AN: Happy Back to the Future day!

Me: *wipes sweat from brow (because apparently it's that hard for me to write a damn chapter)* That was a pretty good chapter. Maybe it will tide everyone over for, like, two weeks. I'll just take a teeny, tiny break. Maybe I can focus on my original story!

Me, a month later: Oh, sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit.

And that concludes this retelling of the famous story, This is how Bad I Am with Dates. Thank you.

To HydraCourt: Here's your Rey's. *flings Reynas* But, seriously, I made sure to sprinkle a tiny bit of Reyna into this. :)

To clo7615: Thank you!

To greekgeekgirlbro: Happy endings? So soon? Ha ha ha…BWA HA HA HA HA. Like that'd happen.

To Amollygamation: Hmm. I didn't know that either. I guess we both learned something!

To liaregie: Thank you! It's good to know that I make the crack ships work, and you don't think I'm stuffing them down your throat or anything. I've got about…two more crack ships? And, yes, that realization of Annabeth's is bitterness/jealousy.

To Florence23: Thank you for the suggestion (it's quite flattering to know that people are making fan fictions–well, theories, more likely–of my fan fictions, ha ha), but I already know how this is going to end.

She's shaking.

Not from the water soaking her to the bone, or the crisp chill to the air.

But with anger.

God dammit Cupid why did you do this why–

The others obviously take her shaking for shivering, as Percy wraps her in her own jacket and his before joining Piper in the search to find bars to call the police. Jason and Frank are holding down the bastard that shoved Leo off the edge (though Jason is doing more of punching him in the face until he bleeds than actually holding him).

–he was a fucking kid with a life ahead of him why Cupid you bastard–

"It's okay." Arms wrap around her, tucking her head under a chin. A jacket is pulled down slightly so that her cheek is up against probably warm skin with the intention of heating her up. Lips press against her temple and she's being rocked back and forth. "You did everything you could," Calypso whispers. "It's okay. It's not your fault."

–oh how wrong you are it's all my fault I'm a bastard that doesn't deserve any of you you don't deserve this–

"It's okay," Calypso murmurs, repeating it like a mantra. "It's okay. It's okay."

Annabeth knows what she's doing. She did the exact same thing when Sofia died; comforting everyone else so that she didn't have to dwell on her own feelings.

–it's all my fault everyone should hate me why did I bring you into this dammit Cupid–

The frost covering the ice (as nobody had the strength to carry her or Leo's bodies off the river) crackles under someone's feet. A hand sooths over her hair.

"Piper just got off the phone with the police," Percy says, running his fingers through her sopping wet locks. "They're gonna be here any minute now. We had to pull Jason off Leo's…the guy before he killed him."

Nodding but not really listening, Rachel tugs off Annabeth's boots and socks, replacing them with her and–probably? Annabeth thinks she was wearing one–Hazel's warm, winter hats so that she doesn't get frostbite. Technically, she can't, but Annabeth knows what she's thinking.

She knows what they're all thinking. All three of them are doing the exact same thing. Taking care of her to escape the pain.

"I'm sorry!" Annabeth finally blurts with a dry sob. "I-I'm sorry–I didn't–it's my–I couldn't–Fault–I-I-I-I–" She can't get the words out. It feels like all her anger, anger at Cupid, anger at herself, has rolled into a ball and set itself in her throat.

"Hey, hey, shh," Percy coos. "It's not your fault. You did everything you could. It's not your fault."

"You're wrong," she mutters, moving away from Calypso so that she can bury her face in his shoulder. His scent calms her, but only a little, as her nose is already tainted with the smell of the blood on her hands. "You're wrong. You're all wrong."

They continue to sooth her, like she's just a kid mumbling nonsense. And they believe that it is nonsense. But it's her fault. It's all her fault.

She should leave. She should leave them alone forever.

But she can't bring herself to do it.

;

The police arrive after many minutes of repeating "You're wrong." They handcuff the guy, and almost go for Jason when they see the blood on his knuckles, but Piper informs them that he was angry. He gets a full pat down and is shown to a different car than the rest, but no cuffs.

Leo's body and killer are loaded up. Piper, Hazel, Calypso, and Rachel go in one car, while Annabeth, Percy, and Frank climb in the other. It's a tad tight, due to Frank's size, but the officers make sure they fit.

