Hi! So, I'm not going to lie, I really don't know that I like this chapter very much and I came very close to not posting it. However, I think it's important for Percy and Annabeth, just like in CME, to have occasional slower moments. Not everything can be monster attacks and battles, and the idea seemed cute at the time. Written out, I don't know how well it actually turned out, but I wrote the whole thing and didn't really want to just trash it after all that. So, here it is. I hope it isn't so much of a mood shift that it seems out of place with the rest of the story. If it does, I'm sorry. I hope you still enjoy reading it. And better things are coming soon!


Illness, when it comes to half-bloods, is an interesting thing. Apparently the gods never saw a need to bestow upon their children their invulnerability against germs, so we have always been susceptible to the occasional virus. Not as much as a fully mortal person, maybe, since our godly blood does seem to provide a bit more immunity than the average Joe, but we can still get sick. And when flu season came around, in the Jackson household at least, if one kid got sick, sooner or later, the other two—and maybe even the rest of us—also would. Some years, we were able to make it through unscathed, but then, some others, we weren't

Which was why when Carly came home from school one afternoon in early March with a stomachache and the beginnings of a fever, I knew we were in for it. As a preventative measure, everyone was given a small bite of Ambrosia every morning in the coming days, but nothing was perfect. Not two days later, Logan came down with it, and Nicky followed close behind him. It had been an interesting week.

For the most part, the kids were on the way back to health again now. Nicky, the last to get sick, had been the last one still left with a fever, and his had finally broken the day before. We'd all gone to bed with high hopes that the worst was over.

Those hopes were crushed a bit when I woke up, alone in bed, a few minutes before six in the morning. Across the room, the bathroom light was on, shining through the door that had not quite been closed all the way. Unfortunate noises sounded from within. Heart sinking, I kicked off the covers and sat up with a sigh.

I crossed to the bathroom door and knocked gently. "Annabeth?" I asked. Receiving no reply, I pushed it slowly open. Annabeth stood before the sink and, ignoring me completely, turned on the faucet and rinsed her mouth out. Only when she had finished, did she turn and meet my eyes.

She looked sick. Her skin was pale but for flushed cheeks, and her gray eyes were dull and slightly glassy. And if there was any doubt about how bad she felt, the unhappy set of her mouth cleared it right up. "Sorry I woke you up," she offered blandly.

I shrugged her words off and lifted the back of my hand to her clammy forehead. "There was a time when this was a regular thing," I offered lightly. She made a face. I smirked and lowered my arm. "You have a fever."

"I'm shocked." She turned, clearly far from, and grabbed her toothbrush from the holder at the edge of the sink. "You should probably go," she said, squeezing toothpaste onto it, "The last thing we need is for both of us to get sick." I shrugged and was about to inform her that, after the past week, my standing near her would really have very little effect one way or another on my health, when her alarm clock went off unnecessarily behind me. Toothbrush in mouth, she gave me what was probably supposed to be an amused look, but she looked so miserable that it didn't really work out. I sighed lightly and then left her there.

I crossed to her side of the bed and shut off the alarm. When the room was quiet once more, I turned and walked to the dresser in search of a shirt. I wasn't fond of wearing one to bed, but it was late winter in New York and I was cold now without it. Annabeth walked out of the bathroom as I pulled it on, headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" I asked, stepping after her and catching up easily.

"To wake the kids up," she answered, as if this should have been obvious, "Carly and Logan need to go to school, even if it is Friday. They've been out all week. And Nicky too as long as he's feeling okay."

"No," I said, placing a hand on her arm as she reached for the door knob, "All you need to do is get back in bed before you make yourself worse. I'll handle the kids." She made a valiant effort, but she was far too unsteady on her feet at the moment to be of much use to anyone. She still looked a little green around the edges and was obviously ready to drop, despite her best efforts. She was used to taking care of everyone and admitting defeat did not come any more naturally to her at thirty-nine than it had at sixteen.

"Percy, I'm fi—" She'd whirled around to face me as she said this and broke off now, swaying slightly as if dizzy.

"Uh huh," I said, steadying her, "I can totally see that."

Annabeth, stable again for the moment, simply shut her eyes and groaned. When she opened them again, she looked at me and asked, "Is it wrong that I kind of hate our children right now?" And I knew she knew I was right.

