Hey guys! New part of the story, right here. Sorry it might be a little choppy. I haven't had a lit of time to write and even less to edit, but I promise the next ones will be better!

Hope you guys enjoy! Read and review!

Annabeth clenched her fingers together so hard they hurt. The bumpy road rocked the carriage from side to side, the wind ruffling her curls under her mob cap. Her father, sitting next to her, made small talk about the patient they would be visiting, but Annabeth was too nervous to be listening.

This was her first real assignment from Benjamin Franklin and the rest of the Patriots – the group, she had learned, was called the Observers, and they met in shops around the city under the cover of darkness.

Her foot touched the floor of the carriage, and she cringed, knowing there were illegal newspapers underneath printed by ardent Whigs around the city, to distribute beyond the Neck.

They were on the Neck, now – it was the only way out of Boston besides a ship, and ever since the Boston Tea Party the harbor had been closed by the British Navy. Annabeth laughed bitterly. All the Tories were saying the King was just, and yet here he was punishing an entire city for the crimes of a few hundred. It was completely unfair.

Although Annabeth hadn't agreed with the Boston Tea Party when it happened – basically a couple hundred men and boys stealing and damaging the property of the East India Company – she, along with many others, had been indignant when the King closed the harbor down. Hundreds of men, Luke included, who had worked along the wharf were immediately out of a job, and more work losses followed – tailors and dressmakers were out, since no one had the money to buy their services anymore, and shops also began to close since they no longer had the wares to sell.

Thankfully, her father had been able to keep his little mercantile going because of his work at an apothecary down the street. Between the two jobs, the Chase family had been well-provided for. Because they were one of the only shops left, the extra business continued, and her father had taken on Luke as an apprentice to help.

Her thoughts jerked back to the present as the carriage passed the Neck and into the open air outside of Boston. Annabeth breathed in deeply, wondering if there was anything as beautiful as fresh air. This was her first time out of Boston in a long time, and she relished every second of it – at least, until her foot bounced on the floor again and she remembered, her heart sinking, her task.

They pulled up to a large farmhouse, her father grabbing his bag. "Would you like to come in with me, sweetheart?" he asked.

Annabeth shook her head, giving her father a convincing smile. "I'm going to go down the road a bit, to that tavern down there. I need some water."

Her father smiled back. "All right. Be back within the hour."

"I will," Annabeth answered, fastening her light cloak around her shoulders. Although the rain had finally stopped and the sun had come out to shine upon the new, tiny green leaves dotting the trees, it was still rather chilly.

She waited until her father had gone inside the large house before slipping the bundle of newspapers under the cloak, her hands shaking. According to Revere, besides being banned for the rebel content, there was a hidden message inside that only a handful of Patriots outside the city would understand. If she were caught, even with such a small offense, she could be jailed.

When she reached the tavern, she pushed open the heavy oak door and walked boldly to the front, when the innkeeper was filling a few glasses. The couple of men inside looked at her curiously, and she felt a flush creeping up her neck. Brushing her scattered thoughts away, she pulled out the heavy stack of newspapers and set them on the counter.

The innkeeper, a Whig himself, understood immediately. He grabbed the stack and set them on the edge of the counter, announcing, "Men, news from Boston!"

The five men inside the mostly empty tavern got up, and one by one, grabbed a paper. Annabeth wondered – what if the people Revere was hoping to get the message wasn't here?

As if reading her thoughts, the innkeeper winked. "This place will be jam-packed later tonight."

Annabeth nodded, giving him a small smile. "Thank you, sir."

He nodded, and Annabeth quickly exited, breathing a sigh of relief. That was easier than I expected. The problem would be when her father didn't have a house call outside the city – the only reason the carriage wasn't searched was because Dr. Chase was a well-known Loyalist.

I'll think of something, Annabeth promised to herself as she began to walk down the dirt road again. The few people walking along as well greeted her politely. She smiled, closing her eyes and letting the rays of sunlight pierce through the cold wind, feeling the warmth soak into her.

"Are you all right, miss?"

Annabeth turned, knowing already who was asking. The voice was unmistakable. "Thank you, but I am simply enjoying the sunshine, Neptune."

The young man swing down from his horse, his green eyes glinted with – what, fear? No, it was something else, she couldn't tell what. His voice lowered. "Out of the Observers, I am Officer Jackson, a soldier in His Royal army."

"Oh, I apologize," Annabeth said quickly. "I wasn't given many of your details, since we never officially met. I am Annabeth Chase."

He bowed, his the tails of his red coat blowing slightly in the bitter wind. "A pleasure, I'm sure. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be going." Officer Jackson swung up on his inky stallion, nodding again. He glanced around, making sure no one was in earshot, then leaned down. "I heard about your assignment. Did it go well?"

Annabeth nodded. "It did. But why didn't they just have you do it?"

He sighed. "Even though I am an officer, I am unable to complete assignments such as that – it would be nearly impossible to sneak things past the guard at the Neck, since I do not own a carriage."

Annabeth nodded again. "I understand. Good day, Officer Jackson."

"Same to you, Annabeth," he answered, nudging his horse forward. "I'm sure we will meet again, very soon."

•

Percy's horse, Blackjack, trotted down the Neck about an hour later, Percy noting the progress of the wall General Gage had ordered built. He knew, as a Patriot, that many Whigs were volunteering to work on the wall simply to "accidents", like sinking barges full of bricks and staging wheelbarrows tipping over and the like. However, as a senior officer, he had to wonder why General Gage hadn't caught on yet.

