "Only a petty person would hold another's choices against them."

Drew, after a look of outrage at being called 'petty', sent her Elites into the skirmish. Annabeth drew her knife and parried the first strike, blocking another and spinning to face a third head on. Percy engaged with two while Clarisse and Chris, Clarisse yelling a deafening war cry as she surged forward, fought together against another two. Drew stayed back and surveyed the fight, her glare fixed on Percy.

Annabeth circled with her opponents, knowing this wasn't going to be like any other fight she had fought before. Bandits were loose cannons with slight skill, cultists only with mad fanaticism on their side and soldiers, while being the strongest of the three, were nothing compared to trained Elites. The Elites Annabeth recognised squared off against Percy while the recruits faced Annabeth. Her three opponents were young, lively, but she could tell they were inexperienced, giving her a slight edge.

"There's still time," reasoned Annabeth as they circled. "Don't make me hurt you." Her words fell on deaf ears as they engaged.

Her attacks were sporadic, sticking mainly to defensive manoeuvres as her opponents charged, trying to overwhelm her with sheer force. Annabeth weaved between the three, her cloak fanning out around her as she spun, ducking back to avoid a strike, moving in close and kicking away one, turning to block the arching sword aimed at her back, sliding her knife down the blade, elbowing the owner, then swivelling away to engage with the third.

They had not expected her skill. Had not expected their attacks to be constantly blocked again and again, with only a couple managing to hit their intended target but even then, only striking armour. Annabeth, for all the hits she landed, she was hesitant to land a killing blow. She knew it was irrational and knew that if she didn't attack with the intent to kill, she was handicapping her fighting, but they were kids, misconstrued in what they were doing and who they were fighting.

Her hesitancy cost her, just as she was afraid it would. Annabeth had driven them back, had them confused and desperately trying to remain on their feet and away from her knife. She had disarmed one, knocking him aside and to the ground. He clutched his side as blood dripped from his mouth. She faced the next recruit, re-positioning the knife in her hand so its blade was adjacent to her forearm, driving one punch, two punches into her face, its force doubled by her grip on the handle. Annabeth reared from a swing having to step back to keep her balance. Unbeknownst to her, she stepped into the swinging arc of the Elite she had knocked down. Annabeth, realised the threat too late. A cry of pain left her lips as his hidden knife ran across her right leg, leaving a trail of fire and stinging pain in its wake.

Annabeth parried the next strike and skirted away, backtracking as they advanced on her, their confidence and energy rising. She dimly heard Percy shout her name, but she could only focus on ignoring her pain and keeping her attention on the Elites. She was still alive, still moving. She was not defeated yet and she had no intention of submitting. She held her own for the next attacks, blocking and dodging but her leg flared in pain with each sidestep. If her heavy pants and wheezes of pain were any indication, she knew, as her opponents did, that she couldn't keep it up for much longer.

Her injury was sapping her remaining energy and she was tiring quickly. She darted away, getting just enough of a glimpse at the melee to see they were losing ground. Percy fought furiously with his two, attempting to get the upper hand but they held him back. Clarisse and Chris were holding their own against their opponents but had been pushed further away to be of any help. It was then that something switched for her. Seeing the three of them struggle, because of the choices she made. She couldn't let them fall because she was hesitant. She was no longer worried about preserving the lives of her brothers and sisters. She was Annabeth the Elite, the determined, the ruthless. If they had to die so she and the others could live, so be it.

She faced her opponents again, one last ploy she had yet to execute. They moved in and Annabeth stood her ground, waiting for her moment. She copped a gash to her arm and grunted, spinning and parrying the next strike. She punched the closest one in the jaw, sending her reeling, swivelling to engage the second, getting in close to push him away to get space. She dropped to her knee as the third closed in for the killing blow to her back, spinning and as she did so, grabbed the knife at her back in her left hand. She brought the knife up, slicing it under the blow and then upwards as she rose back to her feet. The Elite froze in shock, clutching at her throat as blood poured between her fingers. She fell to her knees, her eyes wide as she met Annabeth's hardened gaze before falling to the ground.

The fights ceased at the fall of the first casualty, all in shock at what happened. Only Annabeth remained outwardly composed, readied in her stance to face her other opponents, her right arm and knife up, almost kissing the side of her face while her left hand held her new dagger protectively in front. Inside, she felt as though she was falling apart. She kept all her weight off her right leg, which continued to throb in pain. She could feel the blood trickle down her leg, but she couldn't inspect it, not when there was still a threat in front of her.

A line had been crossed. Annabeth had crossed that line when she had killed the Elite; one of her kin. There would be consequences for her actions if word got back to Luke. Why couldn't they have just listened to her? Why couldn't she have been more than her training, been able to restrain from making the killing blow. She was a killer, that was who she was, and Drew knew that. Though she had paled initially; a sort of deep resolution had settled on Drew's face as her eyes rose from the girl face down on the ground.

