Hey guys! Yes, I'm updating a bit early, because I'm leaving for a wedding tonight and won't be back until Monday. I'm not sure if I'll have wifi in my hotel, so I just decided to be on the safe side and update today. Hope you enjoy! :)

February 2nd, 1775

Annabeth was tired of winter.

Well, not tired, exactly. Just wishing it was over. She wanted the feel sun on her face and warm breezes in her hair, not snowstorms and frigid air. Although playing in the snow with Percy and her brothers was enjoyable, she most definitely was ready for spring.

Unfortunately, she knew she wouldn't be getting her wish for a while.

With February came more snow. Ice coated the roads; her father's shop grew less busy, while his doctor calls grew more frequent. People had broken bones from falling on ice, frostbite from being outside too long, and a myriad of sicknesses from the cramped quarters and unwashed bodies. Though she was only seventeen, Annabeth had been taught apothecary skills since she was young, and her father asked her to accompany him on house calls regularly.

One night, she woke to her father shaking her gently. "What is it, Father?" she asked groggily.

"One of Mrs. Smith's servant boys just arrived at our door. She has gone into labor, and far earlier than we expected. I will most likely need your help."

Annabeth nodded, trying to clear the fogginess from her head. She knew she hadn't been getting enough sleep lately, but this was obviously urgent. Sleep could wait.

Dr. Chase exited her room, telling her to hurry. Annabeth quickly pulled on high, thick wool stockings and her heavy petticoats over her shift. She grabbed her dress from the day before and pulled it over her head, tying a fresh apron overtop it. After lacing up her leather boots, she wrapped her favorite shawl around her shoulders and fastened her wool cloak over it. She knew from experience that it was best to bundle up against the freezing night air.

She quietly made her way downstairs, doing her best not to wake Mrs. Chase, Percy, or her brothers. To her surprise, Percy and her father were talking in low tones when she arrived.

"Percy," she greeted him quietly, trying to disguise the weariness in her voice. He worried about her health far too much already. "What are you doing up?"

Percy sent her a smile. "Your father asked me to come too. He said he needed all the help he could get."

Annabeth nodded and shivered a bit. Percy, of course, noticed. "Are you dressed warmly enough?" he asked. Annabeth nodded again.

"We must leave now," Dr. Chase reminded them. The two nodded, Percy pulling on his cloak over his coat. The servant boy had already left, riding away on a fast black mule, so the three of them quickly stepped into the carriage. One of the stable boys yawned as he hooked up the horses, and within moments they were off.

It wasn't a long ride to Mrs. Smith's house, but there was plenty of time for the nerves to start bubbling in Annabeth's stomach. This would be her first time going to a birth, and she knew as well as anybody that the death rate for infants was high. Not to mention that Mrs. Smith was going into labor almost a month early – it would surely take a miracle for both her and the baby to survive.

Annabeth clenched her fists. They would survive, as long as she had anything to do with it.

Percy seemed to notice her nervousness, and his large, rough hand took hold of hers comfortingly. She squeezed back, relishing in the safety and comfort it brought.

Sooner than Annabeth would have wished, the carriage was stopping at Mrs. Smith's door. The three of them got out quickly.

"Percy, can you go take the horses to the stable? 'Tis too cold for them to be out tonight, and I do not know how long we'll be."

Percy nodded and led the horses to the stable next to the house. Annabeth and her father hurried to the house.

Inside was chaos, a stark contrast to the cold, quiet night outside. Mrs. Smith's three old children – two boys, age four and seven, and a little girl of five – were all crying simultaneously. Mr. Smith looked exhausted and worried, his face pinched in thin lines.

"Dr. Chase! Thank God you've come. Quickly, quickly. Children," he said, addressing the three weeping youngsters hanging on his legs, "Mistress Annabeth will tend to you for now."

The children stopped crying and gazed at her. Annabeth held out her arms. "Come here, sweets," she said in a low, soothing voice. Years of experience with her younger brothers told her that the children weren't really scared, just confused and tired. "Do you want to read a book?" She pulled a small book from her bag. It was Noah and the Ark, with bright pictures of the animals.

