Hello friends! Sorry for the late update (and the short chapter). As you will see, the next chapter is going to be longer and will have a battle scene; I was debating whether or not to just add it to this chapter, but it would have been insanely long if I had. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Song rec for this would be The Call by Regina Spektor. I'm going to try to start doing song recs for each chapter; if any of you guys have suggestions for this chapter or any chapter previous, let me know! :)

May 3rd, 1775

"…and so now Boston is being barricaded on both sides: from sea by the British navy, and on land by the colonial forces," Percy finished, gesturing wildly.

Annabeth gaped up at him as her nimble fingers tied a piece of thread around the bottom of her long braid. "But then how did we get into Boston?"

Percy ran his hands through his hair. "I knew you were coming back, so I told Paul Revere to let the troops know you were safe to let through."

"I must have fallen asleep while we were passing through and didn't realize," Annabeth admitted. Her features softened. "Thank you, Percy."

He smiled. "Of course."

"I guess this is one of the only times playing both sides is actually helpful," she said thoughtfully, breaking the slightly awkward silence. "With both sides at war in different entrances to the city, 'tis beneficial to know we can leave whenever we need to."

"True," Percy agreed, before quiet descended upon them again.

Only a few days after they had finally talked through most of their differences, things were still – well, not tense, exactly, between them. Just awkward in a way their friendship had formerly never been.

But both of them had changed enormously in the three months they had been fighting, so Percy guessed it was normal. They were relearning each other, both remembering the old and finding out new things.

He glanced over at Annabeth as she shifted on the sofa. Though the spring days were quite warm, the nights still got chilly, and the fire in the parlor was welcome as they talked. Percy had listened attentively as she told him about what had happened in Williamsburg; though he reminded himself to thank Jason later for keeping an eye on her, he also couldn't help but be a little bit worried. He knew Annabeth could take care of herself, but so many things could have gone wrong that night.

And it was his own fault that he hadn't been there, his own fault that she had had to lean upon Jason for help.

Stop blaming yourself, he told himself firmly, cutting off his thoughts. Annabeth told you, remember? Both of you are at fault.

It still hurt, though. Percy knew it would for a while: the fact that they were both too stubborn to forgive each other for so long had weighed upon him for weeks. It had multiplied tenfold, however, when they finally realized their idiocy and talked. They had wasted so much time, and with the war beginning, well – Percy wasn't even sure how much time he had left. Any day a battle could begin and he could be called the front.

One bullet was all it could take, and he would be gone.

It wasn't so much for himself that he was worried, though. It was Annabeth, left behind. She would grieve for him, certainly – but what then? Would she put herself in even more danger to help the cause? What risks would she take when he couldn't protect her any longer?

Her voice startled him out of his thoughts. "Remember when we went to my grandparents' house together last September?" she asked, her voice small.

Percy turned back to her, chuckling. "How could I forget? You almost died, Annabeth."

A grin flitted across her face. "I suppose that would have a way of sticking in your memory," she admitted. "But anyway – when I was there a few weeks ago, most of my time was spent outdoors on the plantation, and all I could think about was all the things we had done there last summer."

A picture of Annabeth in a soaking wet dress, her laugh echoing in the muggy woods, ran through Percy's mind. He smiled. "Yes, I can imagine. Remember when you tore your dress on the log while swimming, and we had to find a way to get you other clothes without anyone catching us?" he asked.

Annabeth's bright, clear laugh cut through the quiet. "And you wouldn't look at me because the tear had basically rendered my dress useless, and you were trying to hand me clothes while covering your eyes," she recalled, wiping her eyes.

"I was being a gentleman, 'beth," he protested indignantly, trying to hold back his own laughter. "Have you ever heard of being respectful to a lady? Or just respectful of other people's privacy in general?"

Annabeth scoffed. "Are you trying to remind me of the time I accidently walked into your room while you were changing? Because you have brought that up many times already, Jackson."

Percy grinned. "I wasn't going to bring it up, but…"

Annabeth swatted at him playfully. "Rude."

He felt his mouth twitch into a soft smile at the sparkle in her eyes, and he didn't even try to hold it back.

•

May 18th, 1775

"Do you think I should use red or this dark orange for the sunset?" Rachel asked, weighing a tube of paint in each hand. Percy shrugged noncommittedly.

"Um, either one?" he offered.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Not hugely helpful, Percy. What do you think, Annabeth?" she asked, turning away.

