Blank.

"It was so quiet; you could hear a pun drop."

~Arthur Baer

Staring into the vast blackness, Percy couldn't help but think the Underworld had really let itself go since the last time he had visited. Before, it had been a barren, featureless, dreary wasteland that could suck the joy out of even the most positive people. Now, though, it was just featureless. There was nothing. Zip. Nada. Zilch. Just blackness; an emo's paradise. Nico would have loved it.

He took an experimental step forward, but he felt neither the movement, nor the contact where foot touches ground. He felt whole, but he sort of…didn't. The sensation was indescribable. The sensation of not having any sense. Like being weightless, sort of, but with his senses deprived of all input, there was no way of knowing for sure. Plus, he had never been weightless.

He felt no heat, or coldness through his skin. There was no wind, no taste in his mouth, no sounds, and there definitely wasn't any smell. He wondered if it was normal, if it was what all people felt after they had moved on, completely numb.

Moved on. Death. Percy hadn't died before, but surely it wasn't normal to be floating in an endless void of blackness. This isn't the underworld, he decided. It was even more depressing than the realm of Hades, who wasn't exactly a bucket of laughs.

He tried calling out to the nothingness. "Hello!" he shouted, and surprisingly, he heard the word come out. It was very faint, as if his mouth was at one end of a football field, and his ears at the other.

"Perseus Jackson," 3 voices, all in sync, sounded from the depths of oblivion. He was sure he jumped at the sudden intrusion of his solitude. If he had retained the feelings in his arms and torso, he would've felt himself jumping a foot into the air, he was sure. He 'whisked' his head around towards the voice.

At first, there was nothing, just as there was before. Then, 'in front' of him appeared the outline of three figures, gradually materialising into existence. Their appearance was unexpected but not surprising. Living in a demigod world tended to put a dampen on surprises.

They were uglier than the four gates of hell. Exposed flesh was heavily burnt, and peeling off in most areas. Crooked noses, and eyes sunk deep within their sockets 'adorned' their faces, while stringy, dirt ridden hair, matted with cobwebs and who know's what else, matted their wrinkly heads. The first carried a spindle, the second a staff, and the third, a pair of shears. Percy instantly knew he was 'looking' at the fates.

They were smirking in his direction, probably amused at how much of a joke they had made his life. He wanted to be angry with them, he wanted to stand up and chastise them for all the heartache they had caused him. But he couldn't. There were countless people who had worse fates than he had, and what was one mortal to them? They obviously had no regard for life, or else they wouldn't have made it so cruel to begin with.

"I guess I have you three to thank for my being here," he said, the absence of sound, other than their voices, deafening beyond measure. There was not even a ringing in the inner ear, though that might be a false claim, since he couldn't actually feel his ears.

"Your being no longer exists, Perseus Jackson. You are in the void. We speak to you through our minds, and you see us through yours," they corrected in unison, as if reading his thoughts, and in all likelihood, were doing just that.

"My being no longer exists?" he replied, deciding to forgo his instinctual correction of his name, whilst simultaneously retracting his previous thought. Being told you no longer existed definitely was weird.

"Only your thoughts, and thinking power remain, forever alone in the void, a place outside time and space itself," they confirmed.

"Well, if I'm 'forever alone' in…wherever the hell this is, why are you here? Don't your presences here sort of contradict the 'alone' part?" he sassed, mentally glad he had retained his signature sarcastic nature, even after departure.

They didn't reply. Instead, the first rolled out a relatively short length of string, and held it up for Percy to 'see'.

"Your string was never cut, Perseus Jackson," they said. "You do not belong here. This was not your fate."

"You mean, I wasn't meant to die? I was taken before my time, so to speak?"

"That is what we just said," they mocked. Apparently the Fates were capable of humour, devoid of any emotion though it was.

"But, why are you here, then? Surely you haven't come here just to tell me I wasn't meant to die?" he questioned, slightly afraid they would answer with a 'yes' and then disappear in a cloud of smoke.

"With your untimely death, the balance of the world has been disrupted. We will send you back to your mortal world, mind and body restored, so that order my resume."

"I can go back, just like that? No, if's or but's?"

"This is not a favour, Perseus Jackson. We are merely doing our duty. Now, do you wish to go back, or should we leave you here for all of time?" they said, sounding utterly bored, though maybe it was because they seemed incapable of feeling anything. Besides, Percy didn't exactly feel like anything much in the grand scheme of things, but maybe that was because he had depth perception.