The children warily moved towards her, and Annabeth sighed inwardly with relief. Mr. Smith nodded at her gratefully before disappearing into the bedroom with Dr. Chase, and Annabeth sent one of the maids for some hot chocolate for the children.

Just as the warm drinks arrived, Percy bustled in through the door, taking off his heavy cloak. "How is she doing?" he asked Annabeth in a low tone as he helped hand out the hot chocolate.

"I don't know." Annabeth worried her lower lip. "Father went into the bedroom and hasn't been back out yet. I think –"

Just then, Dr. Chase shouted from behind the bedroom door, "Annabeth! I need your help immediately."

Annabeth quickly got to her feet. "Children, this is Percy. He's going to read you the book while I tend to your mama. Can you be good for him?" She ignored Percy's quiet squawk of protest beside her.

The children nodded solemnly.

"Annabeth, I'm not really, uh, experienced with children," he said nervously out of the corner of his mouth.

"Nonsense," Annabeth said in a voice that left no room for argument. "I've seen you with my brothers, Percy. They love you. You'll be fine," she assured him.

Percy grimaced, but gingerly sat on the sofa, and immediately the four-year-old climbed up next to him and snuggled into his side. Looking a bit stunned, Percy began reading the book, and the two other children gathered around to listen, drying their tears. The seven-year-old began to make noises imitating the animals, and Annabeth allowed herself a smile at the sight before hurrying to the bedroom and shutting the door.

"Yes, Father?" she asked, taking off her cloak and retying her apron. Mrs. Smith lay on the bed, sweaty and panting. Her husband paced in the corner of the room.

His brow furrowed, Dr. Chase turned to his daughter, speaking quietly. "It's much too early. I highly doubt the child will live, and I am not sure about the mother, either."

"They will," Annabeth assured him firmly.

Dr. Chase sighed, running a hand through his hair wearily. "We shall see. For now, go heat up a large pot of water, and see if you can find some cloths. This will be a long night."

•

Almost eight hours later, the sun was barely peeking over the hills, turning the thick snow clouds in the sky a pale pink. Snow had begun to fall sometime during the night, and Annabeth allowed herself a second to appreciate the gorgeous sunrise before turning back to Mrs. Smith.

The poor woman had struggled through agonizing contractions hour after hour; Annabeth was amazed at her strength. She quickly pressed a cool washcloth to the woman's forehead, wiping away both sweat and tears. Dr. Chase was at the foot of the bed, and Mr. Smith had fallen asleep in an armchair.

A thin hand grasped her wrist as she turned away. "I want to hold… my baby," Mrs. Smith's weak voice rasped. Her brow was furrowed, and Annabeth knew the mother understood that chances of her child's survival were slim.

She took the woman's hand and squeezed it comfortingly. "I promise, you shall," she said, realizing only after she said it that she had no right to promise anything. Dr. Chase was convinced at this point the baby would not live.

Annabeth gazed down at Mrs. Smith and felt her heart constrict. The young woman was not much older than herself; maybe three-and-twenty at the most. Most girls were married earlier, and Mrs. Smith must have been no older than fourteen or fifteen when she married.

Annabeth couldn't imagine herself in less than five years with three children and one on the way, but she also knew she was lucky. Her own family was relatively wealthy, from the combined income from the shop and Dr. Chase's medical work; there was no need for her to marry. But many other families were forced to marry off their daughters when they were young, because they had other mouths to feed and couldn't afford to have her live with them anymore. One of Annabeth's old friends, Lou Ellen, had been married when she was only thirteen, to a man fifteen years older than her. Although her husband was a good man and could provide for his young wife and children, Annabeth couldn't help but shudder at the thought.

Suddenly a contraction seized Mrs. Smith, jerking Annabeth from her thoughts. The young woman gritted her teeth, holding Annabeth's hand so tightly that she thought her wrist might break. Dr. Chase called out, "It's coming!"