"Probably the dark orange, gradually fading lighter," Annabeth answered, head bent over Rachel's sketchbook to show what she meant.

Percy hid his grin as he gazed out over the sea, swinging his bare feet in the harbor. Like he had always thought, once Rachel and Annabeth had made an effort to become friends, they got along famously. Both were intelligent, fiery, and very independent young ladies who were interested in art and literature, things most women of the day cared little about.

Now, as had become their habit, they were at the wharf, watching the sunset and chatting. Although things had been a bit awkward between Rachel and Annabeth at first, not to mention the slight undercurrent of tension between Annabeth and Percy, the last two weeks had erased a large amount of it.

It was astonishing, really. Annabeth and Percy had fallen back into their old rhythm incredibly quickly, bantering and teasing each other at breakfast, spending time together, even going back to gathering information for the Patriots together.

Beyond simply the joy he felt being friends again, it gave Percy something to do. With the British Navy hemming in the wharf and the colonial army blocking past the Neck, there was not much that anyone in Boston could do these days. Although it had only been less than a month since the harbor had been closed, supplies were lowering and tensions rising. The British soldiers were tired of being barricaded into the city, and the citizens of the town were weary of the soldiers living with them, invading their houses, shops, and taverns.

At this point, Percy could hardly blame either side. It was only a matter of time until someone made a move, but until then, there was not much anyone stuck in Boston could do.

He shook himself from his thoughts as Annabeth's voice cut into his head. "…wouldn't you think, Percy?"

He looked up, blinking at her. "What?"

Rachel chuckled. "Look who isn't paying attention. Again."

Annabeth sighed, pretending to shake her head in despair. "Honestly, he has the attention span of an infant."

Percy scowled at the girls. "I was listening, I just wasn't… listening?" he tried. Alright, that had sounded a lot better in his head.

The girls snickered, Annabeth's long blond curls bouncing next to Rachel's soft, frizzy ringlets. Even their hair mimicked their wild personalities.

Percy sighed. This probably hadn't been his best idea, getting his two best friends as partners in crime. Honestly, what had he been thinking? Both of their dangerous wit and sarcasm combined in full force had to be illegal somewhere.

"Anyway, I was asking if you think there will be a battle soon," Annabeth continued, her expression growing grave. "We cannot simply stay in Boston forever. Eventually, one side will make a move, don't you think?"

Percy bit his lip. "I honestly have no idea," he admitted. "Though that seems likely, Major Pitcairn is being very secretive lately. I believe they are planning something, but…"

Rachel nodded thoughtfully. "Is there a possibility that the British will manage to break through the colonial army? If they decided to break through the barricade, I mean," she added, after a small pause.

He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't… I don't know," That was what was the main problem was, he decided; not knowing. Not knowing what would happen to the people he loved, to the colonies, to him. The mystery shrouding the future was maddening.

Annabeth, seeming to sense his thoughts, reached over and squeezed his hand. "I guess we shall just have to see," she said softly.

Rachel wiggled her eyebrows at their intertwined fingers and winked at him behind Annabeth's head with a grin that was far too conspiratorial for his comfort. He ignored her and squeezed Annabeth's hand back.

"I suppose we will."

•

June 16th, 1775

"A message for Officer Jackson," the young man announced, holding a lantern in the inky night as Hazel opened the Chase's front door. Percy, standing behind her, pointedly ignored how Hazel was suddenly twisting her apron nervously in her delicate hands, a small smile on her face, and the young man – what was his name, Frank? – gazing at the pretty young maid adoringly.

Percy raised his eyebrows, and Frank suddenly jerked back to reality, stuttering apologies as he quickly handed Percy the small, sealed envelope.

Grinning slightly, Percy scanned the note quickly, his grin fading as he read it. He crumpled the note into a ball and shoved it back into Frank's hand. "Listen to me," he said, meeting Frank's eyes with an intensity that made the boy cringe. "Burn this, and don't show it to anyone. Do you understand?"

Frank nodded, wide-eyed.

"Now," Percy ordered, stalking back into the house.

Hazel looked worried. "What's wrong, Perseus?" she chirped, and Percy felt himself soften.

"Nothing, Hazel. I'm sorry," he said quickly, offering a hasty smile as he grabbed the bannister. Hazel didn't look reassured as he ran up the stairs two at a time to Annabeth's room.

"Annabeth? You here?" he called, pounding on the door. "Open up."