I gave a single laugh. "Go back to bed. Do you want to call the firm or should I? You're not working today."

She studied me weakly for a few seconds, as if debating whether it was worth arguing this point. Eventually she sighed, "I hate it when you're right," and turned toward the bed.

I managed to hide my smile until I was out of the room.

Logan was already awake when I turned down the hall. Bleary-eyed and lethargic, but awake, walking sluggishly toward the bathroom. "I'm up," he promised halfheartedly.

"Great," I told him, as amused as ever at the fact that none of my children were the tiniest bit morning people. To be fair, I hadn't been as a kid either—quests and wars notwithstanding, but adulthood had changed my ways somewhat. "I'm taking you to school today."

Logan, still half-asleep, was apparently not yet cognizant enough to care why, though he went in with Annabeth more often than not. He shrugged, "'Kay," and flipped the bathroom light on. Smirking, I continued down the hall.

"Rise and shine," I called into Nicky's room, flipping the light on from the doorway. He didn't stir. "Come on, champ, time to get up." The twelve-year old groaned and burrowed deeper into his pillow, but rolled over in compliance after a second, squinting at the sudden brightness. "Still feeling good enough to go in?" I asked, standing before him.

He thought for a second and then nodded. And he looked it. His color was better than it had been even yesterday and according to the school policy, if a student was fever-free for twenty-four hours, they could return. Nicky was a dedicated student, despite his struggles, and he didn't like falling behind. "What time is it?" he slurred, squinting at the clock beside him. It read 6:11.

Normally, he was allowed to sleep in a little longer, but with three kids in three different schools, all starting at different times, we'd need to leave earlier than normal if all of them were going to be on time. "You've got to come with me to drop Logan off before I bring you to school," I explained, "Mom's not feeling good."

He looked up now. "Did we get her sick?"

"Probably."

"But she never gets sick."

"Not often," I allowed, "But she does, sometimes. Believe it or not, she's not actually invincible." He smiled. "Get ready, okay? I have to go wake up your sister."

"Okay."

A few minutes later, all three were up and getting ready, and I made my way downstairs with the dog, let him out in the back yard, and then moved to the kitchen, where I filled a glass with water and grabbed some ibuprofen and a thermometer to bring back upstairs. Ollie was waiting to be let inside again when I finished, and, juggling the objects in my hands, I opened the door for him and turned back toward the hall. He trotted up ahead of me and followed me to the master bedroom. Annabeth was climbing back into bed when I opened the door. Judging from the looks of her, I guessed she'd been in the bathroom again.

Ollie ran in ahead of me and jumped up on the bed, settling himself down by her legs. She made no effort to kick him off. "I brought you some medicine," I said, "It might help."

"Assuming it stays down?" she replied somewhat wryly.

"Did you call in to work?" I asked.

She nodded glumly. I set the water and pills on the bedside table and handed her the thermometer. She made a face, but took it and held it to her ear. "You need to get dressed," she said. The thermometer beeped and she looked at it. Making a face, she informed me, "102."

I nodded in acknowledgment, already grabbing some clothes from the closet and turning toward the bathroom. I took a quick shower and dressed. When I came out again, Annabeth looked to be sleeping, or at least trying to. Ollie lay beside her, watching me. He made no effort to follow as I moved to leave, even after I held the door open invitingly for him and waited. Smirking, I turned away and left him to stand guard over her.


It was nearly two hours later when I finally returned home after bringing everyone where they needed to go. I heard Ollie barking from upstairs and winced a little at the fact that he'd surely woken Annabeth if she'd been sleeping. Leaving my keys on the hook by the door and shedding my coat and shoes, I made my way inside and climbed the stairs to our bedroom. Unsurprisingly, she was awake when I entered. "You're supposed to be at work," she informed me.

"Yeah," I said sardonically, "I was going to go into work today and leave you like this."

"I figured you'd say that. It's the only reason I didn't get up to see who was breaking into my house."

I smirked. "How'd you know I wasn't a monster?"

She offered a weak shrug. "I know how you work. And monsters don't typically have keys." I smiled. "For the record," she added, "You worked all last week when the kids were sick."

"That's because they were under your capable care. Who's supposed to take care of everything here if you're out of commission?"