The baby slipped out, and Annabeth saw her father catch it, blood and other fluids covering the tiny thing. For a split second, Annabeth's heart sank. The baby wasn't crying.

And then a loud, lusty cry burst forth, and Annabeth felt a wave of relief hit her. Mrs. Smith's shoulders sagged in gladness and exhaustion, and she released Annabeth's hand. Annabeth hurried to the foot of the bed.

"A healthy baby girl," Dr. Chase announced, his voice joyful. Annabeth could see the tension in his shoulders relax. Annabeth helped him cut the cord and gently tied a bit of string around the stub.

After the baby was free, he handed the wailing newborn to his daughter. "She's smaller than normal, for certain, but I believe she will be fine. Clean her up while I take care of Mrs. Smith," he told her. "The birth was hard on her body, so it might be a while, and I don't want to wake Mr. Smith just yet."

Annabeth nodded and took the baby, marveling in the tininess and newness of it. Thick, creamy substance covered its skin, and a head of dark hair caught her eye. She quickly cleaned off and swaddled the baby, holding it gently.

As soon as it was warm, the little thing stopped its crying and fell asleep. Annabeth touched its face wonderingly, tracing its delicate cheekbones and tiny nose. It was so tiny, so precious, that Annabeth felt her heart constrict.

She carefully walked out of the room and shut the door behind her, making her way to the Smith's parlor. When she reached it, Annabeth had to stifle a laugh. Percy was sitting on the couch, head thrown back and snoring. All three children were on top of him in varying positions; the youngest one was half upside down, head in Percy's lap, and the other two were in a tangle of limbs on his other side.

Annabeth used the free hand that wasn't holding the baby to shake him. "Percy, wake up," she whispered.

His eyes opened groggily. "Annabeth?" She shushed him, and his eyes widened, seeing the three sleeping children hanging on him. His eyes flew back to her. "Mrs. Smith? The baby?"

She smiled and showed him the sleeping bundle in her arms. His grin grew huge, and he hastily but carefully moved the little bodies onto the couch and stood up, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Boy or girl?" he asked in a whisper.

"Girl," Annabeth told him. She carefully held out the tiny baby. "Do you want to hold her?"

He looked worried. "I – I've never held a baby before –"

"I'll help," she assured him, and gave him the baby. "Just support the head – yes, like that – and cradle it. Perfect," she told him quietly, the baby now in the crook of his left arm. Its tiny size was even more apparent in Percy's lanky, muscular form; it looked like nothing but a doll, and Annabeth knew the baby's tiny body was fragile enough for Percy to snap in two without much effort.

And yet she had never seen him be more gentle. His rough finger flitted up to touch the baby's face, tracing over the fuzzy eyebrows and miniature ears. Little eyelashes fluttered as his fingers traced the tiny lips, and the baby opened her eyes, revealing cloudy, murky blue gazing up at the two of them.

Annabeth moved closer, hand resting on his shoulder. "She can't see us yet, at least not how we see," she explained softly. "But she can hear."

Percy's face was awash in awe, looking down at the baby's eyes gazing up at them, and he began to hum softly. His form, like a giant compared to the precious bundle in his arms, began to rock from side to side, swaying to the lullaby he was humming.

Annabeth let her eyes wander from the infant to Percy. Even having never held a baby before, he looked relaxed and at ease, and completely in love with the infant as he sang softly to it. She had already known, from when he played with her younger brothers and reading books to the Smith children the night before, that he was good with children, but seeing him with a newborn in his arms made her realize just how amazing of a father he would be some day.

She shook the thoughts from her head, but knew the picture of Percy singing to a tiny infant in his arms would stay with her forever.

Annabeth decided to let the children sleep, since they had been up for hours the night before. She herself was exhausted; her head was pounding, and every step took an enormous amount of effort, but she knew it could be a while before they could leave.