The ride to the precinct is silent, just like two weeks ago. Frank (not really Leo's best buddy, as Annabeth detected slight tension when Hazel was around both of them, but Leo had obviously moved on with Calypso and then they became friends) and Percy shed tears and whisper amongst themselves, and Annabeth broods in the far seat.

Soon enough, they're sitting in the same plastic seats a couple of them were two weeks ago. The detectives sort the witnesses into levels of significance towards the victim (significant other, family members, friends). Leo and Frank could technically be considered cousins, Annabeth learns, but they're, like, four times removed, or something, so Calypso goes in for questioning first.

"Wait!" Calypso cries. "Annabeth–She jumped in, too. To-to save–try to save–Leo."

Percy nods. "She needs a doctor!" he insists, rubbing up and down Annabeth's arm in an attempt to warm her. "She's freezing! And-and could be contracting hypothermia!"

She has a spark of irritation. Only she knows when she's freezing, so why can Percy talk for her? This had been one of the reasons why she'd been wary of getting a husband. Having a man speak for her all the time…Pfft. Like she'd let that happen.

A police officer kneels and front of her and presses the back of his palm to her forehead. "You're ice cold," he mutters, under his breath, before nodding at Percy. "We'll get your girlfriend a doctor right away, son."

"She's not my girl…" Percy protests, but the police officer has already stood up and walked away. Rachel glares daggers at the officer's back for even suggesting such a thing. "…friend."

The words sting. Annabeth arches away from Percy's touch, shifting closer to Frank. "Y-y-you m-might be called i-in next," she suggests–though Percy is probably pretty low on the 'to-be-interrogated list, since he's just a friend–feigning chattering teeth. "Wh-who knows? This g-g-gu-guy might be w-who killed Bi-Bianca, t-too."

Frank–bless the giant teddy bear–wraps an arm around her shoulders so that she doesn't have to look at Percy anymore. Hazel gives Annabeth her bright purple jacket, but the thought is appreciated.

Jason goes to be interrogated next, then Frank. Annabeth almost thinks that Percy will try to warm her up again, but Hazel slides over in place of her boyfriend and cuddles the blond into her bony side.

Parents come in. It's déjà vu when Sally tackles Percy with a hug, and when Mr. and Mrs. di Angelo are silent but comforting, and when Rachel stares at the doors, willing her parents to show up. They don't.

A dark-skinned woman in doctor's scrubs comes in with Mr. Grace. She rushes over to the plastic chairs and kneels in front of Annabeth.

"You're Annabeth Chase?" she asks, and Annabeth nods, trying to look miserable. She pulls herself off of Hazel. "I'm Dr. Maheswaran."

Those are the only words she says before proceeding with Annabeth's impromptu checkup. She gets a hand on her head and all her toes and fingers checked for frostbite. With a nod from Annabeth, the doctor unzips her jackets and pushes them aside, but not off her shoulders.

"This might be cold," Dr. Maheswaran warns, taking a stethoscope out from her bag. She places it around her head and pushes her hand under Annabeth's T-shirt, setting it over her heart.

Dr. Maheswaran listens for a moment, before her eyes widen, and she pulls herself and her stethoscope away. "No heartbeat…" she mutters, and Annabeth panics because shit–she forgot about that. Shit. Shit. Shit.

She cringes, waiting to be called out on her still heart, but Dr. Maheswaran just grumbles "Darn hospital budget cuts," and storms over to a trashcan to throw away the stethoscope. She kneels in front of Annabeth again.

"Sorry," she says, checking for frostbite on the blonde's fingers again. "I don't have an extra. We'll just have to assume you're normal. I give your parents' permission to sue if you die."

Dr. Maheswaran leaves after giving her a pair of real shoes and deeming her cold, but miraculously healthy. Frank comes back, and then Annabeth is only taken to a detective's desk for questioning, because Dr. Maheswaran had said that being in a freezing interrogation room would give her frostbite.

She passes a man with a beard speaking with a detective and overhears the name Leo–probably Leo's dad–when being led back to the chairs. She settles herself in between Frank and Percy, and waits.

And waits.

And waits a bit longer.

Until Leo's dad nods at the detective one last time and makes his way over to the chairs. He clears his throat. "Which one of you is Annabeth Chase?"

Everyone points at her before she can identify herself. "Me," she says anyway.

Leo's dad drops to his knees in front of her, taking her hands into his much larger, more calloused hands. "I am Hephaestus. Thank you, for trying to save my son Leo," he whispers, a watery wobble to his voice and even more water in his eyes.

