A/N: Wanted to write something angsty and tragic for once. Oh, and also written for the people who said my AUs don't count as PJO fanfiction or that I don't have range, which is fair. Enjoy!

Percy was never been afraid of his own death. Now eighty years old and waiting for the bus, he easily recalled the memory of seeing three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs and knitting giant socks in electric blue yarn. The sound of sharp metal scissors snipping a single strand of yarn was still audible and clear across the busy highway after all these decades.

It seemed so long ago back when he was on that bus with Grover, heading home from Yancy Academy. Percy felt the corner of his lips tug in a sardonic smile. Grover had been so freaked out that the snipping of yarn signified Percy's death.

"Not again…" Grover had muttered.

Four years had passed until Percy realized that the snip of the yarn signified another hero's death. Had Percy made the wrong choice of not giving Luke Annabeth's knife, then the yarn snip would be Percy's own death, and the mortal world would have been vanquished, overcome by the Titans.

But Percy had lived.

The less than one second vision from the Fates saw him turn twenty, then middle-aged, and then old and withered before being lowered into a grave in a coffin containing his battered bones.

So it was determined. Percy would die of old age.

Perhaps it was because of this vision of his future that Percy was never fully afraid in battles or deadly situations such as falling into Tartarus. Because he already knew he would somehow make it back alive with all four limbs attached. With Annabeth and his friends by his side, Percy would make it through okay. He had no fear of throwing himself in front of others to protect his family and friends.

The MUNI bus in San Francisco had arrived. Percy broke out of his thoughts and pushed himself up from the bus stop bench with the help of his bench as he made his way onto the bus. Most of the seats were occupied but a nice young lady stood up from her front bus seat and offered him a seat.

Percy smiled at her and let his weary legs take refuge. The bus soon shuttled down the hills of San Francisco to Pier 39.

"I can't wait to see the sea lions at the docks!" A child on the bus squealed.

Sea lions. Percy recalled back in the olden days when he had to capture Nereus to ask for Artemis' location. He had been so angry when Annabeth was kidnapped. At least he knew she was alive back then from his dreams. Perhaps Nereus, that old evil twin lookalike to Santa Claus, was still hanging around the docks where the sea lions lay sunning themselves.

The bus soon passed by Ghirardelli Square. A long line of people could be seen formed outside the restaurant. Annabeth and he had come here a couple of weekends when they attended college at New Rome. On one of their more memorable dates, they had to wrangle a few gryphons who had become addicted to the chocolate sauce found at the restaurant.

The Ghirardelli restaurant manager was a demigod descendant and a relative of Silena Beauregard, whose father owned a chocolate store. On the day of Annabeth's and Percy's wedding, the restaurant manager delivered miniature chocolate gryphons to decorate their wedding cake. And whenever Annabeth and Percy brought their son to visit, the restaurant manager would always spoil them with delicious chocolate squares on the house.

Percy looked down at his hands, now wrinkled and dotted with sun spots. When his hands were a lot less wrinkled, they had embraced the hands of his wife and son. The first time Percy carried his black haired son in his arms, his son's tiny fingers had tried to clutch at Percy's much larger thumb. When his son opened his eyes, they were a beautiful gray, just the right shade and shape of his mother's. An overwhelming burst of emotion had filled Percy's chest then. He was responsible for creating such a tiny being, so defenseless and precious in this harsh world of gods and monsters.

Suddenly, everything in the world seemed dangerous, from the corners of tables to paperclips dropped innocently on the ground posing as choking hazards.

Percy was never afraid of his own death, but he was afraid that his son would be affected. Perhaps with not being a direct half-blood, his son would not attract as many monsters as Percy or Annabeth had experienced in their childhoods. Certainly, much of his son's childhood had been much happier than when Percy was under the thumb of his stepfather, Gabe Ugliano.

There were always other aunts and uncles, from a still teenage looking Thalia teaching his son how to hold a hunting knife at a young age of four (Annabeth was not amused), Frank teaching his son archery (no luck there, Percy's descendants were doomed to have no talent for the bow and arrow) to Leo gifting his son fart bombs (to which his son promptly used to give the local playground bully with the reputation of persistent foul-smelling flatulence). His son was blessed with the powers of Poseidon and the intelligence of Athena.

Annabeth and Percy watched their son grow up from a diaper wearing baby to taking his first steps and then his first breath underwater.

"Daddy!" His son loved to squeal as his little feet scampered towards him.

Percy would grab his son and swing the toddler around and around until his son was bursting with laughter. Annabeth would come and wrap her arms around Percy's waist, a warm smile on her face. They were the picture of a happy family.

Percy had always thought that this would be how they would remain until he passed away of old age.

The bus hit Percy's stop, and he stumbled off. He shivered, despite the weather being slightly balmy for the unusual San Francisco weather. He clutched at his throat at his old Camp Half-Blood necklace, now containing Annabeth's beads and wedding ring.

"Dad, where did you go?" His son, now middle-aged himself, was at the bus stop to greet him.

"I just wanted to take a little stroll around the city. Hey there, squirt." Percy chuckled as his youngest granddaughter ran up and clambered at his knees.

"Careful there, Annie! You might make your grandfather fall." His daughter-in-law chastised Annie gently.

"Then Annie would get grounded." The older grandson stuck his tongue out at his younger sister, his green eyes twinkling in mischief.

"Shut up, peabrain!"

"Peas don't have brains!"

Percy smiled at his family. Trust his son to fall in love with a daughter of Hermes, though his grandson seemed to have inherited all the mischief that came with being a descendant of the god of mischief and trickery.

Together, the five walked into the cemetery where Annabeth Jackson née Chase was laid to rest overlooking the San Francisco bay.

