Reader warning: Violence.

As always, these characters do not belong to me.

Chapter Twelve

"We're heavily outnumbered," was Clarisse's way of starting the conversation.

"They've got bandits with them," explained Chris, taking a small knife and crouching on the street to draw a rough layout in the dirt. "Judging by the way they're forming, they'll attack us with half the bandits where we first met them," he marked it with an 'X'. "And then once we're preoccupied, overwhelm us with a secondary force coming up from behind."

"Basic ambush," Percy summarised. He looked at the drawing thoughtfully. "Could've been the plan from the start."

"Yes, but what they didn't count on was the extra swords," said Annabeth. "We need to stop that ambush."

"I don't think we should separate," Chris disagreed. "That'll make both parties too vulnerable."

"Not if we can keep the building at our back," said Annabeth, pointing to the line indicating the wall. "Their main goal is Percy, so if he and I are stationed there, all of the attack will be directed at us."

"Narrow the attack options and we theoretically could hold them off long enough for the two of you to disband the ambush and join us," said Percy.

"That'll be their strongest force," said Clarisse, expressing her doubt. "I mean, you two are skilled but those Elites are just as skilled and blondie here is injured. They would have trained expecting a fight back."

"We don't have much of a choice," said Annabeth, glancing quickly at Percy who nodded. "Besides, it comes down to whether you can stop that force and join us before we get too overwhelmed."

"We can get there," Clarisse vowed.

Chris took a bit longer to reply. "It will have to be done discreetly. If we alert the ambush of our presence, they may alert Drew."

"If she's smart she'll know something is up when you're not with us," said Annabeth.

"She thinks she's too smart," noted Percy with a grin. "We could sprinkle some other story and no doubt she'll buy it."

"Possibly but she'll be on her way by now. We should get ready."

They said their goodbyes, Chris and Clarisse moving swiftly to head off the ambush while Percy brushed away their map with his boot. Annabeth limped towards the meeting point, Percy trailing. She had left her cloak at the physician's and a breeze ruffled her hair, causing her to shiver and re-tighten the strap to keep it from her face. Reaching the point where they were to make their stand, Annabeth rested against crates left in the street, testing her range of movement in her leg. Percy watched her, though his face was half in shadow, she knew he was worried.

"I'll be fine," she assured him with a smile.

He moved closer, reaching out and grabbing her hand. She let him, her skin tingling and heart kicking a little. He watched his thumb trace light circles on the back of her hand, his eyes softening a little when she gently squeezed his hand.

"What if we let them go?" he asked quietly. He met her gaze. "What if you declare yourself a traitor to the Elites?" Annabeth leant back slightly in surprise, but she didn't pull her hand away; not yet. "You wouldn't have to go to the Cave. You wouldn't have to risk your life for Luke anymore. You could come with me, to the village," he added softly, his eyes searching hers.

She glanced away, her eyes now the ones of their grasped hands. He knew the consequences of her actions. Of course he did, he was once an Elite himself. He also knew what had to be done if Annabeth was to keep her position and continue her mission. While she wasn't considering killing all of them, Drew and her Elites couldn't report back. Better to let Luke think they had deserted or gone missing. Annabeth had considered grabbing the Crystal and using it as a pardoning chip, but she couldn't trust he would take it and not punish her anyway.

Yet, she couldn't help but picture what would happen if she did accept Percy's proposal. She would go with him to his home, explore these new feelings she had developed and maybe they would grow … Maybe she could find a new home just as Chris had described. She had never had any issues with her place at the Elites but what if she could settle down? And instead of wielding a knife or a sword she could wield a pen and create villages and cities of her own, finally able to build something of her own …

But there was Luke and the Elites and their goals. Didn't she want that? What if she left and someone else, Drew, probably, went to grab the Crystal but they didn't understand the risks. What if Luke then ruled and she was obliged to serve him once again but without the status or privileges she had gained. There was no saying whether Percy would stay with her either. What if she threw everything away for nothing?

"I can't," said Annabeth. She found his gaze, giving him an apologetic smile. "I know the risks, others that would be sent in my place wouldn't. That's not fair on them."

"And Luke entrusted it to you," he added, smiling though it didn't reach his eyes. "I knew what your answer would be, but I had to try."

With her free hand, she reached up and placed her palm against his cheek. To her surprise, he didn't flinch away but leaned into her touch, his eyes lighting with her gesture.

"Maybe after …" she said, not quite an offer but more of a suggestion.

"Maybe after," he repeated, turning his head slightly to kiss her palm. What a strange thing, she thought wondrously, as her heart warmed the longer she gazed at him.