"This has been a surprise," Drew's voice was soft and cold. "Tend to your injuries, as we tend to our fallen. Enjoy the time you have left with each other." She looked dangerous. And triumphant. Annabeth could see the gleam in her eyes as she moved forward to collect the Elite. She had wanted Annabeth to kill them and deal with the fallout.

Annabeth never took her eyes off her opponents as one by one they sheathed their weapons, the recruits carrying the body of their fallen comrade. They moved to Drew, then disappeared into the shadows. Drew was the last to leave, her eyes piercing as she glared at Annabeth before darkness engulfed her. It was only after she was sure they had left that Annabeth's leg gave way and she fell. She was whimpering through her short breaths, stowing away her weapons and clutching her leg. Percy was there seconds after she fell, crouched at her side with Chris and Clarisse on his heels.

"Annabeth let me see," he instructed gently, his hands hovering over her wound.

"I'm sorry," she burst out. She needed him to hear her reason for sentencing him to die. She needed him to know she didn't want it. "I didn't want to choose you, but they didn't give me a choice and I knew that I could protect you easier than an entire town and –."

"Shh, shh it's okay," he cut across her ramblings. "I'm not angry, Annabeth. I understand why you did what you did. Just let me have a look." She moved her hand to the side so he could inspect it. "Dammit, there isn't enough light," cursed Percy. "We need to find you a physician."

"We need to be ready for when she comes back," said Annabeth. "Just find me a bandage or something." She grunted as she shifted her leg into what she hoped was more comfortable position. It wasn't. "I can fight through the pain," she hissed through gritted teeth.

"I'm sure you could," Percy humoured her. "But you won't be doing much fighting if you pass out from blood loss."

Annabeth closed her eyes, knowing he was right. The throbbing in her leg was getting slowly worse and making it hard to concentrate. While she calmed her breaths, focusing on that as her adrenaline ebbed, she dimly registered the three of them making plans to follow the Elites, gage what they were about to come up against and work out a strategy. She kept a steady hand on her wound, clenching it as tightly as she could, her blood still trickling through her fingers.

The next few minutes were a bit of a blur for Annabeth. She recalled getting helped to her feet by Percy, her angered growl breaking the silence around them. Their journey to the physician was slow and laboured but one minute she was rounding the back of the buildings into the light and noise of the tavern and then she was hugging the doorway of the physician's for support, Percy moving into the darkened room calling out to see if anyone was home. He had yelled moments earlier, she registered late, demanding the whereabouts of the physician from a drunkard who had stumbled onto their path.

"If they're here, then they must be upstairs," Percy informed her, coming back into view.

He had grabbed a lantern from somewhere, placing it on a hook to give them some light. He grabbed her around the waist, leading her towards the centre of the room where the worktable sat. She leapt up onto the table edge with a small grunt after removing her cloak, taking a few deep breaths with the fresh wave of pain as her legs dangled over. Annabeth glanced down at her gash, giving she had light to inspect it, while Percy searched the bench and cupboards opposite her for supplies with another lantern.

The gash ran diagonally across her right thigh. It didn't appear to be too deep, which was only a slight relief as it was still bleeding heavily. Annabeth clamped both hands on it, squeezing the skin together in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding. She panted a little, wiggling out the numbness in her toes just as Percy returned, pressing a bandage against her wound.

"This is all I could find," he apologised. "There's herbs and tinctures there but I don't understand the labels."

"This will be fine," she assured him, giving him a small smile, easing the crease of concern on his face. She glanced back down at her wound, sighing a little.

"It could've been worse," said Percy softly, reading her thoughts. Was she that transparent? Drew did it earlier, now Percy. She hoped she wasn't.

"I forgot how cumbersome injuries were," she admitted. "Maybe you could add nurse to your repertoire?" she added with a grin.

Percy reluctantly smiled, his eyes finding hers. "I'll keep it in mind," he told her.

They stayed in silence while Percy continued to put pressure on Annabeth's wound. She tried not to look at him, but she couldn't help herself; not when he was so close. His focus was on her wound, on keeping her still, but could he feel her gaze? As she had felt his so often. She wanted to reach out and touch him, run her fingers through his hair and trace those lips … whoa, she must've lost more blood than she had thought and gone delirious. She gripped the edge of the table after feeling her fingers twitch. She gave her head a little shake just as Percy tilted his head, his face illuminated by the lantern and Annabeth started.

"Wait, what's that?" she asked, reaching out and touching his cheek near his ear.

He moved his head from her reach, smiling assuredly at her. "It's nothing. I just got clipped."

"Let me see," she said, trying to turn his head but he darted away again.

"It's fine, Annabeth, really."