He heard her feet pattering in the room, and sighed as he waited for her to open up the door. "Any day, now, 'beth," he called.

Finally the door opened. Annabeth looked annoyed and exhausted, her nightgown wrinkled and a robe hastily thrown around her shoulders. "'Tis time for bed, Percy," she said irritably. "What do you need?"

Percy lowered his voice. "I just got a message from Major Pitcairn."

Annabeth's sleepy eyes widened. "What about?"

Bobby and Matthew ran past them down the hall, shouting gleefully about something. Percy gestured to the door, lowering his tone even further as he glanced around anxiously. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," Annabeth answered, still looking confused as she ushered him in.

Once she had closed the door, Percy began. "The message said that British troops are mustering for battle, Annabeth. Tomorrow. We will, apparently, be trying to take back Breed's Hill and perhaps even break through the barricade of Boston."

The blood had drained from Annabeth's face, and she sat down on her bed like all her energy had suddenly abandoned her. "What?" she whispered. "A battle?"

Percy nodded gravely. "And I have to fight. It isn't an option, not if I desire to keep my position as a spy."

"Your position as a spy won't matter if you're dead, Percy!" she hissed. "You – you can't go. Tell them anything – tell them…"

"I have to, Annabeth," Percy said softly, sitting on the bed next to her and taking her hands in his comfortingly. They were ice cold.

She jerked away from his touch. "No. Percy, you can't go."

"Why the hell not?" Percy asked, beginning to get angry. "I'm sorry, 'beth, but since when do you have control over my life? I don't want to fight in this battle any more than you want me to. Do you think I want to be fighting with my friends and countrymen, watching them be injured and wounded? Do you think I want to be forced to shoot at the side I am truly fighting for, at men that I have grown close with over the past year?" He was nearly shouting now. "Do you think I want this?"

It shocked him when a single tear ran down her cheek. "I'm – I'm sorry," she whispered, twisting her robe in her hands and refusing to meet his eyes. "I just… I can't lose you, Percy. Not again."

Percy understood what she meant. That time at her grandparent's when she had been burning with fever and almost dead – he hadn't known what to do. At that point they had only been friends for a few months, and yet he hadn't been able to imagine his life without her.

And now, after knowing each other for over a year, going through life-and-death situations together, weathering storms in their relationship and learning to forgive – he completely understood Annabeth's resistance.

He couldn't imagine what he would do if he lost her again, and therefore could put himself in her shoes.

But he had no choice.

"I'm sorry, Annabeth. I am. But you know I have to fight," Percy said quietly, touching her hand. This time, she didn't pull away, and instead hugged him swiftly, tightly.

Percy embraced her back, holding her like she was his lifeline. "You must stay here, where you'll be safe," he whispered in her ear. "Don't try to go to the battle." He felt a warm drop of water land on his neck, and pain flared his in heart.

But he still didn't let her go. "Promise me, Annabeth," Percy insisted, and his voice was dangerously close to breaking.

Annabeth sniffled as she pulled back. "I – I promise," she whispered.

Percy squeezed her hand. "Thank you," he said quietly, relief flooding him. At least, no matter what happened to him, she would be safe.

She refused to meet his eyes as she stood up, chewing on her bottom lip. "You should probably go to bed."

Percy nodded. "Goodnight, 'beth."

Annabeth hugged him swiftly. "What time will you be leaving?" she asked.

Percy shrugged. "The note said the army will be assembling tomorrow morning at dawn."

She nodded, swallowing. "Alright. Please, please, Percy. Be careful."

He tried for a grin. "You know me – my life and occupation is extremely safe."

Annabeth swatted his arm, trying for a laugh, but he saw she was close to tears behind her teasing grin.

He held her close and kissed her forehead gently, dreading the feeling that it was the last time he would ever hold her. "I'll come back, 'beth. I promise."

She smiled up at him, a stray tear making its way down her face. "I know."

Okie dokie! Hopefully the next chap will be up in a week or so, though no promises bc this is the last week of school before Thanksgiving break for me and I'm pretty stressed with school rn.

Shoutout to Helena (as always) who is amazing and wonderful and catches all my mistakes (and also googles when paint tubes and streetlamps were invented and also where hot chocolate came from, bc she likes historical accuracy like that. Thanks, bae. xx)

Hope you guys enjoyed! Please leave a reviewww bc they are my life and really inspire me to write. :D

WM