Movement had Annabeth turning, dropping her hands to her weapons as Drew and the remaining Elites came into view. There were hard gazes in each of the faces that met Annabeth's; they wanted blood. She was very conscious of her wound, knowing she would have to put every bit of skill she had learnt into practise. Firstly to stay alive and secondly to not kill all of them.

"How cute," said Drew, sneering. "A lover's last embrace. I can't wait to kill you both. How's the leg?"

Annabeth stood tall, drawing both her knives. "Don't do this, Drew."

Drew smiled. "Afraid you'll lose? You should be."

With a click of her fingers, bandits joined her and the Elites. She heard Percy shuffle and knew without looking they had been flanked, demolishing their plan of attack. Their shoulder's touched and Annabeth met his gaze, giving him a tiny nod and quirk of her lips. It wasn't the end; they still would have a chance. Unless these bandits were part of the intended ambush and something had happened to Chris and Clarisse.

"Hiring bandits isn't our way," said Annabeth angrily.

"I didn't want anyone to miss out on the fun," Drew told Annabeth once she faced her again. "A lot has changed since you left. Think of it as the beginning of the new order." Drew's eyes narrowed. "Where's that stupid Arenian and her partner?" she asked.

Annabeth smirked, relieved that they could still be alive. "Can't you see them?" A nervous ripple went through the bandits and Elites. "No? I expect you will soon enough."

"I hated hearing your sanctimonious preaching day in, day out," she snarled. "Finally, I get to shut you up."

The Elites sent the bandits in first, who were more than happy to charge at a seemingly inferior number. After the first few fell, the Elites moved in, Drew hanging back again to watch the carnage. Annabeth and Percy weaved around each other, their weapons slicing through air, skin and armour as the clash of steel and cries of pain echoed around them. While they weren't yet a seamless fighting unit, Percy and Annabeth were still effective and even her hinderance. They soon felled half of the bandits and incapacitated two of the younger Elites, but still more came.

Annabeth leapt up onto the crates, kicking away a spear and somersaulting off into the space behind her attackers. She staggered on the landing, grunting as her leg flared in pain, batting away another spear and losing her footing after a shield was barged into her side. She waited for the next strike, parrying it and sending the attacker off-balance, driving home her secondary knife into his chest. She dropped down and spun, taking out the legs of a bandit, rising to grab her knife from the bandit's chest before he collapsed, throwing it at another, diving and rolling to meet the bandit who had her knife in her shoulder, slicing her other across her neck and facing the next three coming at her.

Drew was becoming more agitated with each fighter Annabeth and Percy took down. She yelled at her Elites, yelled at the bandits, shrieking and darting behind cover when Percy threw a spear in her direction. She seemed to realise that the ambush she had planned was not coming and her bandits weren't a match for Annabeth and Percy. She screamed out something, Annabeth could not hear what, maybe an order? Then, after several more bandits fell under Annabeth's knives, she was pushed back, the remaining bandits surging together in front of her, locking their crudely kept shields together.

She paused, her leg throbbing and her panted breaths and heartbeat loud in her ears, her eyes searching for Percy. He stood on the other side of the bandit wall, breathing heavily as he took in the new formation. His cheek was bleeding and the cut on his eyebrow had split and widened. He was hunched, his arm holding his ribs protectively and he was facing the remaining Elites and Drew. Annabeth's stomach flopped and she charged forward with a yell, slicing, hacking, doing everything she could to get through.

She had underestimated Drew. Underestimated the number of bandits Drew had at her disposal. Annabeth should have been prepared for any situation, would have been, if she hadn't let her feelings cloud her mind. It was those feelings that were going to get Percy killed. Drew had waited until Annabeth and Percy were engrossed in the fight, weaving in and around the street until they stood far enough apart that they could be separated entirely. It didn't matter if the majority of the bandits were killed; Drew only needed enough to keep Annabeth preoccupied so her and the Elites could get to Percy without her interfering.

No matter how many Annabeth sliced through, more bandits took their place. She screamed in frustration as Percy tried valiantly to defend the attacks from the Elites, but he was faltering. One strike would get through his defence and he would block a few more before another would get passed, then another. He was backtracking, blood flowing freely from several wounds on his arms and legs, his face also copping a few hits.

A brutish looking bandit strode forward, grunting a laugh and tossing aside his war hammer. The Elites melted away and the bandit caught Percy's wrist as he went to strike, backhanding him. He stumbled, spitting out blood, trying to strike again and getting another punch to the chest for his troubles. Annabeth split a bandit's head open, stabbing another in the eyes as Percy's sword fell to the ground. He pulled a small knife from his boot, slashing wildly which was easily avoided by the bandit. On another wild swing, Percy's arm was grabbed and the bandit, with his free hand, punched Percy once, twice, three times in the face.