"Let me see," she insisted.

She was more forceful when she reached for his face a third time and he relented, letting her inspect his face. There was a cut near his hairline above his ear, but it didn't look too deep. Both of his cheeks were red from being struck, the left looking as though one more hit would cause the skin to split. Another small cut was at the end of his eyebrow, causing one of his eyes to begin to bruise but he fared alright considering their skirmish.

"It doesn't look too bad," she informed him. "But you should probably get it cleaned."

"Alright," he replied. His voice was a little huskier than usual, but Annabeth just assumed it was because he was a little out of breath from the fight and practically carrying her to the house.

"You're lucky. I've seen Katarina fight before. She's a knife wielder like me but she likes to slash, essentially playing with her enemy until they've got so many cuts that they can no longer fight. She's always been a bit sadistic like that and …"

Annabeth broke off, her voice hitching. While she had been talking, she realised she had been gently caressing Percy's face, her fingers tracing light circles on his cheeks, his jaw, his neck. She had thought she had pulled her hands away once she assured herself his injuries weren't serious but obviously her body hadn't forgotten her thoughts from before. It was the reason why Percy's voice sounded different, breathless; his whole body was frozen under her touch.

She was suddenly very conscious of their position against each other. She had stopped breathing, her fingers stilling against his cheeks. She could feel his gaze on her face; a gaze she met hesitantly and then was ensnared within. Her heart was beating wildly under her armour, her pain a distant memory the longer she stared into Percy's eyes. He bought a hand slowly up to the side of her face. His touch was gentle, careful, like she was a young foal he didn't want to scare away. When she didn't push him away or flinch from his touch, he took it as an encouragement. He leant in a fraction closer, swallowing thickly.

"Please, don't hit me again," he murmured, his breath gently brushing her cheeks. He didn't have the chance to lean in further because Annabeth closed the distance, pressing her lips against his.

It was better than her dream kiss. It was better than the surprise kiss he had given her. The first kiss was tentative, mixed with a hint of adrenaline. The second one was a bit more settled, the two of them exploring the new sensation of kissing each other, and then their attraction for each other came through. It felt as though a burst of energy surged through Annabeth from the touch of his lips, and oh boy, she wanted more.

Her hands were in his hair, trailing down and along his jaw so she could tilt his head to give her better access to his lips. His hands … well, through her haze of their frantic kisses, she could very much feel where his hands were. Even through her clothes and armour, her body tingled at the contact. While he had started caressing her cheeks, his fingers moved down past her neck and shoulders, settling at her waist and hips, tracing the contours of her body.

She deepened their kiss, or maybe he did, it didn't matter because it was exactly what Annabeth wanted, needed. Looking back, she could excuse her actions as a result of adrenaline, of the shock of her injury but she knew it was only part of her reason for kissing Percy. For that moment in the darkened room, she needed him closer. She pulled him toward her and he willingly obliged, never breaking their kiss. He did, however, bump her right leg and the flare of pain was too much to ignore.

Annabeth gasped in pain, her body flinching and recoiling. She was still holding Percy's head in her hands, their foreheads touching but the lustful haze that had clouded her thoughts cleared. They shared an embarrassed smile, Annabeth's face heating as she steadied her breaths and her racing heart. Percy also looked flushed, but he made no move to leave her, instead pulling away enough to brush a stray lock from her face, his lips lifting into a tender smile, his eyes bright. She almost kissed him again when a deliberate cough came from behind them in the next room.

Percy moved to stand protectively in front of her, his sword half-raised before they saw the woman by a set of stairs was no threat to either of them. Annabeth relaxed, setting aside her knife, her face growing hotter guessing what the woman must have seen but, her leg flared in pain again, almost in agitation that Annabeth had forgotten about it once already.

"I can only assume your broke into my house for a good reason?" the woman said, adding a questioning tone at the end of her statement. If her leg wasn't throbbing, Annabeth would've felt more embarrassed. "Or do I need to put it down to lust?"

"If you could help us, we would be grateful," said Percy, not an ounce of embarrassment in his voice. "She's been injured."

The woman looked at the two of them thoughtfully, before nodding. "See to a fire," she told Percy, gesturing to the wall beside the stairs.

The physician walked forward, settling into a business-like state as Percy heeded her command. The middle-aged woman tied back her long brown hair, washing her hands at a small basin. She moved towards Annabeth, gently inspecting the wound. She had a kind looking face, with wrinkles around her eyes that suggested she smiled often. Her fingers were thin and nimble, as she moved her assessment from Annabeth's leg to her arm. There was a small curse but then light flared beside them as Percy got a small fire burning.

"Your wounds are shallow, but you will need to keep your movements minimal," she instructed.

"I can't do that," Annabeth argued. "I will need to fight when they come back."