"Oh. Well…" Annabeth shifts in her seat. "…I didn't really save him, did I? So…no need to thank me."

Hephaestus shakes his head. "You dived into the water without a thought other than the intent to save my son. That is true bravery. Even if he didn't…" He gulps. "…didn't make it, I still get to bury his body, get to say goodbye one last time. So, yes, I do need to thank you.

"Here." Hephaestus stands and reaches around his neck. He unfastens a chain and holds it up for Annabeth to see. Strung on it is a golden band with a single, large fire red ruby on it. An engagement ring. "This has been passed down my family for generations. Leo was supposed to give it to the one he intended to marry. I wish for you to have it."

"M-me?" If Annabeth could blush, she would have. She's so shocked that she forgets to fake chattering teeth. "B-but won't you need it? For future generations?"

Hephaestus shakes his head again. "Leo was my only child." He sucks in a deep breath as a single tear rolls down his cheek. "Our family ends with me."

"B-b-but." I killed your son. I killed your son. Do not give this to me. I killed your son. She glances to the side. "Wouldn't Leo want Calypso to have it?"

"You recovered his body. My son would want you to have it."

"Calypso?" Annabeth asks weakly. I killed Leo. Don't let him give this to his murderer.

But Calypso only smiles sadly. "Hephaestus is right. Leo would want you to have it. He'll already be guarding me in the afterlife. That's enough for me."

"B-but–" Annabeth looks at Calypso, then Percy, then Hephaestus. All seem to want her to take it. "Fine," she sighs. Hephaestus looks a tad cheered up as Annabeth lets him put the chain around her neck.

"It looks wonderful on you," he praises.

She fiddles with the ring resting on her collar bone–a token from her latest victim. "Yeah. I guess."

He gives her one last sad smile before turning serious again. "That's not the only reason I came over here.

"The man–Jonathon Smith–the one who-who pushed Leo? The police ransacked his apartment. There were pictures and videos of Leo taken from afar, and arrows; ones that matched the one that killed your friend, Bianca. From what the detectives gathered, Smith was a stalker of Leo's, and he thought that Bianca and Leo were the ones dating. He got jealous of Bianca, then he got angry at Leo because he learned that you, Calypso, and him were dating, and he…well."

"Oh my gods." Calypso covers her mouth, a fresh batch of tears rolling down her cheeks. "Oh my gods." Piper pulls her into a tight hug and lets her sob against her neck, running a hand up and down her back.

"The–uh–the detective said that the 'good news' was that they are going to have Jonathan Smith locked away for a long time. He won't be able to bother any of you anymore."

Annabeth's breath hitches. Her eyes find Percy. Could it be…? Is Cupid really done? Does Percy…love me?

"Annabeth?" Hephaestus says, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Do you have a ride home? I notice that your parents aren't here."

"I'll drive her home," Sally volunteers. "We live in the same apartment building." Hephaestus nods at her, says his goodbye to Annabeth, Calypso, Jason, and Piper, and then leaves with tears streaming down his face.

"C'mon," Sally says, offering her arm to help Annabeth up. "The police gave everyone the go-ahead to go home."

Parents come over and take away their individual children. Jason has to stay overnight, just to be sure. Annabeth, Percy, and Rachel are left, so Sally leads them to her car.

"You can sleep in our apartment tonight, Rachel," she offers, and Rachel nods. Annabeth climbs in first and leans her head on the glass, lost in thought.

Does Percy love me? Is that it? Did Cupid finally stop?

They pull up to the complex before Annabeth notices they drove anywhere.

Instead of climbing the fire escape, Sally leads the three through the lobby (earning a weird look from the man at the desk) and then to the elevator. This place has an elevator? Annabeth had never noticed that. She'd never been through the lobby before, and down any of the halls.

They arrive in Percy's apartment. "Annabeth, dear," Sally says, turning to her, "I'll set up the couch for you. Rachel…I trust you and Percy to be in the same bed. But no funny business!"

Annabeth frowns and shifts her weight, feeling…misplaced, in this situation. Rachel perks up, a little. "Really, Ms. Jackson? Thank you!" She takes Percy's hand and goes to lead him to his room, but Sally stops them.

She approaches Annabeth to feel for her temperature. "Before you go, could you draw a bath for Annabeth, dear?" she requests, a worried look on her face. "She's still freezing."