"Daddy?" His son whimpered. "Mommy's not waking up. Mommy! Mommy!" His then seven years old son burst out in tears trying to shake Annabeth awake.

Percy could only feel his world collapsing, his heart falling to the depths of Tartarus. He had thought with the end of the Second Giant War, life would be safe. That he would not have to deal with another damn prophecy ever again.

But his enemies ran deep, their curses amounting to the surface of the mortal world again. It was as though Akhlys herself had cursed the heroes, with the full force of Tartarus and its monsters and Titans trapped below. Taking advantage of when Percy was off on a work trip and away from his family, monsters overwhelmed each parent separately.

By the time Percy made it back home after taking out a horde of monsters, his beloved son was clutching a silver hunting knife. Piles of monster dust were nearby.

Annabeth was in full battle mode, a sword of drakon bone darting in and out of empousai, lycanthrope, and various monsters. But she was no longer in her teenage years, the prime of strength and youth. Neither Percy and Annabeth had the advantage of being able to continuously train and exercise their skills like they had back at Camp Half-Blood.

Protecting their young son was the main priority. A manticore (was that Dr. Thorn?) took the opportunity of Annabeth fighting off a lycanthrope with her ineffective bone sword and jumped forward and swiped with his spiky scorpion tail. Annabeth turned her head and saw the manticore aiming for her son and threw herself forward. The force of the tail smashed Annabeth aside into the walls of their house.

Percy screamed in anger and rushed forward in time to stop Dr. Thorn from killing their son. He saw nothing but red, not caring when an empousai scratched his arm and the wound felt like licks of intense fire. His bronze sword merely flashed and the empousai burst into dust.

When it was all over, there was nothing but dust and weapons by a half-ruined house. His son stood shaking, the hunting knife covered in dust as he had defended himself against an apparent monster.

Both of them rushed to his wife's side. Percy's hands trembled as he tried to pour nectar into Annabeth's mouth. But no matter how much he wished to be a son of Apollo then, he knew it was too late. Those beautiful gray eyes never opened again.

Percy wanted to give up right then and there. Was life worth living? But how could he? His son was still young, the only reminder of his beloved Annabeth.

"It was my fault, Daddy," his son bawled.

"No, don't you ever say that," Percy said, harshly.

For he knew that he would have done the same and sacrificed himself for his son. Never would he want his son to think that his mother's death was his own fault. If anything, Percy blamed himself for not being able to arrive at the house in time.

He should have known. That day when the Fates showed him the future as an old, withered man, he had been alone. An older Annabeth had not been there in that future.

Sometimes, he felt like he went through the rest of his life in a blur. He never remarried, raising his only son with the help of his mother and stepfather. Estelle was a great aunt to his son, taking on the role of mother. Grover and his satyr and tree nymph friends were fiercely protective of their young charge when it was babysitting time.

Before he knew it, Percy felt himself whiz through life's biggest landmarks. Only Annabeth was no longer at his side.

It was only a few months later that Percy was sitting in a rocking chair by the porch. He sensed that he wasn't alone.

"It's been a long time, Thanatos."

Percy turned his wearily and smiled at the newcomer. Thanatos was exactly how he remembered when they first met on Hubbard Glacier in Alaska. Still handsome and dark skin the shade of teakwood, with midnight black hair billowing over his shoulders. Thanatos' honey gold eyes were devoid of emotion. After all, death took no sides. But for this exception, Thanatos personally led Percy down to the Underworld to a waiting Charon.

"Heh, long time no see. Can you ask the lord if he could give me a raise? Inflation is crazy, and well, a drachma doesn't go as far as it does anymore," Charon complained.

Percy waved Charon goodbye as he stepped off the boat.

"Uncle," Percy greeted Hades.

Hades snorted. "I'm not sure I like being called 'Uncle' by someone who looks like you. But I suppose you looking this shriveled up only meant you had a good long life."

Percy only smiled. A good long life? Perhaps.

For demigods to live to the ripe old age that he had was unprecedented. Frank's life had burned up two decades earlier. Hazel had then fallen to a broken heart syndrome. Jason had long passed away in his teens and was probably reborn by now. The number of his friends who had passed away was greater than those still alive.

Living to a ripe old age was both a blessing and a curse as a demigod.

Percy didn't even need to wonder about the judges' judgment as he glided swiftly to Elysium. Would she be there?

The streets were full of happy people in different eras, the smell of barbecue fresh in the air. Some residents of Elysium looked at him and smiled. Others simply nodded and went by their business.

Then Percy spotted her running towards him. She looked just like when he had left her before his work trip. Her laugh lines were in full force as Annabeth beamed. Those gray eyes were misting in tears.

"I see you haven't figured out how to change your appearance," Annabeth teased.

For a brief moment, Percy felt self-conscious. He was an elderly grandfather now. Would Annabeth still like him in this frail appearance?

Annabeth laughed. His emotions were easy to read on his face. As she took his hand, he felt the warmth he had not experienced for so many years. Strength returned to his body, ripping like high tide waves. Suddenly, he and Annabeth were in their mid-twenties again.

"I missed you," Percy blurted out. "I missed you so, so much, Wise Girl."

Annabeth's eyes softened as she pulled him in for a kiss. A cool wetness streamed down his cheeks as he held her close to him. And even when the kiss was finished, he couldn't bear to let her go, not for a single moment. He didn't know how Annabeth could bear it when he went missing for a year because every year in the mortal world was like knives in his heart without her.

Finally, Annabeth broke their hug apart, although she refused to let go of his hand.

"I missed you so much, too. Come on, Seaweed Brain. There's some people who've been waiting for you."

Percy was never afraid of his own death, but he was afraid of what his life would be like without his loved ones.