The physician stilled, making Annabeth's suspicions flare. "If that is the case, then I will need to cauterize that leg wound," she replied briskly. The woman headed over to the fireplace, placing a steel rod over the flames. She turned back to Annabeth, Percy hovering at her side. "Your armour took the brunt of your other injury, so I'll only need to wash that one out. If you don't mind the sting. You as well," she added to Percy, gesturing to his face.

While the woman worked, mixing herbs and water into tinctures, Annabeth watched her carefully, taking note of the stiffness in her movements, the tension in the set of her shoulders. She kept eyeing Percy as he paced restlessly beside the table, the grip on her knife tightening if he got too close. Annabeth glanced towards the stairs and then up to the roof. She would've heard the two of them, Percy's loud queries. She could've easily seen the two of them from the top of the stairs and yet, she waited until they were distracted with each other to descend.

"You should go and check on Chris and Clarisse," Annabeth told Percy quietly after he had taken a tincture for his injuries.

"They'll find us," said Percy stubbornly.

"I'm not going anywhere," she assured him. Her eyes met his, silently urging him to listen to her. "And that steel rod is going to take a while to heat up. We should be prepared."

"Alright," he said hesitantly after a moment. He looked quickly to the physician then back to her. "I won't be long," he added and then, before Annabeth could blink, he kissed her on the forehead, taking off swiftly through the door.

Annabeth stared after him, jumping when the physician started cleaning her arm. She watched as the physician worked, admiring the care and swiftness in which the woman executed her craft.

"I don't know your name," said Annabeth before introducing herself.

"Clara," the woman said, giving her a generic smile.

Annabeth returned the smile as Clara moved towards her work bench. "You have a lovely place," she complimented, watching her carefully. "I bet you have a good view from upstairs."

Clara paused in crushing herbs in a mortar, confirming Annabeth's suspicions. Her hand rested on the handle of her knife when she noticed Clara's gaze towards her small work knife. Her fingers slipped away when Clara turned without the knife, her eyes glazed with tears and fear.

"I have a daughter," she told Annabeth, a slight wobble in her voice.

"I won't let anything happen to her," Annabeth promised. "Or anyone here."

"I heard your speech to those Elites," she replied, turning back to her tincture.

"You don't believe me?" Annabeth queried after hearing her tone.

"I believe you're at a disadvantage."

"We'll see."

Annabeth was handed a cup of a mixture that tasted bland, but the pain lessened in her leg in a matter of minutes. With a bit of shuffling, Annabeth removed her belt and pants, aggravating the wound and leaving her sitting in her undershorts, which she only had to push up. Clara gave her some words of encouragement, hearing her snarls of pain as she checked the rod. Percy returned minutes later, shaking some water from his hair after cleaning his face.

"Well?" asked Annabeth as he moved to her side.

"Clarisse hadn't reported back yet," he answered, his eyes inspecting, averting them quickly when he saw the bare skin of her legs. Annabeth tried not to smile.

"Should Chris check on her?"

"Nah, she knows what she's doing. Everything okay here?" he added quietly.

"Yes, just needed to clear something up."

Percy frowned but said nothing more as Clara came over, her expression a little grave. Annabeth was instructed to sit back on the table, making her legs flat against the wood. With a shake of her head from her next query, Annabeth remained sitting, accepting the leather bit given to her by Clara. Percy gently shifted her position so she could lean back against him, his arms wrapping around her to hold her steady. More bracing than loving, Annabeth could feel the heat of his body on her back as she placed the bit in her mouth, closing her eyes and bracing as the steel hit her skin, the wound sizzling as it was sealed closed.

Even with her teeth clenched, she couldn't stop the scream that wheezed between the bit and her lips. Clara gave her a minute before inspecting the wound, covering it with some sort of tincture before wrapping it tightly in a new bandage. Percy didn't appear in any rush to let her go, still holding her to his chest, those his grip had loosened. Annabeth found herself leaning more heavily against him as the pain subsided and it was only the arrival of Chris and Clarisse that she sat up on her own, pushing away his arms.

"Percy, we should prepare," said Clarisse urgently before spotting Clara. "Hey, I remember you! You have excellent stitch work."

"I'm surprised you do," replied Clara with an amused smile. "You were quite inebriated at the time."

"Inebriated? Nah, I was just drunk. It was a good party," she added with a chuckle.

Clara looked to Chris to see if she should correct her, but he shook his head with a sigh. Annabeth and Percy shared a smile, before she looked away, a little embarrassed at how her heart raced at the thought of his lips. The three of them gave her some pace so she could get dressed, glancing towards Clara as she fixed her belt into place.

"Thank you," she said.

"Thank me by keeping your word," answered Clara.

With a nod, Annabeth left, limping to Percy who waited for her in the doorway, knowing deep down that it probably wasn't going to be the last time she met this physician.