Chapter 2's up. Percy's chapter. Chapter 1 wasn't anyone's chapter in particular.

-L

Percy Jackson hated his life.

In fact, that was an understatement. Gaea and her forces had finally been defeated-and he had only spent a few short months (out of Tartarus and the Underworld) with Annabeth before she became comatose.

He felt downright miserable, sitting there in the infirmary of Camp Half-blood, waiting desperately for Annabeth to wake up. The satyrs brought food to him and did regular check-ups on her pulse to make sure that she was alive. When he thought that the satyrs weren't looking, he would give the food to the Hermes kid in the bed to right, who had a fractured leg bone and an enormous appetite. However, lately, that Hermes camper had started refusing the food that Percy offered to him, even if Percy swore that he heard the camper's stomach growling like a lion. It must've taken the camper a lot of willpower to reject Percy's offer.

The day that Annabeth became comatose, he remembered as clear as crystal. He had been in his cabin, Cabin Three, tidying up the mess of clothes, tissue paper and snack wrappers.

Two months ago:

Where was Tyson when Percy needed him? He was probably somewhere in Poseidon's palace, enjoying his snack of peanut butter sandwiches. Right then, Percy really needed his Cyclops half-brother to help him with the mess that was in Cabin Three. He regretted procrastinating last night and leaving everything to be cleared up the following morning (which was that morning). Percy only had a few minutes before Annabeth would come and inspect his cabin. He was really lucky that she had decided to start from the last cabin to the first.

He was contemplating whether he should chuck his favourite jeans under the bed (dusty, dusty) with the rest of his stuff when the door flew open with a bang.

Percy Jackson was so dead.

He swiveled around and hid his pair of jeans behind his back, hoping that Annabeth wouldn't notice. For extra precaution, he used his foot to prod the mess under the bed so that it would not tumble out at the most inappropriate of moments. Percy thought about sweet-talking his girlfriend into giving him an adequate mark, but froze when he saw who was at the door.

"Lacy, what are you doing here?" he asked the daughter of Aphrodite.

"Annabeth has fainted! Come, quick!" Lacy wheezed and grabbed Percy's wrist, trying to pull him out of the Poseidon Cabin. She didn't need to do so, because when Percy heard 'Annabeth' and 'fainted', he started to bolt out of his cabin, dragging a panting Lacy along.

When he burst into the Athena Cabin, he didn't see Annabeth anywhere, just a bunch of blonde kids staring at him like he was a madman. "WHERE'S ANNABETH?" Percy shouted desperately, even though he felt extremely stupid.

"Isn't she inspecting the cabins?" Marcus, Annabeth's half-brother, regained his composure and asked. Percy wanted to wring his neck and scream in his ear that Lacy said Annabeth had fainted. Wait a minute…

He whipped his head around and glared at the girl. "Is this some kind of joke?"

Lacy shook her head profusely, her eyes wide with fear. "No, Annabeth fainted in the Hecate Cabin!"

"WHAT?" This time, it was the Athena kids' turn to yell. Without another word, they rushed out of the cabin with Percy, dashing towards the said cabin.

The other campers were bewildered to see a crowd of blond-haired, grey-eyed kids (and a brown-haired, green-eyed Percy) stampeding towards the Cabin Twenty. Before they could react, Percy had already reached the Hecate Cabin and entered with the children of Athena following him.

"ANNABETH!" he wailed and fell on his knees. Piper McLean sat in the middle of the cabin, cradling the love of his life in her arms. She looked up at him, her expression full of anxiety. Darla and Clara Benitez, a pair of Hecate twins, stood to a side, their brows creasing with worry and confusion. Rachel Elizabeth Dare hovered over Annabeth, checking her pulse and her breath. Annabeth's face was ashen and her head had lolled over Piper's arm. Percy stumbled towards Piper and his girlfriend, barely managing to choke out, "W-what happened?"

Clara spoke, "Annabeth was inspecting our cabin when the eyes of Hecate's statue suddenly started glowing green-"

"-There was this voice, the voice of a woman, and it said something like-" Darla interrupted her twin.

"-It said something along the lines of 'you could have joined me and became a sorceress…I would have taught you all that I know…it's a pity…you shall suffer your curse…you cheated me…you should have been killed…'" Clara trailed off and gulped at what she had just said.

Chiron knew that Annabeth's curse had something to do with little 'visit' to Circe's island when she and Percy crossed the Sea of Monsters. Everything fitted so well; Circe had tried to convince her to become a sorceress, but Annabeth declined. With her quick wits, she managed to defeat Circe, turn Percy back into a human (not a squeaking guinea pig, fortunately with his clothes on), hug him and let loose a bunch of pirates. That's why he loved her so much. He had the most awesome girlfriend in the whole universe.

And she was in a coma.

Percy felt like face-palming-no, face-walling-and pummeling himself to death. His life without Annabeth was like a fish without water. Every breath was painful, and his throat burned like he had just gurgled firewater. Percy's heart ached with longing as he brushed a loose blond curl off the comatose Annabeth's cheek. He forbid himself from thinking that something worse would happen-but the thought slipped into his mind so easily, he almost didn't notice that he was thinking about Annabeth's death.

He had thought that the Fates were cruel to make them fall into Tartarus shortly after they had reunited. He had thought that he must have been really miserable to think of the days when Kronos rose as happy days. If Percy had known that this would happen, he would have jumped voluntarily into a Maeonian drakon's mouth, any day. Right then, he was on the verge of suicide, and the only thing that kept him from barreling head-first into the nearest wall was the tiny sliver of hope that Annabeth would become conscious again.

Ah, hope. It was a dangerous thing to hope, Percy knew. Hope was what came with the various kinds of disasters when they poured out of Pandora's Box (well, technically, it wasn't a box, but the mortals called it one). Hope was what kept the innocent people praying and seeking help from various gods; hope was what kept the soldiers on the battlefield when they were already injured and exhausted. The hope to live in a better world.

Percy hoped that he could live in a better world. A world where there was no danger, no evil and where he and Annabeth could be with each other. However, the Fates weren't born to play fair and square. They had their own way of doing things, and were as fickle as water. Well, they were born from three drops of Ouranos' blood when he got chopped into bite-sized bits by his son, Kronos. Not exactly a filial son, eh?

With the person he cared about most in a comatose (actually, Annabeth was on the top of his list with his mother), Percy's sanity hung by a thread. Sometimes, he would break down (once in front of Chiron, and that was an embarrassing experience) and cry tears that would last him for a lifetime. Even in his sleep, Annabeth's face haunted his dreams. The ghost of her smile would appear in his mind's eye from time to time, making his heart skip a beat before it sunk even lower than before in his chest.

His life was like the Labyrinth.

And boy, did he hate his life.