Annabeth was frantically trying to break through as a groggy Percy was dropped to the ground. He swayed on his hands and knees, trying to reach his sword. The bandit smiled toothily at Drew, who returned his smile with a smug one of her own as he picked Percy up by the scruff of his armour, hitting him hard in his chest. A wet, sucking breath escaped Percy as he was tossed to the ground. Percy managed to roll onto his back, his chest spasming as he coughed and choked.

Maybe it was the sight of the bandit grabbing the hammer, walking casually over to where Percy lay. Maybe it was the smug expression on Drew's face. Maybe it was the way the remaining Elites, her supposed brothers and sisters, just stood around and watched as Percy struggled to breathe where he fell. Annabeth could not explain how she managed it, not when she was so outnumbered, but something happened, a rage or desperation or drive she had never experienced before, settled within her. And she was unstoppable.

A red haze surrounded her vision, her target only that of reaching Percy, whatever the cost. There was no noise, save for a ringing in her ears that slowly intensified into a roar. She moved faster than she had moved, she was as swift as the wind, and her attacks were unmatched. If she was injured, she could not feel it, only persisted in her goal. She was behind the shield wall and then she was over it, taking as many who stood in her way out as she could. The bandit was a foot from Percy, getting ready to raise his weapon for the killing blow … and then he was taking a step back, too surprised to even raise it to defend himself as Annabeth flew over Percy to intercede, her knives criss-crossing over each other, causing the bandit's head to tumble from his shoulders, rolling as it hit the ground.

Annabeth landed, crouching protectively between Percy and the Elites, who moved into a defensive stance, their eyes widening in shock and fear. The remaining bandits moved in behind Annabeth, encircling her and Percy, each weapon directed at her. The red haze that bordered her vision was fading as was the ringing in her ears. She could hear her heavy breaths, Percy's ragged ones at her feet and the groans of pain from the bandits still clinging to life in her wake.

"Give it up!" Drew cried in annoyance. She was panting slightly, her face paling as she noticed the destruction caused by Annabeth. She raised a shaky sword, pointing it at her and then Percy. "You can't protect him, not now. You can't win," she snapped.

Annabeth looked down at Percy, his breaths wheezing painfully from his chest. She grimaced at the sight of his damaged and bloodied body, knowing it was her fault. She wanted to crumple down beside him, wanted to tell him she was sorry she brought him into this but most of all she wanted to take his suffering and make it hers. Let her carry his pain, so he didn't have to.

"Put him out of his misery and I will let you live," Drew coaxed, seeing how she looked at him. "I will even take you back to Luke. Tied up, of course," she added, relishing the idea.

Annabeth felt her rage spark. This was not her fault, this was Drew's. Her pathetic attempt to overhaul Annabeth at Luke's side had done this. Percy was in pain, dying, Annabeth grimaced at the thought, because of her jealousy and power-hungry obsession. She hated her. She hated that bitch and her naïve brothers and sisters that followed her blindly. They would pay, they would understand just what Annabeth could be capable of when pushed. Even if she was to die as well, she didn't care, not anymore.

"You're supposed to be some smart strategist, but this is just ridiculous," she sighed angrily when Annabeth took a deep breath, straightened and raised her knives, letting her rage fuel her adrenaline. "Get it over with," she commanded of the bandits and Elites, and then chaos erupted.

A spear flew from the darkness, landing in Drew's throat. The scene froze as Drew gurgled and drowned in her blood, falling to her knees and clawing at the spear as a familiar defiant cry came from the same direction. Clarisse charged through several bandits like a raging bull, knocking them aside and swinging a broad axe she picked up from who knew where. Chris followed along with two other men Annabeth hadn't seen before, but she was up and attacking the closest enemies to her, one of which was Paige, who was too stunned to defend herself and fell with two swift slashes to her chest.

By the time the bandits had realised the threat, they had been overpowered. The remaining few alive fled but Clarisse, Chris and one of the strangers gave chase. Annabeth returned her focus on Percy, her adrenaline spiking with her fear. She knelt at his side, her hands hovering over his body, unsure what to do and how to treat him. His eyes fluttered, or she thought they did but there was too much blood covering his face she could hardly make it out in the darkness. She went to undo the straps of his armour when she was shoved aside.

Rolling to her feet with a snarl, she pulled free her knife, facing her newest attacker. The blonde-haired man stood beside Percy, an arrow pointed at Annabeth's head, a deep scowl lining his face. She charged forward, batting away the arrow that came flying towards her, trying to drive her knife into his chest. He knocked her blow away with his bow, whipping it back to try and whack her with the other end. She arched back to avoid it, pulling free her second knife to stab his side. She was deflected again and then hauled up from behind and thrown away. With a scream, she spun and faced the new opponent, which was Chris, his hands up in front of him. She tried to get around him, but he met her again.