"Of course." Percy nods and dashes off.

"And, Rachel, could you find pajamas for both you and Annabeth?"

"Yeah. C'mon, Beth." Rachel grabs her hand and takes her down the hallway. She nudges open the door to Percy's room and strolls in like she owns the place. She leaves Annabeth in the middle of the room to dig through Percy's clothes.

Annabeth takes this time to look around. Percy's room is very…Percy. It's blue, with a bookshelf filled with movies instead of books. He has Finding Nemo curtains that must be from when he was, like, five, and a matching fishy blanket on his bed. There's clothes all over the floor and she feels the soft green carpet when she curls her toes.

"You got any preference, Beth?" Rachel asks.

"Hmm?" She turns from where she's studying a picture of Percy, Calypso, and Bianca. It's obviously from when the latter two are dating, because Bianca has her arm around the caramel-haired girls' waist, while Percy stands apart from them awkwardly, clearly the third wheel. "No. Though a pair of his bigger pants would be nice."

She looks back at the picture, at Bianca's smiling face, at Calypso's, at Percy's. When was the last time he smiled?

"I was supposed to go with them to the lake that day," Rachel says suddenly next to her ear. She jumps. "But I caught a cold. Percy complained for days about how he was the third wheel…Well, fifth, since Leo and his then-girlfriend Khione were there, too."

"Oh," Annabeth replies. Rachel hands her a set of folded up pajamas, tucking another under her arm. "Leo dated before Calypso?"

"Yeah. There was Khione, and then Drew, but they were bitches who used him. Reyna was great, but she was kind of distant. Calypso was the first one who really…cared for him. Loved him. Reyna could have, but she moved to California before the feelings got too deep," Rachel adds.

"Ah." She nods.

"So…" The redhead nudges her with her elbow, trying to lighten the mood. "You got any exes?"

"Me? No."

"Really?" Rachel inquires, sounding genuinely surprised. "I thought you would have attracted all the boys–and girls. You've got that whole tortured hero bit going on that makes teenagers drop like flies."

Annabeth scoffs and rolls her eyes, but something pangs in her chest, thinking of Argus and Lou Ellen. "Yeah…No. Nothing like that."

"You suuuuuure?"

"Yes."

"Are you suuuuurely sure?"

She sighs. "Fine. There was this one guy. One or two kisses. A couple Sunday drives. But he doesn't count, because we never had a talk about what we were before I…left," she finishes lamely.

Rachel looks like she's about to say something, place her hand on Annabeth's arm to be comforting or something, but Percy pokes his head in. "Bath is ready," he informs her.

"Thanks." She shrugs off his jacket and throws it at him. "And thank you for lending me that," she says as she passes him to go to the bathroom down the hall. He offers her a tired smile; one that highlights the bags under his eyes.

"Do you need any help?" Rachel questions.

She nudges open the bathroom door and shakes her head. "I'll be fine. Frostbite-free, remember?" She gives a thumbs-up as if to prove her point before she locks the door behind her.

Sighing, she strips out of her clothing and checks the tub. It's full of steaming water–but Annabeth can't feel the heat when she slips in, so Percy just wasted his time (and some money on the water bill) on her.

She lathers soup onto a sponge (just because she can't feel heat doesn't mean she can't get filthy) and thinks.

Jonathan Smith was caught. Does this mean Cupid is done? That Percy loves her? She scrubs the grime off her arm. She needs to talk to Cupid, but when? Percy and Sally and Rachel will be watching her like hawks, probably, and Sally will never let her out at this hour of the night with potential frostbite. And Annabeth doesn't have the plausible alibi of calling her parents, since everyone thinks she's an orphan. Fetching clothes is another one she can't use, because Percy's are waiting for her on the vanity.

Hmmm…

She'll just have to sneak out.

A suddenly thrill goes through her at the thought. She's never snuck out before. When she was alive she never dreamed about it, and when she was dead, before she met Percy…well, there was no one who would notice her absence.

She remembers stories from her friends–how Jason scaled his wall, how Piper spent ten minutes opening a door so that it wouldn't creak, how Nico thought he was turning on a light, but then the garbage disposal woke everyone in the house and he was busted. More stories flash through her mind that make her chuckle to herself and–Damn.

