Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.

Rating: T for dark themes and violence

Author's Note: Short chapter today, but the next chapter is a Percy POV! I'll try and get that one up on Wednesday if I can

Chapter 18

When Annabeth wakes up in the early morning hours, thunder rumbles through the air and rain pounds at her window. She smiles lazily and rolls over, enjoying the sound of the storm from the warmth and safety of her bed.

She drifts off to sleep briefly, and in her dreaming state she sees Sciron raising his guns to the sky, a triumphant smile on his face. He pulls the triggers, and a particularly loud blast of thunder causes Annabeth's eyes to shoot open.

Her smile drops and she throws herself out of bed, pulling her housecoat over her shoulders and sliding on her slippers before sprinting down the stairs and out the door. She ignores the servant that blearily peers out of the corridor, obviously awoken by the sound of pattering footsteps against the creaky staircase.

Annabeth runs to the stables, ignoring the mud squishing into her shoes and the rain drenching her almost instantly. She grabs a halter and harnesses the fastest horse. All the horses are skittish, tossing their heads and pawing the ground, but Annabeth can't wait for them to calm down.

She pulls herself onto the horse's back and digs her bare heels into his side. The stallion tears out of the stables, running as if his life depends on it. Annabeth can barely hold on and she regrets not taking the time to saddle him, but they're already tearing down the road at a full gallop.

They reach Luke's manor in a matter of minutes. Annabeth quickly leads the horse to an empty stall and grabs him some food and water, apologizing for her haste and promising to give him a proper wipe down before running back out into the storm.

She sprints across the mushy lawn, losing one of her slippers in the process, but she doesn't stop. She runs until she reaches the rocky beach. Dark gray waves pound against the rocks and wind whips Annabeth's robes and hair around wildly.

No, she thinks, standing in the middle of the inferno. No.

In her mind, only two things could create a storm of this severity: Poseidon's wrath, or power of the pearl.

There's only one logical reason for why Poseidon could be this angry. It's a thought Annabeth can't voice, not even in her own mind, although deep down she knows it. As for the pearl, there's only one person who was searching for it who meant to use its power for himself.

Annabeth remembers a nightmare she had where she went raging after Sciron, demanding that he tell her what he did with Percy. His words still ring out in her mind, as loud and clear as if he had said them in the flesh: "It's your fault he's gone, you line of the prophecy. The betrayal of one may be the end. He's been turned on before, manipulated, and used as a pawn. It's part of being a demigod. But nothing was worse to him than your betrayal. It utterly destroyed him. I didn't even have to do anything!"

"No," Annabeth whispers aloud, the words carried away by the wind. She closes her eyes, trying to will away the tide of tears that rages against her eyelids. "It can't be."

"Annabeth!"

She hears her name being shouted in the distance, but she can't answer. She can't even find the strength to open her eyes. She's surprised that Poseidon doesn't send a wave to wash over the ground she's standing on and carry her away with it to drown.

"Annabeth!"

The voice is closer now, right behind her. It belongs to yet another person she's wronged, even if he doesn't know it yet. Poor Luke; if he thinks this storm is bad, he has no idea what's about to blow his way.

"Annabeth! What are you doing out here?" Luke takes her arm gently and turns her towards himself. He puts his back to the wind, sheltering her as best as he can. "It's the middle of the night and there's a terrible storm! Why are you outside?"

"I have to go back," she cries. "This is all my fault."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"The storm! The sea!" Annabeth waves her arms. "It's all my fault. I have to go back."

Luke rubs his hands along her arms gently. "You're talking like a crazy person. How is this your fault?"

Annabeth shakes her head. She can't explain it to him. He doesn't know the world she spent the last few months in. He doesn't know how everything's connected, how a single mortal can be responsible for the destruction of a country.

Annabeth is Cassiopeia, the prideful queen who demanded too much and now everything and everyone around her is being punished. She refuses to let anyone be her Andromeda. She'll sacrifice herself instead.

"I have to go back," she repeats, clutching onto his arms and staring into his eyes, willing him to understand on a deeper level. "Please."

Luke's eyes fill with tears. "I just got you back," he cries. "You want to leave me again?"

Annabeth isn't sure which is worse: Percy ignoring her after she broke his heart, or Luke on the verge of tears. Both are terrible in their own way.

"I have to," she says, her voice barely audible over the wind. "It's the only way to make things right."

"Explain it to me." His hands tighten like vises around her arms. "I need to understand."

You could never understand, she wishes she could scream, but it would only make him want to know more. Luke isn't the kind of person to accept vague answers like that.

"I love you," she sobs. "I do. I always have."

"And I love you, too." His brows furrow together, as if he's starting to connect the dots.

"But I can't stay. I can't marry you." She swallows past the gulp in her throat. The space around them seems to slow down, like they're caught in the eye of the hurricane. After the deafening volume of the storm, everything sounds twice as loud. "I fell in love with someone else. And I may have killed him. I have to go back. I have to see - I have to make things right."

Luke stares at her in shock. The pain hasn't set in yet - he's still processing it all.

"Stay," he begs. "We can work through this. I'll be more patient. I'll - I'll try harder to understand what you went through and how you've changed. Please, just give me a chance Annabeth."

She shakes her head, the tears streaming down her face. Or is it the rain? She can't tell anymore.

"I know I was a complete jerk on the way back, but Annabeth, I love you. This hasn't been easy for me either, and I know we have a long way to go, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes for us to stay together. I crossed an ocean to find you, Annabeth!"