"I've been sick before, Percy," she said, watching with some interest as I walked around to the side of the bed and climbed in next to her. Ollie stood up at the disruption, tail wagging.

"Humor me," I said, getting comfortable and pulling her toward me while the dog settled himself back down at the foot of the bed.

"You're going to get sick," she murmured halfheartedly, trying feebly to pull away.

"I ate some Ambrosia. I'll be fine."

"Yeah, 'cause that worked so well for me."

"Hey, I'm trying to be a good husband, okay? Now, let me take care of you." I paused for a few seconds and then added stubbornly, "I'm not leaving."

"Fine," she said, settling back into me, and then, turning to look at me, asked, "Are you just going to lay here with me all day?"

"Sure. I've done worse things."

She smiled. "I know you have. I've done most of them with you."

"That's probably why I'm still here."

"What do you mean, 'probably'?"

I laughed and wrapped an arm loosely around her. She felt slightly cooler than she had before. "Did you take that medicine I brought you?"

"Yeah," she answered, "I slept for a little while too, until someone decided to skip work and wake me up again."

"Sorry," I said, feeling bad now. "If I'm keeping you awake, I'll go,"

"No, it's too late. You're stuck here now."

I smirked. "I'll take the kids out tomorrow, let you get some rest."

"Let's just get through today first and see what happens," she replied, her eyes closed as she leaned against me.

"Okay," I answered softly, settling in more myself as silence fell between us.

I knew from the change in her breathing a few minutes later that she had drifted back to sleep, her head pillowed on the space between my chest and shoulder. Considering how stubborn she'd been about my staying away earlier, she sure seemed more than comfortable with the proximity now. And I was glad to provide it. Annabeth spent her days taking care of everyone, myself included, and she was incredible at it. Never did she complain or appear to grow tired of it, even with the demanding job she also juggled. She amazed me, even after all these years, with her strength and patience. It was so rare for her to be taken out like this, but even with how awful I knew she felt, I was slightly glad for it. Annabeth deserved to have herself taken care of for a change.

I lay beside her for a few more minutes, listening to her steady breathing and that of the dog at our feet. In the comfort and quiet of the empty house, it wasn't long before I drifted off myself.

I was woken up again by Annabeth, struggling feebly to readjust her position next to me. Normally a picture of utter grace, the full-body weakness and ache that came with the illness reduced her skills somewhat—still more than able, but also mildly pitiable. And I wasn't exactly the most difficult person to wake up after everything I'd been through.

I glanced over now, my head still buried in the pillow behind me, to find her reaching blindly, and without much success, for the glass of water, still mostly full, on the bedside table behind her. Without a word, I reached my free hand over and retrieved it for her. She made a face as I handed it to her, but took it otherwise without complaint. She forced down a couple small sips and then, wincing slightly, lay back down and allowed me to put it back. "Feeling any better?" I asked, relaxing back down myself.

She gave a small shake of her head. "Worse, if anything," she murmured unhappily and then looked at me, "What time is it?"

I glanced behind her at the alarm clock. "A little after ten."

With closed eyed, she sighed and offered an unimpressive nod. "You really don't have to stay here, you know."

I brushed a stray curl from her forehead. ""What other excuse would I have to stay in bed all day? The only way I'm leaving before the kids need picking up is if you kick me out," I informed her, and then added, "You stayed with me that time. I'm finally returning the favor."

She opened one eye just enough to peak up at me. "Are you talking about that time back in college?"

I gave a nod she didn't see. "I was sick for, like, four days and you spent every minute you weren't in class there with me."

Her eyes were closed again, but her lips twitched the tiniest bit, like she was fighting a smile. "That's because you're a typical man and turn into an invalid the second you come down with a runny nose," she murmured, curling into my side again, "Which is surprising, considering everything you've actually been through."

"That's not—"

"Yes, it is."

I pursed my lips and stared down at her for a second. I didn't want to argue with her in this state. That didn't mean I agreed. "Well, we can't all be as amazing as you."

She gave a tiny smile. "Stop talking, Seaweed Brain," she mumbled, "Trying to sleep."

Smirking, I settled back into the pillows myself. It would be a long day, but I could think of no one better to spend it with.


Thank you for reading.