She deflates. She looks down at the scalding water that doesn't burn her nerves because there are no nerves to burn, and then traces her fingers over the scar tissue on her side.

I really missed out, didn't I?

;

Sneaking out is easier than anticipated.

Percy and Rachel are already fast asleep when she passes his room, spotting them sprawled out on his bed. (She gags a little…and glares…and thinks jealous thoughts…) Sally towels her hair for her and tucks her in, needing to do something with her nervous energy. Tyson is already holed up in his room.

Sally comes in hourly to check on her, leaving when she believes Annabeth is sleeping, not feigning it, until about three in the morning. Annabeth waits until she's sure Sally isn't coming, and then wriggles out of the blanket burrito she had been rolled up in.

She sneaks over to a window. She doesn't have to worry about it squeaking, because she phases right through. She catches herself before she falls, and glides over to a building across the street.

Cupid is already there when Annabeth touches down. He gives her a charming, slimy smile. "That necklace looks wonderful on you, Annabeth Chase," he says smoothly.

"Fuck you," she replies.

"Ho, ho, ho. Cranky, aren't we?" He tsks. "Are you running on too little sleep? …Oh, wait." His smile turns into a mocking grin.

She glares and clenches her fists. "Jonathan Smith was caught," she says. "Does that mean Percy…Does that mean that you're done?"

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" Cupid takes a few steps forward. He raises his hand to halt all her movements, in case Annabeth would lash out. She really does want to punch him in the face.

"You know," he says, circling her, "you really inspired me in our last conversation. That whole 'fool whom just got kicked out of his partner's apartment' bit? A wonderful idea."

Annabeth's eyes strain to widen, and her still heart drops. You didn't…

Cupid nods, a proud smile on his face. "I did…Well, technically, the roles were reversed, since there needed to be someplace to plant the evidence, but the same gist."

He leans in close. "You just sent an innocent man to jail. How do you feel?" He snaps his fingers, and the feeling in Annabeth's tongue and jaw return.

If she had saliva, she would spit in his face. She has to settling for snarling. "Like you're the one who sent an innocent man to jail," she growls, but something in her chest twists and aches.

He just continues giving her that smug, knowing, slimy smile. "Well," he says, "if you're just not going to be in a good mood, I'll take my leave."

He goes to walk off the building. She'll regret it later, pleading with him, but she has to know. "Wait!" she calls. He turns to her with a raised eyebrow and a hmm? "You…never answered my question."

"What? If Percy loves you yet or not?" he taunts. "You would like that, wouldn't you? Him falling for you're…now, what did his girlfriend say? You're 'tortured hero' bit?"

"So, that's a no, then?"

"Look at you, so disappointed. I almost feel sorry for you," Cupid croons. "Though, if you want to know if a certain someone has feelings for you…" He pauses to give her another knowing grin. "Well, I'd better not spoil that. What would be the fun in my game then?"

And with that, he jumps off the building.

;

1883

"Mal-colm!" Annabeth sing-songs, skipping over to his, Luke's, and the twins' room. She sticks her head in, about to say Malcolm's name again, but there's no one in there. She frowns. "Malcolm?"

Pulling herself away from the frame, she pads down the hall, calling his name. She goes downstairs. "Ma," she starts.

"Mother," Athena corrects.

Annabeth nods absent-mindedly. "Right. Do you know where Malcolm is?"

"He's playing outside with the new boy. Why, dear?"

She frowns. Did he forget already? "Thanks, Ma!" she says instead of answering, dashing away.

"Mother!" Athena shouts after her.

Once outside, Annabeth glances around for her brother. She catches sight of him at the edge of the property, near the treeline, and scampers over to him. "Malcolm!" she calls, hopping onto his back.

"Gah!" he shouts. He stumbles, clearly alarmed, before catching his own balance and tucking his hands under her knees, keeping her in place on his back. "Annabeth!" he scolds. "Don't jus' sneak up on a fellow like that!"

She wraps an arm around his neck and pokes his ear. "Well, don' jus' forget your promises like that!" She shoves her finger roughly against his cheek, causing him to cry out again.

"Hey! Stop–that!" Malcolm paws at her arm and even lets go of her legs, but she stays on. She pokes his cheek again.

And then she's being lifted up off Malcolm, into the air, before finally being placed on the ground. "Hey!" she squeaks, struggling against the bigger hands on her upper arms.