"Send me back," he answered without hesitation, before everything turned black again, this time, his consciousness included.

Fittingly, Percy woke up on a beach, half his face stuck to the wet sand, with the feeling of cool seawater gliding over the lower half of his body. Feeling. He could feel again! He had barely noticed it during his time in…wherever he was, but the absence of touch, the absence of temperature…He would never take them for granted again.

He smiled into the sand, gripping handfuls with his fingers and enjoying the warmth on his back from the sun. Several birds in the tree's nearby chirped blissfully, while a sweet breeze hung in the midday air.

Tentatively, he opened his eyes, only to instantly recoil in discomfort at the glaring brightness the giant ball of burning gas brought forth. A chuckle escaped his lips, despite the irritation. 'Blinded by light' certainly beat 'blinded by darkness'.

Gingerly, he blinked several times in rapid succession, gradually becoming accustomed to the dazzling blue sky, and radiant sunlight. Somewhat reluctantly, he forced himself to his feet, knowing full well he could have laid there for hours in utter serenity.

He brought his hands to his face, staring at them, before peering down at his chest and legs. Their absence unnoticed in the void, yet here he was, whole once more, and Gods, it felt good. He couldn't wait to see Annabeth's face. Annabeth. At her recollection, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he went completely limp, collapsing in the sand as waves of raw emotion assaulted his mind.

He laid there, half in the water, half out, twitching every so often, as love, anger, happiness, betrayal, joy, and hurt attacked all at once. He had not thought about her once in the void. His emotions had been completely numbed, and he only now realised it. If what the fates had said was true, he could have floated there forever, feeling nothing, alone with his persona. A fate worse than death itself.

Tears escaped the Hero of Olympus's eyes. First of sadness; he had left Annabeth, and even if it was to save her life, he knew full well what his death would have done to her. His tears of sorrow quickly turned into tears of joy, however. He was back. He could be with Annabeth again, and this time, nothing was going to stop him. A hero who dies to save his love, and is then resurrected, was surely the making of a happy ending.

First things first, though, he would have to find out where he was and rejoin the fight against Gaia. It couldn't have been more than several hours since he died, as black as that sounded in his mind. Jumping to his feet, with his heart beating with fiery determination, he gave the surrounding area a quick 360. It was picturesque, and familiar. Very similar to the beach at Camp-Halfblood, in fact, but it wasn't as wide, and there was a distinct lack of energy about the place. It was just a normal beach, not the place that held many of his most clear-cut memories.

The sea was, in contrast, quite rough and unsettled, contrary to the lack of clouds and high winds. Something had ruffled Poseidon's feathers, or rather, scales. Still, the gentle breeze filled his nostrils with that familiar salty sea scent that seemed to rejuvenate him almost as much as seawater itself did. He closed his eyes and breathed it in, before exhaling theatrically. Indeed, it was a pleasant day to give a girlfriend a heart attack.

The Son of Poseidon opened his eyes, feeling refreshed and alert, ready to begin his search, silently praying it would be a short one. He turned around, and was ready to make his way along the beach, hopefully finding civilisation in the process, but movement in his peripheral vision caused him to freeze mid-stride, his ears alert for any noises out of the ordinary.

Snap.

At the noise, Percy instantly dove to his right, his fingers making a break for Riptide, which sat snug in his pocket, as per the norm. He clicked the cap mid-roll, and by the time he was back on his feet again, the sword had extended to its full length, the bronze blade reflecting rays of sunlight. He turned towards the noise, and there, on the small ridge that marked the start of the beach, stood a boy, only slightly younger than he was, staring wide eyed.

Percy froze under the boy's gaze for a few seconds, before realising that he had just pulled his sword out in front of a mortal, who was probably wondering why there was a teen on an empty beach carrying just a tennis racket with no balls or net nearby. In retrospect, it wasn't the weirdest thing he could think of, but the mortal didn't know that, so he quickly capped the pen, though he didn't put it back in his pocket out of fear the 5'3" Elijah Wood lookalike with dull green eyes would suddenly morph into a 7'3" brute with biceps the size of Baltimore, and a single eye planted on his forehead. It had happened.

Sensing they could stay there for hours without saying anything, Percy decided to take the earnest. At least now he could find it where he was.