After a few minutes, she took the baby back from Percy and went back to the bedroom. Mr. Smith was just waking up, and his exhausted wife had fallen asleep.

An expression similar to Percy's was on his face as he gazed down at his baby daughter. "Can I hold her?" he asked wonderingly, and Annabeth gladly handed the child to its father.

She quickly moved to where her father stood, cleaning up. "Mrs. Smith will be completely fine," he answered her unspoken question. "The baby is healthy, as well."

Annabeth smiled. "I knew they would be." She embraced him wearily.

He pulled back. "I know you must be tired, dear. We shall leave soon, I promise."

"I'm fine," Annabeth lied, putting on a smile. "Don't worry about me, Father. Shall I tell Percy to get the carriage?"

He looked at her fondly. "Yes, you may. And Annabeth?"

She paused as she went through the door. "Yes?"

His expression was proud. "I could not have saved both mother and daughter without you. Thank you for your help tonight."

Annabeth felt a real smile spread across her face. "You're welcome, Father," she said, and closed the door.

She entered the parlor and saw the three children were still sleeping, and Percy had begun dozing again in one of the chairs. Annabeth hated to wake him, but she knew they should be getting home. "Percy," she said, shaking him gently. "We're leaving."

He grunted and opened his eyes. "I'm awake," he said quickly, sitting up, before immediately falling back asleep. Annabeth tried not to laugh.

"Percy. Home. Food," she tried, and he groaned quietly and sat up.

"I was having the most wonderful dream," he complained quietly as he got to his feet, yawning.

'Oh? What was it about?" asked Annabeth absentmindedly as she fastened her cloak.

His cheeks flushed, and he looked away. "Uh – I don't remember," he said quickly. Annabeth sent him a look, but he busied himself with pulling on his own cloak and wouldn't look at her.

Annabeth was a bit curious, but was too exhausted to press the matter further. Dr. Chase came into the room and motioned for them to come; they did, though Percy carefully tucked a blanket over the three sleeping children on the sofa.

"Thank you both for coming to help," Dr. Chase said once they were in the carriage heading home. "Like I told Annabeth, you both were invaluable."

"My pleasure, sir," Percy told him as he offered a hand to Annabeth as she got in the carriage. She took it gratefully as she sat down with a sigh. Percy got in after her, shutting the door.

Dr. Chase, sitting in the front of the buggy, snapped the reigns, and the horses began trotting home. Annabeth felt Percy's arm slide around her shoulders, and she leaned into it, sighing contentedly. Sitting down for the first time in hours felt like heaven to her sore feet, and her headache quieted a bit.

They were quiet for a bit before Percy spoke. "Are you alright?"

Annabeth nodded wearily. "Just tired. This is the first time I've sat down since the carriage ride over here." She glanced up at his worried expression and smile reassuringly. "Don't worry so much, Perce. I'll get some rest when we get home."

He nodded with a tired smile, and they both looked out the window at the falling snow. The sun had come up, but clouds were covering it, and the day was dark. Dark grey clouds blanketed the horizon.

"Thank you for taking care of the children," Annabeth said suddenly. "They loved you, the little one especially."

Percy laughed a little. "Yes, he did take a liking to me, didn't he. It was enjoyable. I like children," he added certainly, and Annabeth smothered a giggle.

"Yes, I like children too." She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Goodnight, Percy."

She felt him kiss her hair gently. "Goodnight, Annabeth."

•

Annabeth was just as busy the next few weeks; she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in weeks. She passed a mirror one day and was shocked at the dark, purple-grey circles under her eyes, made clearer by the rest of her face being drawn and far too pale. Her father tried to take as many calls as he could by himself, but the cold weather seemed to multiply the accidents and sicknesses, and he needed her help almost every day.

Although it felt like she never stopped working – her duties included feeding the sick, emptying vomit bowls and chamber pots, taking care of small children, setting broken bones, wrapping frostbitten fingers, and more – she gathered quite a lot of small tidbits of information. The information ranged from the British troops movements, the governor's plans, and everything in between. Paul Revere was delighted, and gave her more than enough small, fake tidbits to give back to Major Pitcairn.