"Now, I'm sure that we can come to an agreement." A blinding smile shines down on her. The owner of this smile is a boy that Annabeth has never seen before. The new boy, Lee Fletcher, most likely. He has almost platinum blond hair and green eyes, with a little ring of gold around the pupils when Annabeth looks closely. The boy releases her. "Right?"

Malcolm nods. "Annabeth? What was that about?"

She crosses her arms in front of her chest and pouts. "Yesterday, ya promised ta play army wit me tomorrow evening. Well, now it's tomorrow, an' you didn't hold true!"

He winces, a grimace crossing his face. "Oh. Right," he says. "I'm real sorry 'bout that."

"You better be."

Malcolm shares a look with Lee Fletcher, who looks uncomfortable to be the battlefield of this sibling feud. "H-hey! How 'bout ya play with us?" Lee Fletcher suggests.

She glances up at him through her bangs. "Really?"

"Well, of course!" Malcolm agrees quickly. "We were jus' about ta go into the woods and explore. We could…play army there."

"Yeah, okay!" Annabeth nods and tugs on her brother's sleeve. "C'mon!" She passes through the treeline, followed closely by her Malcolm and Lee Fletcher. "First, since we're gonna be playin' army, we need a base of op-er-ations," she informs them, slowly sounding out the word she just learned from Luke.

"Sounds like a plan, Beth." Malcolm smiles at her, relieved.

"I'll be headin' out this way, while you two go search over there?" Lee Fletcher says. "But stay wit-in shouting distance."

They siblings nod before they depart from Lee Fletcher. They pass through bushes and duck under trees, and Malcolm or Lee Fletcher shout every once in a while, just to make sure they don't stray too far.

Annabeth climbs on top of a fallen tree trunk, suspended slightly in the air from how it fell on another pine. It shakes and smells like rotting wood, so Malcolm grabs her hand to help her balance.

"I'm sorry 'bout skippin' out on you like that," Malcolm apologizes again. "Jus'…Lee was lookin' like a sad frog at school, so I asked 'im ta play."

Annabeth shrugs, but then she slips, so she focuses on balancing instead. "It's fine. I'm over it."

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Malcolm smiles at her. "Good. I–"

"Ey, Chases!"

The shout cuts him off. Annabeth startles, and loses her footing. Malcolm catches her and carefully puts her back on the ground.

"Knew ya shouldn't 'ave been climbin' that thing," he grumbles, before returning the shout with one of his own. "What, Lee?"

"You guys gotta see this! I found somethin'."

Annabeth perks up and sprints off in the direction of his voice. "Race you!"

"Hey! Annabeth, wait up!" She slows down a little for Malcolm. (No way is he going to beat her, anyway.)

Soon, they burst through the treeline of a small clearing, and find Lee Fletcher looking quite pleased with himself as he strikes a dramatic pose, highlighting the run-down shed next to him.

"Woah! Ain't this nifty." Malcolm approaches the shed. "Looks like some ol' school house."

"Probably," Annabeth agrees. Lee Fletcher grabs a tiny piece of glass–the remains of a schoolgirl's mirror, most likely–from inside. He bites his lip as he carves something Annabeth can't see from this angle into the wood of the doorway.

"Look!" He takes a few steps back so that the siblings can see.

LF

MC

AC

"See?" Lee Fletcher says, tapping the glass on the spot in-between his and Malcolm's initials. "Now we own it!" He's smiling proudly, and Annabeth returns it with one of her own.

But when she looks at Malcolm, he's looking down at his shoes, rose dusting his cheeks.

;

1884

They bury Sofia two days after she dies.

It's nothing special–only the family and the Graces, and a poor excuse for a gravestone in the byard. Not what Sofia deserves, Annabeth thinks, but it's the best they can do.

Argus holds her for a good five minutes, muttering apologies into her temple. Thalia hugs her for just as long, though her "You're gonna be fine. You'll see,"'s are whispered into her hair. Mr. Grace gives a round of sympathetic smiles and pats on the shoulders, and then they're gone.

Luke takes up Thalia's offer to look for something to do in town. Athena buries her face in her hands and sobs. Frederick leads her inside, and Bobby and Matthew follow like lost puppies. Malcolm is gone, disappearing into the woods, as soon as the funeral is over.

Annabeth sits on the porch, knees tucked to her chest, staring intently at the gravestone. She tries to will Sofia out of the grave with her eyes. It doesn't work.