"I know." She can't look him in the eyes anymore. She can't bear to see the light dying in them - light that she killed. "I don't deserve you, Luke. And you don't deserve me, either. We've both changed since we were children. We don't want the same things we used to want."

"I still want you." He clutches onto her like they're in the middle of the ocean and she's the last raft.

"Part of me still wants you, too. But if I don't go back, I'll never be at peace. I'll never have closure. I'll always be haunted. I can't live like that."

"You can't live like that, or you can't live with me?"

Annabeth digs into the pocket of her robe, where she'd shoved her knife. She pulls it out and holds it in the flat of her palm between them. "Do you remember when you gave me this?"

Luke nods once.

"It was right before you left for war. You promised me that you'd always do right by me, but that you wanted me to be able to protect myself while you were gone. You said that if you didn't return, you wanted me to move on and be happy."

In the moonlight, Luke's scar shines. Annabeth takes a deep breath and tries to level her tone.

"Here. I'm making the same promise to you now. This time I'm the one leaving, but I know I'm not coming back. Whatever happens...this place holds nothing for me anymore. I've seen horrors you could never imagine. I've seen wonders you could never dream of. I've done things you couldn't fathom. There's no future for me here anymore, but there is for you. I want you to be happy, Luke. I truly do. But it won't be with me."

Luke stares at the knife for a long time. Then he folds her fingers over the top of it, holding onto her hand around it.

"Keep it," he says, his voice hoarse. "One reminder of me. Of us."

They stand there for a long time, bonded together by a promise kept and a promise returned. The storm rages around them as their own storm rages inside each of them.

When Luke finally steps back, there's something hard and cold beneath his blue eyes.

"Where do you need to go?"

"This ship goes all the way to Málaga. From there the captain knows a ship that goes to Sicily."

Luke and Annabeth stand awkwardly by the docks as the pink sunrise washes over them. Annabeth is once again dressed in her pirate clothes, which she hadn't had the heart to throw away. Maybe, subconsciously, she always knew that this is where her path would lead.

"Thank you, Luke. I'll never forget this."

The raging storm had faded almost as soon as Annabeth and Luke had come to an agreement. The stillness and quiet that follows isn't like the world returning to normal after a cycle; rather, it feels like the calm before a storm, or the eye of the hurricane. It's the sea monster pausing its attack on the kingdom because it knows the Princess Andromeda is being led to the altar.

Annabeth has her hair pulled up and piled in her hat. She'll pass as a man, not wanting to deal with the sexism that she faced on her last voyage. And, truth be told, she doesn't want anyone recognizing her as she sails off for the last time. It's bad enough that she abandoned her family and broke off her engagement; she doesn't need her family to suffer under any more rumors about her running back off to join the hated pirates.

"Are you sure this is what will make you happy?" Luke asks, reaching out for her hand. She lets him take it.

"I'm not sure," she confesses. "But I know that nothing here can, so I'm willing to risk it all for at least a chance."

He presses his lips together and nods tightly. Then he unbuckles his sheath and holds Percy's sword out towards her.

"Take it," he says. "It was never truly mine to own. A man's - or a woman's - weapon is a part of him."

Annabeth takes it carefully, not because she thinks the sword is delicate but because it's so precious. This is part of Percy. This is part of the man who may no longer be.

"You're going back to him, aren't you?"

She doesn't look him in the eyes. "If he'll have me back, yes."

"But he's a bloody pirate."

No. He's a hero. She wishes Luke could understand, but he never will. If she tried to explain, he'd think her crazy - crazier than he already considers her. And she knows that defending Percy like that will just hurt him more. After all, she had once called him a hero, when he returned from war.

"The world is so much different than we ever imagined," she says instead. "It's not black and white. It's not lawful citizen and pirate."

"If you're caught, you'll be hanged."

She almost wants to laugh - being caught by mortals is the least of their worries. Once again, that's something Luke could never understand.

"We won't get caught."

"He doesn't even have a ship anymore."

"He has connections."

"You don't even know if he's alive. Sciron - you should have heard the way that man talked. He was a complete lunatic. And he hated Percy. He wanted him dead more than anything else."

"Percy isn't the only person I care about on that ship." Annabeth thinks of Will, who had become her best friend, and Frank and Beckendorf, who'd she'd learned to rely on. Not to mention all the people she met in New Rome.

"I've made my choice, Luke. I know you don't understand, but you have to trust me."

"It's not you that I don't trust." He takes a step back, the chasm between them widening. One more step, and there's no going back.

"Goodbye, Luke." Her hand slides out of his as she takes that last, defining step. She turns away and walks up the gangplank onto the ship, clutching Riptide tightly in her hands.

She has no idea what awaits her in Sicily. She has no idea if Percy is even alive. She has no idea where the crew went after they were sent ashore. She has no idea if Sciron has the pearl.

All she knows is that she has to go back.

Will was right when he told her that she chose the world of magic and monsters the day she stepped aboard Percy's ship. Maybe that wasn't Percy's intention, but intentions hardly matter. Truth is, Annabeth decided to run off with a pirate she had just met, and that was her choice.

Annabeth stands at the front of the ship. Around her, the sailors are just finishing up their duties. Before the sun is completely risen they'll be off, and Annabeth will once again be leaving her past behind.

This time she's not scared. This time she's not being dragged away, kicking and screaming. Even though she doesn't know what she'll face, she does know that it's her destiny.

Whatever happens, she'll stand up and face it.