"You speak English?" he asked, as if he hadn't just performed a perfect combat roll, whilst holding a sharpened, bronze sword.

His words seemed to break the younger kid out of his surprised stupor, and with a slight shake of the head, he replied in perfect English, with an accent characteristic of someone who had grown up in Percy's home city, New York.

"Um…yeah?" the kid frowned.

In truth, the unmistakable sound of a New Yorker caught Percy off guard a little. The kid had a Mediterranean complexion, not unlike his own, so he assumed he was still on the other side of the Atlantic, thus expecting something along the lines of 'No speak me English' in response.

"You're American? Perhaps you can tell me where I am?"

"Long Island, New York," came the reply, which perplexed Percy further. This wasn't the Long Island he remembered.

"Long Island! Are you sure?" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, there's a sign up the road and everything," the kid sassed, though Percy could tell he was telling the truth. There definitely was a sign on the road that lead to the strawberry fields. He turned his head so that he faced down the beach. The reasoning behind returning him to America and not where he had died plagued his mind, but not more so than the question of how he was going to get to Greece before August the 1st.

"How in Hades did I get here? I've got to get to camp and talk to Chiron…" he asked himself, though apparently, the kid heard him.

"You go to Camp Half-blood?" he questioned, confusion laced in his voice. Percy instantly whirled around to face him.

"You know of it?"

"Know of it? We're in it! Did you hit your head or something?"

Percy smiled at the kid's slip up, and clicked Riptide's cap, pointing at 'shorty' who raised his hands in surrender."Nice try, kid, but I've been to camp every summer since I was 12, and this certainly isn't Fireworks Beach. Now, who are you?"

The kid backed away, while Percy inched forward. "Woah! I'm telling the truth! I'll bring Chiron here, if you don't believe me."

Usually, a monster wasn't one to plead their case, which made Percy hesitate briefly. On the other hand, monsters were, while dumb, cunning and always finding new ways of luring demi-gods to their death, so he kept up the precedent. "You're not going anywhere, kid. How do I know you won't just run off and alert your monster buddies?"

The kid looked slightly offended. "Do I look like a monster to you?" he snarked.

The kid had a point, but the mist was a powerful entity, his 5 years in the demi-god world playing witness to that fact. "If the mist can pass an 8 inch tall Chihuahua off as the Chimera, then I'm certain it can hide a small teenage kid for a short while."

It took the kid a moment to understand the joke, much to Percy's amusement. "Hey! I'm just a late bloomer… What if I swear on the Styx to come back, would that make you feel better, O' tall one?"

"Immensely," he smiled, and to his relief, and slight under-handed disappointment, the kid took the oath.

"Fine. I swear on the Styx to bring Chiron back to this beach within 5 minutes," the kid pledged. Thunder crackled in the distance, binding the oath, and Percy immediately lowered his sword, relenting that the kid probably was telling the truth.

"Hurry back. There's a war on, you know."

The kid looked at him funny, as if he had no idea what Percy was talking about, teasing or not, before promptly turning on his heel and sprint off inland. The son of Poseidon started to count to 300 in his head, but the inconsistent world he found himself in was nothing short of troubling. There was no way he was in camp.

True to his word, the kid returned within the 5 minute deadline. He sort of had to, lest he die in the worst, most horrible way imaginable, though Percy often wondered if the oath was just an elaborate bluff conjured by the Fates in order to keep the Gods in line. Sort of like the stories parents would tell in order to deter children from misbehaving.

Chiron appeared on the beach boundary first, closely followed by the short kid, and then a large crowd of campers gradually gathered beside the activities director, all of whom stared down at him. Percy gave the crowd a once over, but saw no one he recognised. Camp sure has grown whilst I've been away… he thought.

The centaur, meanwhile, stared at him from the perch, wide eyed and tears forming.

"You…you should be dead," he stated, echoing the first words he had said to Jason upon his arrival at camp.

"You know me, Chiron. Death never was one to keep me down. Now, I need help getting to Greece. There's still a war to be won, and I believe revenge is in order," he mused, oblivious to the mutterings and murmurs that consequently went up amongst the demi-god crowd.

Chiron raised his arm, all talk grounding to a halt, and in a hesitant, pained voice, said 8 words that turned Percy's life upside down…again.

"Percy…the Second Giant War ended fifteen years ago…"