Luke comes back a little after sunset. Annabeth doesn't glance away from the grave, but she allows Thalia to wrap her arms around her and whisper, "It's okay. I'm sorry," into her ear.

Then she's gone, too. Luke sits next to her on the porch.

"We saw these skirts in'a shop," Luke says, after a several long moments of silence. "They were a bit girly fer my tastes, but ya might like 'em."

"I don't need ta be girly anymore," Annabeth mumbles bitterly against her knees. "No one to role model for, member?"

Cautiously, he places a hand on her shoulder. "If you want ta talk 'bout it–"

"Well, I don't!" she snaps, standing up to brush him off and walking away.

"Annabeth!" She doesn't turn around. "ANNABETH!" He grabs her shoulder and forces her to look at him. She stubbornly stares anywhere but his face–his chest, their shoes, her hands, anywhere.

"You need ta talk about it," Luke states seriously. "If you jus' keep it all bottled up–You're gonna explode."

"No I won't! Leave me alone!" she shouts, shoving him away before taking off.

"Annabeth, wait!"

But she keeps running, running, running, into the woods. She follows the path that she and Lee and Malcolm have taken a lot over the past year. She just wants–needs to be alone.

She trips on the root of one of the last trees until the clearing. She falls on her face, right in a patch of clovers. "Ow," she complains, rubbing dirt off her nose, and gets up to walk over to the run-down shed.

She tries to take comfort as she drags her fingers over the familiar shape of her initials. As she goes to trace over Malcolm's, she finds a new line etched in the wood. When she looks at it, she realizes it's a heart, surrounding his and Lee's initials.

Why?

She furrows her eyebrows, half-glad that this new investigation takes her mind off of Sofia.

"Annabeth!" Luke charges through the treeline at full speed, but slows down to take in the scenery. "What is this place?"

"Come 'ere," she says. Once his does, she points at the heart. "See that? Those are Malcolm's initials, and those are Lee Fletcher's."

He leans over her shoulder, an equally puzzled expression on his face. "Why is there'a heart coverin' 'em?"

She shrugs. "Like I know."

He takes a step back to survey the structure. "Is this you guy-es…'club house'?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"It looks a little…unsafe, fer you to be spendin' your time 'ere."

She nearly rolls her eyes. "It's fine, Brother. It's build like a–a bunker. No sound gets in or out. I can show ya the inside ta prove it." Without waiting for his answer, she opens the door slowly, ready to pretend to be a butler, but when she sees Malcolm and Lee, she flings it the rest of the way open.

Malcolm has Lee pressed up against a wall with their lips connected, kissing. Lee's arms are wrapped around Malcolm's neck while his have settled themselves on the blonde's waist.

…Until the door slams open and Luke screams "Holy shit!", to which they quickly jump apart.

The four all stare at each other with wide eyes, tears starting to fill both Malcolm and Lee's. "I'm sorry!" Lee cries. He practically shoves Annabeth out of the way so that he can make his escape.

"Annabeth, Luke," Malcolm breathes, like he's just remembered they are there.

"What the hell, Malcolm?!" Luke finally demands, grabbing Malcolm by the collar of his shirt and dragging him out of the shed.

"Hey!" Annabeth squeaks in protest. She tries to get in between the two, but Luke has a tight hold and Malcolm's doing nothing but hysterically sobbing.

"Are ya tryin' ta get killed?!" Luke continues. "ARE YA TRYIN' TO GO TO HELL?!"

"No!" Malcolm blubbers, barely able to get anything out through his tears. "I was just–We were–I–PLEASE DON'T TELL ANYONE!" he finally cries out.

"Then you don't do that anymore, you understand me?!" Luke shakes him violently, and Malcolm nods and cries and begs for forgiveness.

"I'm sorry! Yes! I understand! I-I won't do…that anymore!"

"Good." He seems to have calmed down, and lets Malcolm go. "Because I'd hate to lose a sibling."

"Please don't tell anyone!" Malcolm repeats, still shaking and sobbing.

"I won't. I promise. If you won't do that anymore."

"But…why?" Both her brothers turn to Annabeth.

"Why what?"

"Why don't ya want ta tell anyone?" she asks, her eyebrows furrowed again.

"Because it isn't natural," Malcolm mutters. To her or himself, she doesn't know. "Because it's a sin. It's a sin. A terrible sin."