It was all going well until she herself got sick.

Although most of the time she felt fine, Annabeth knew the malaria she had gotten the summer before had weakened her body. Honestly, she was surprised she hadn't contracted one of the various illnesses she was around constantly before this.

Somehow, it still came as a shock when she passed out at the breakfast table one frigid morning. At first, her father thought it was just lack of sleep – she had been out with him so much and throughout the hours of the night. But she knew she hadn't been well for a while.

It wasn't as bad as the malaria, but whatever illness Annabeth caught took her out for weeks. She had a fever for days, tossing and turning, head pounding, body aching. She threw up most of what she ate, and she grew dangerously thin.

Although her parents insisted that her brothers stay away so they weren't exposed to the sickness, Percy sneaked into the sickroom so much that her father gave up trying to keep him out. He held her hair as she vomited up the contents of her stomach, helped her sip water slowly, and told her stories to keep her mind off her pounding head. Sometimes his rough voice sang her to sleep, bashfully grinning when she told him she liked his singing.

Other times, Annabeth would wake up after a particularly bad night to him dozing in a chair by the side of her bead, drool making a trail from the corner of his mouth. She would chuckle quietly and go back to sleep, comforted in knowing that he was there and taking care of her.

It was halfway through March by the time she was finally feeling well enough to get out of bed. The weak sunshine had just barely begun to melt the snow and ice, and Annabeth begged her father to let her outside.

"You're too weak," he told her firmly. "You cannot walk down the stairs, and I'm not as strong as I used to be; I can't carry you. I'm sorry, Annabeth."

Of course, Percy came to her rescue. With her father's grudging permission, he scooped her up, blankets and all, and carried her into the cold spring sun with the greatest of care. He brought out an old wooden chair for her, and there she sat for hours every day, reading and soaking up the sun and fresh air after being inside for so long.

•

February 25th, 1775

Tugging the brush through her matted curls, Annabeth let out a growl, then a little squeal of pain. She rarely brushed her hair; usually only before she took a bath, and baths were rare, especially in the winter. But she felt disgusting after being sick and in bed for so long, and she had finally grown strong enough to take a bath by herself.

The servants had already drawn the water, so Annabeth let herself sink into the metal tub with a sigh. The steaming water, fresh from the stove, soothed her tired body like nothing else, and the sensation was blissful. She scrubbed away the dirt and grime from her body with the slimy lard soap they had made last fall, relishing in the feeling of being clean. She washed her hair and rinsed it out, combing it with her fingers to get the rest of the knots out.

Long after the water had grown cold, Annabeth reluctantly got out of the tub, grabbing a towel she had hung on the back of the chair. After drying off, she pulled on her freshly-washed shift and a thick robe.

Sitting down, she took a small bottle of rose-water her father had gotten her and worked it through her hair, before drying her long locks with a piece of soft cloth. She read a book for an hour or so, letting her curls shrink into spirals, before gathering them into a satin mobcap.

She got into her bed, the coverlets freshly washed after her illness, before realizing she didn't have her thick winter blanket. It was still quite chilly, especially after being wet, and Annabeth was shivering.

She knew Percy's room had a wardrobe with extra quilts in it, so she pulled her robe tight around her shoulders, grabbed the flickering candle, and tiptoed through the quiet halls of the Chase's home. It was about ten o'clock at night, but she knew Percy was probably still at the village tavern.

Within moments, she had found her blanket in the wardrobe, and was about to exit Percy's room before catching sight of an opened letter on Percy's vanity. She hesitated, torn between curiosity and knowing she shouldn't look at Percy's private letters.

It might be something useful, she tried to reason with herself. Maybe he forgot to tell me. I should check, just in case.

She crossed the room swiftly and held the letter nearer to the candle, trying to push down her guilty feelings. She checked the left corner first; it was dated January 13th, so he had received it over three weeks before.