He noticed a carriage pulling out over the Neck, saw a flash of long blond curls, and realized it was Annabeth Chase and her father. He chuckled to himself. That girl certainly had some spunk, going against her family and the Crown to do what she thought was right. Not only that, but she was in the perfect position for one of the most dangerous jobs: spying. Something one would be shot or hung for, and she was eager to do it. He admired her courage, and at the same time, had a strange urge to try to protect her. He shook it off, though. If she wanted to risk her life, then so be it.

Rather like himself, he supposed. Here he was, only eighteen, a senior officer in the British army and top spy for the Whigs. Rather contradictory life goals.

He glanced up from his musings and realized, a second too late, that he was about to witness one of the so called accidents. A section of the wall was collapsing – right over the Chases' carriage. He spurred Blackjack forward, shouting incoherent warnings, but it was too late. The wall collapsed in a storm of bricks and crumbling mortar, pouring onto the top of the carriage.

Screams and shouts burst out from a hundred throats, dozens of men running forward and beginning to pull away the bricks, trying to reach the carriage to dig it out. The horses neighed with fright, their bonds cut by the sharp bricks, and bolted. Percy joined the men, heedless of the fact that his uniform was getting soiled and ripped, his nails breaking as the hard pieces of rock dug under them. He had to get the young Patriot and her father out, though he wasn't even sure if they were alive.

After what seemed like hours but in reality was only seconds, one of the men found a pale, white hand. Their efforts renewed, dozens more crowded in, doing their best to retrieve the carriage. Within seconds, the two unconscious bodies were removed from the crumpled carriage and placed on the ground, shouting men and a few crying women pushing to see.

"Move along, move along, I'm a doctor," came a voice, and Percy looked up to see Dr. Warren, a known patriot, push through the crowd. Although they both recognized each other immediately from the work in the Observers, they pretended not to as Percy quickly moved out of the way, dizzied by the sight of Annabeth's pale, lifeless-looking form and blood streaming from a wound in her temple.

Dr. Warren quickly pulled the young woman's mob cap off, checking her pulse, and then quickly moved to her father. "They're alive," he announced immediately, and a hundred sighs of relief and prayers of thanks were exhaled. Somehow, though few, if any, of these people actually knew the Chases, most of them had seen the girl with the golden curls skipping through the wharf, or been treated by the kindly doctor, and were grateful that the two were alive.

Percy knelt by Dr. Warren. "Observer spy," he muttered, and Dr. Warren immediately understood. "Will she be all right?"

"Yes, this wound on her temple, a broken ankle, and many minor cuts and bruises are all that she suffered," the doctor replied. "This man, however…"

"Her father, I believe," Percy supplied.

"Her father has a broken leg and some more serious wounds on his chest. I want to move both of them to my apothecary." Dr. Warren stood up. "Does anyone have a wagon I could use?"

As a few men volunteered a wagon, Annabeth's big grey eyes fluttered open, and Percy felt more relieved than he cared to admit, though he didn't quite know why. He had only met this girl a few weeks before. "Annabeth."

"Officer Jackson," she answered, wincing with pain as she moved her ankle a bit. "What… what happened?"

"Section of the wall collapsed and buried your carriage," he explained. "Your ankle is broken, you have a large cut on your forehead, and many minor cuts and bruises, but other than that, you are unharmed."

"What about my father?" Annabeth asked immediately, trying to sit up. The men had picked up the still unconscious older man and were carefully moving him into the back of the wagon. "Is he alright?"

"He is alive, though Dr. Warren wants him moved to an apothecary. He suffered a broken leg and a wound on his chest, besides many bruises and cuts. Dr. Warren wants to examine him and set the leg."

Annabeth nodded, the worried look on her face returning, the grimace of pain adding to the dirt and blood oozing from the cut on her temple. She again tried to sit up and fell back with a slight cry of pain. Percy caught her gently.

"I'm… I'm sorry," she gasped. "My ankle…"

"I understand," he said. She steadied her ankle, which was at a strange angle. Percy shut his eyes – for all the mock-battles and training he had been through, he had never been able to stomach wounds like this. He supposed he would have to, if there was actually a war, but still.

He made a quick decision and picked the young woman up, bridal style. She gasped with pain, her arms flying around his neck. He walked slowly to the wagon and helped her in. A few men offered their coats, but Percy knew these poor farmers couldn't spare articles of clothing. He took off his own officer's coat, leaving only his white shirt, and lay it over Annabeth to cover her from the chill wind.

"Thank… you," she managed, biting her lip in pain. Percy found that despite the dirt and blood on her face, she was rather beautiful, and her ripped dress slipping down her pale, soft shoulder didn't help. He flushed and looked down. Despite the other officers, who whistled crudely at the pretty young ladies going by, he wasn't like that. His mother had always taught him to show respect to women, and he was planning to stick by it.

"You are welcome, Miss Chase," he answered, backing away. "I hope you recover quickly."

With that, Percy swung back up on Blackjack and trotted back down the Neck, leaving a rather befuddled Annabeth watching him go. When he was at the exit of the Neck, he looked back at the wagon moving towards the city and smiled softly, before turning again and urging Blackjack into a brisk trot down the bumpy dirt road.

He smiled again, almost for a reason unknown to part of him, but knew he now had an excuse to pay a call to the Chases.

He had to retrieve his jacket, didn't he?

Please review! Any ideas for future chapters are welcome. :) Also, I started a new story called "You're Music to My Ears," a cute Jasiper AU, so check that out if you have the chance! Love ya'll!

WM