"Stop! Annabeth, stop!" Chris shouted at her, pushing against her chest. "You're on the same side!"

"She's an Elite," the man growled, trying to get a shot around Chris. "She's trying to finish Percy!"

"I'm saving him from you!" she screeched back. She lost a little of her determination to get past Chris, dimly remembering him charging behind Clarisse, his arrows doing most of the work to subdue the remaining bandits.

The man scoffed. "He has a better chance with me because I'm a healer," he shot back, withdrawing his bow. He continued to scowl at her. "Is this the one he was travelling with?" he asked Chris.

"Yes," Chris panted.

The man gave a curt nod, then lost interest in Annabeth entirely, crouching down beside Percy to examine him. Annabeth stopped struggling against Chris, stationing herself a little distance from Percy's feet, her eyes on his chest, willing him to keep breathing.

"We tried to get here as fast as we could," Chris explained, wiping blood from his face and hands. "But there was more than Clarisse had first scouted. She's chasing down the remaining ones with Nico." Annabeth nodded distractedly.

"We need to get him off the street," the man informed them. "Find something flat to carry him on."

"Clara is not far from here. The local physician," added Annabeth, at his raised eyebrow while Chris ran off.

Unable to find the man's request, Chis and the man resorted to carrying Percy as carefully as they could to the physician's house. Annabeth walked at Percy's side having not been given any instruction to help, nor did the man seem inclined to ask for her assistance. Clara was a little shocked when she tentatively opened the door for them, listening to the man's diagnosis as they carried Percy into a side room with a cot. Clara looked apologetically at Annabeth when she saw the room, but Annabeth didn't care, her breath sucking in with a sharp gasp when they finally removed Percy's armour and cut through his undershirt to reveal the multiple bruises forming. With the walls of the room feeling like they were closing in on her as Clara and Will circled around Percy like a protective mother, Annabeth moved towards the fire, collapsing into one of the chairs and placing her head into her hands.

She didn't move from that that position, not that she felt she could. Chris said something to her, she didn't hear him over the dull ringing in her ears. She was in shock, she registered with some surprise. Her adrenaline had faded but she was still numb, replaying the way Percy was brutally attacked. The way his head snapped back painfully with the last blow, his blood flying from his mouth and cheek from the impact. How he staggered, trying to remain on his feet, his feeble breaths as he lay, the wheezing that escaped his lips.

Annabeth was grabbed on the arm. She reacted instinctively, her mind reliving the remnants of the fight. Her other hand lashed out, capturing the wrist as she was taught to do. She brought it away, her free hand reaching for her knife, partially unsheathing it as a feminine gasp of surprise had her pausing.

"I'm just checking your injuries," Clara said, trying to sound calm and reassuring.

"You should be with Percy," Annabeth replied flatly, releasing her wrist.

"Percy's stable and resting."

"See to the others."

"I already have."

Annabeth glanced towards her, then back to the flames. "I'm not injured," she said tiredly. She grunted sharply and flinched away when Clara reached out and prodded her cheek, causing a dull ache. She glared at Clara and then sighed, knowing her irritation was misplaced. "Why help me?" she asked. "This is my fault."

"I'm not here to place blame on anyone," answered Clara. "You kept your promise and I'm thankful for that." Annabeth sighed, returning her gaze to the fire, not wanting any sort of gratitude. "Listen," said Clara kindly. "There's a bath upstairs. The water might still be warm if you wanted to clean yourself up?"

Annabeth glanced down at herself. Her armour had deep gashes, her left bracer loose from a torn strap but that was hard to distinguish from the layers of blood and dirt that coated her clothes. Her hands were stained red, and she could only imagine how much covered her face and hair. She sighed again, getting gingerly to her feet, her leg wound protesting. She limped up the stairs behind Clara, her eyes travelling to the room where Percy lay, seeing several silhouettes standing beside him.

There were only three rooms upstairs that Annabeth could see when they reached the landing. Clara led her to the small washroom in the middle. The far door closed with a small gasp when they reached the door, no doubt from the daughter Clara had been wanting to protect. The washroom barely had enough room for the tub, but Annabeth was beyond caring.

"I'll be waiting when you're finished," Clara told her, closing the door behind her.

The water was lukewarm when Annabeth finally struggled free from her armour and clothes. She slipped in, resting her head against the edge. She glanced up at the ceiling and, for the first time in her life, she had no idea what she was going to do.