Dearest Percy, it began. Annabeth frowned. It must be from someone close to him; hardly anyone called him anything besides Perseus or Officer Jackson.

I have missed you so much since you went to the colonies. I can hardly bear going to all the balls and parties my father holds without you! Your entertainment was invaluable during those boring things, even if your dancing was always terrible.

Now, onto my news. I can hardly write, I am so overjoyed with what has happened. My father has decided to move temporarily to the colonies for business opportunities, and he will be bringing Mother and me along with him! You are living in Boston now, correct? That is where he plans to go! By the time you have received this letter, we will be on a ship heading to Boston. My father says we will probably arrive around the end of February. I am anticipating seeing you again greatly.

Your mother sends her love, and tells you to remember to be careful. I give you my love as well, and will be seeing you soon –

Yours always,

Rachel

Just as her eyes grazed the closing, Percy's door opened behind her, and her tense nerves caused her to jump.

She whirled around, seeing Percy at the door looking bewildered. "Annabeth? What are you doing in here?"

"I, uh, was getting my quilt from the wardrobe," Annabeth told him truthfully, holding up her quilt.

His betrayed look cut her to the core. "Then why are you standing at my desk and holding a letter – " he crossed the room quickly and snatched it out of her hands, "that is very clearly mine?"

Annabeth bit her lip guiltily. "I – I thought it might have information in it," she told him. "And maybe you had forgotten to tell me, so I – "

"You thought it was alright to just go and read my private letter?" Percy asked her incredulously. "You seriously thought I wouldn't have told you if I had received information? Annabeth – " he turned away, hand going to the back of his neck in frustration.

Annabeth spread her hands indignantly. "Percy, I'm sorry for reading your letter, but why didn't you tell me that your friend, Rachel, was coming to the colonies? Do I not deserve to know?"

"No!" Percy said immediately, then visibly winced an backtracked. "I mean – I got the letter soon after you got sick, and then there was never a good time – "

"That's not an excuse, Percy," Annabeth argued.

"Since when are you entitled to know all my personal information, Annabeth?" he answered hotly, and all of Annabeth's thought processes froze.

Why did she care so much?

She wracked her brain, knowing that logically, there was a reason she felt betrayed by not being told Percy's special friend was coming to the colonies.

"Because – because I'm you friend, Percy," she told him. Even to her own ears it felt like a lame excuse.

He bit his lip. "Yes, you are my best friend, but you don't have to know everything, Annabeth. I would have told you in my own time."

"I – I'm sorry, Percy," Annabeth mumbled, feeling humiliated, guilty, and for some reason, angry, all at the same time. Before her pride was hurt too much, she added, "I – I probably should be getting to bed. Goodnight." She exited the room without waiting for a reply.

Back in her own room, though, she sagged against the wall, head swirling. On one hand, she did feel betrayed that Percy hadn't told her about whoever this Rachel person was; in all their months of being friends, she had never once come up in a single conversation, which Annabeth thought was a little strange. On the other hand, the more logical side of her firmly said that snooping in Percy's personal items was wrong and invasive, besides taking advantage of their friendship.

Annabeth sighed deeply, her hands coming up to rub away a throbbing headache. It was all too complicated. She'd figure it out in the morning.

When she woke up, though, Percy was a bit cooler during breakfast. Afterword, though, he invited her to the wharf where the ships came in.

Annabeth agreed reluctantly. Although she didn't want to meet Rachel, she also wanted to mend her friendship with Percy as soon as possible.

They were almost out the door when Percy saw she didn't have her shawl. Although she protested, her insisted on going back inside and getting it for her. She felt a small prick of satisfaction that he did, indeed, still care for her just as much as before – and then wondered why she thought he wouldn't.

They walked to the wharf silently, ignoring the crowds of people out in the market on the cold winter day. The remaining snow and ice crunched under their boots, and even attempts at small talk were abandoned.

Annabeth was miserable. Even their fight back at her grandparents' house, in September, hadn't been like this – ignoring each other even when in their company. It felt wrong and awkward, everything Annabeth knew their friendship wasn't.