"But…" She frowns. "I could see how happy Lee made ya, just like how happy Ma makes Pa. Ya always smile when he's 'round. It's…love. What's tha sin in that?"

Luke kneels in front of her and cups her hands in his. "Annabeth," he says sternly. "Tha sin Malcolm jus' committed is a horrible one. Ya mustn't tell anyone, or he'll…Bad things 'ill happen, to him and Lee. Ya have ta promise not ta tell anyone."

"But…"

"Pro–mise. Now."

She glances at Malcolm, still crying, and remembers Lee, how fast he ran away. She looks back at Luke.

"Yeah. Okay. I'll not tell anyone."

;

2015

Sneaking back in is just as easy as sneaking out. Annabeth phases through the window, floats to the couch, and wraps herself into the blanket burrito again. No one would be able to tell the difference.

And they don't.

Percy, Rachel, and Sally all greet her miserably once they get up in turn. Tyson doesn't come out of his room.

Annabeth helps Sally make pancakes she can't eat, helps Rachel find clothes, and helps Percy out of bed.

She wants to leave after breakfast, needing to be alone, but Sally insists that she stay another day, so she does. Rachel does, too.

The three of them–Annabeth, Rachel, Percy–mope around all day. They watch movies to numb their minds, and…that's pretty much it.

Percy pats the seat next to his on the couch, but Annabeth refuses it and lays out on the floor. It'd be torture, anyway, sitting so close to him, but so far away, as he cuddles with Rachel.

;

Annabeth is back in her own apartment the morning after. She doesn't even stay for breakfast.

She lays on the floor and stares at the ceiling, but before she can start her Cupid-hating and self-hating extravaganza, there's a knock on her window.

A sigh escapes her lips as she pulls herself on her feet again. "Sally," she starts as she walks over, loud enough to be heard on the other side, "the hospitality is appreciated, but you're going to catch a cold in this…snow."

Instead of finding Sally on her fire escape, she finds Calypso, shaking and shivering with a backpack thrown over one shoulder and snow blanking both of them.

"C-c-can I-I c-c-come in?" Calypso asks, and Annabeth realizes she's been doing nothing but staring dumbly at her.

"Yeah! Yes, yes of course." She moves out of the way and offers Calypso her hand. She takes it, and the angle she gets down at is awkward, so some of the snow dumps right onto Annabeth.

"Sorry," Calypso mutters, touching her flip-flop-clad feet to the carpet.

"Holy shit, you're freezing." Probably. Annabeth can't feel Calypso's body temperature, but going by her blue lips, she guesses that Calypso's pretty cold. She starts to help brush the snow off the shorter girl. "What are you doing out in this weather in flip-flops?"

"It was the first pair of shoes I could find," is her explanation. Calypso busies herself with wiping the snow that had fallen down the front of Annabeth's shirt.

"No. Seriously, Calypso. What the hell?"

"That sounds kinda nice right now," Calypso tries to joke, but then she sniffs suddenly. Tears well up in her eyes, but she doesn't let them flow.

"My dad…He never wanted me to date Leo, or Bianca for that matter. He was okay about Bianca's death, but now, he's rubbing Leo's death in my face, and I just–I couldn't take it anymore and I…left." Her words are quick and short and choppy, but Annabeth gets the gist of it.

"Are you…okay?" she asks hesitantly.

"Yeah. I'm fine." Calypso nods, and Annabeth doubts either of them are fooled. "I just…really could use a place to stay. And a friend. And you were the first one I thought of."

Annabeth blinks. Calypso wants to…live with her? She came to her for comfort? An almost-warm feeling bubbles up in her chest at the thought of being needed by a friend.

"Yeah. Of course you can. I've got all this extra space. I could use a little company," she says, and Calypso beams at her. "Now, c'mon. Let's get you warmed up, yeah?"

Until the morning, she doesn't realize how absolutely wrong this arrangement could go. For both of them.

AN: *takes deep breath* Ah, the smell of crack ships, still fresh in the air.

So. Who do you think Cupid will kill next? Or even if he will? I'd love to hear your theories. (Though this doesn't mean I'm admitting or denying anything…)

This was not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. If you find any spelling or grammatical errors, please inform me so I may fix them.

Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or any other product I might have mentioned. The title of this fic was taken from Bastille's song Laura Palmer.

Constructive criticism welcome, and reviews FEED MY DEMONIC POWERS! BWA HA HA!