Finally they reached the bustling harbor. A ship had just come in, and with a sinking heart, Annabeth scanned the crowd for a rich-looking young lady.

"She – uh, has red hair," Percy said quietly, scuffing his feet on the street. "Curlier than yours."

Annabeth nodded silently. Together they skimmed the busy, eyes sliding over sailors and passengers.

"There she is," Percy said suddenly, and without waiting for her pushed his way through the crowd, bright red officer's coat allowing him to pass. "Rachel!" he called. "Over here!"

Annabeth followed, heart sinking. The first thought she had as the infamous Rachel Elizabeth Dare was that she was pretty. Unfairly so.

She had bright red, curly hair pulled into an untidy updo, wispy curls flying around her pale, slim face. She had freckles on her white cheeks and bright green eyes framed with thick black eyelashes, delicate auburn eyebrows. She wore a satin green dress that matched her eyes, and somehow had managed to keep it clean on the muddy wharf. A pale pink woolen cloak swung around her slender shoulders, and her whole demeanor brightened when she saw Percy.

"Percy!" she called, and like Annabeth had done so many times, launched herself into Percy's waiting arms without a thought to what other people thought.

Annabeth fought the wave of jealousy of seeing someone else in Percy's arms and wondered at herself. Percy's my friend! A very good friend, and 'tis perfectly fine if he has others. It's not any of my business.

But when Rachel turned to her, pale cheeks flushed with pleasure, bright smile in place, Annabeth could only offer a tight grimace of a smile in return. She could see Percy behind her, giving her a look, but she couldn't help herself.

"And who is this, Percy?" Rachel asked, voice bright and chirpy as a robin. Annabeth hated it.

"This is my friend, Annabeth Chase," he told her. "I am boarding with the Chase's family."

"Oh, how lovely!" Rachel gushed, freckles seeming to dance across her cheeks. "You are so pretty. I wish my hair would curl like yours – is it natural?" Without waiting for a reply, she went on, "I would love to get to know you better."

"Uh, yes," Annabeth said, remembering her manners. "Likewise, I'm sure." Although she knew that the sarcasm had gone over Rachel's head, she also knew Percy knew exactly what she meant. His features hardened at her, and Annabeth tried not to cringe under his look.

Rachel broke the slightly awkward silence by turning to Percy. "My parents said that I could see where you live, before I follow them to the house Father is renting. Shall we, Annabeth?" she added, offering her arm to Annabeth.

Annabeth hesitated for just a second, not knowing what to do with this pretty, sweet creature who was everything opposite to what she was expecting. Thinking her hesitation to be haughtiness, Percy took Rachel's arm instead, and gave Annabeth a significant look.

The two walked on ahead, laughing and reminiscing as they crunched through the snow, while Annabeth trudged miserably behind them.

This would be a long visit.

And that's it! Yes, I'm sorry for making Percabeth fight, but I promise it will eventually work out. And RED is one of my favorite characters, so it will be fun to add her into this universe.

Thanks to my amazing Helena (GollyGeeWhiz), who edited this even though she was on vacation and caught all my many typos! She is amazing. Check out her story Childhood because it's fantastic and Percabeth-y. 'Nuff said. On the same lines, my awesome friend Mia (herecomesthepun) is finishing up her incredible Percabeth story iSpy - if you haven't read it already I recommend it highly!

On Pinterest, Helena, Mia, and I have started moodboards for all three of our Percabeth stories - my username is rachel_kate328, and you can find them on my profile, as well as Helena's and Mia's. The boards are mostly aesthetic because aesthetics are my guilty pleasure *cough cough* and they're super helpful for visualizing characters, places, etc., so we're having a lot of fun adding pins. If you have an account and would like to send any of us pins you think would fit the story, please do! I know we'd love any feedback we can get.

And that's all for this way-too-long author's note. Thanks so much for reading, and please leave a review! :)

WM