Neither of us looked like we wanted to close that door, but Annabeth not being capable of standing was a pretty convincing argument.

Not that she didn't try, because she certainly did, but the second she tried to put any pressure on her left leg, she crumpled. I could see blood beginning to stain the leg of her pants about down the shin. An old gash must have opened up sometime in the fight, and judging by the amount of blood that had already soaked through her pant leg, it must have been a nasty one.

She made a face and spit out some more of that foreign language(latin, maybe?) she used when she was unhappy, rolling up her pant leg carefully, wincing as she went. Eventually she pulled the pant leg all the way up to her knee, leaning down for a closer look at her bloodied leg.

If a cut could be furious, hers definitely fit the bill. It probably went deep, almost to the bone, around the edges it was crusty with scabs, and the skin surrounding it was red and puffy. It looked like she got it recently, and had probably just closed up naturally, and hadn't got anything close to treatment in the meantime.

Her head suddenly snapped to me and we made eye contact. She must have realized I'd been staring. Great, now she probably thinks I'm a creep, if that stupid cowgirl comment didn't make her think that in the first place. Oh, god, why did I even say that? I know I'm stupid, especially when I'm about to die, but that was a completely different level of stupid.

"Shit," I breathed, trying to shake away the nervous electricity lingering from the attack mixing with the sudden flush of embarrassment. "Shit, hold on, just, hold on." I heaved myself back on my feet, stumbling for a moment before i got my bearings.

I squinted at the door and saw my backpack lying next to a pile of gold dust that Definately-not-Mrs-Burtshulk left behind.

I looked back at Annabeth and held out my hand in a stopping motion. "Hold on," I repeated, dumbly, trying to sound reassuring. She raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth like she was about to say something, but I broke eye contact before she could begin, walking over to my backpack, and fishing it out of the pile of gold dust, and shaking off whatever residue clung to it.

I closed the door, giving the lock a little turn, which somehow worked, much to my pleasant surprise. I slug the backpack onto my shoulder, zipping it open and rummaging though it's contents as I shuffed nearer to Annabeth, eventually flopping down beside her. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her tense up and grip her knife a little tighter, but I ignored it.

Eventually, within the mess of granola bars(only slightly crushed, by the looks of it) I fished out the box of gauze, and the bottle of antiseptic spray. I uncapped the bottle of antiseptic and gave it a little shake.

"This'll sting," I mumbled, spraying a quick line down the length of her wound, earning a quick, quiet hiss from the girl. "couldn't get the nice stuff." I re-capped the bottle and placed it carefully back into the bag.

"That's fine by me." She said quietly. I could feel her studying my actions, waiting for me to make a wrong move. I couldn't blame her, I would do the same thing in the opposite situation. I opened up the box of gauze, tearing at the cardboard, and peered inside. Four rolls. I'd have to use it a bit sparingly if I wanted it to last, but that gash was a problem that needed attending to.

"You don't have to-" She started, her annoyed tone telling me that I had been staring at the open box long enough to look hesitant about helping her.

"It's fine." I waved her off, pulling out a roll from the box and slowly, carefully, beginning to dress her wound. If I wanted to bandage this thing remotely right, was going to need the entire role to tie it tightly, with no medical tape to secure it. It didn't bother me too terribly though, not after she just saved my ass, and especially not if she was going to explain everything to me.

"You've never dressed a wound before, have you?"

I blinked, not realizing I had been spacing out. What little work I had done on her leg was messy and looked like it was barely going to function as a bandage. I looked away sheepishly, and coughed. "Ah, well… No. No, not really." I didn't need to be looking at her to know she was rolling her eyes.

"You repeat yourself a lot." She said dryly, dropping her knife and taking hold of the bandages and shooing my hands off of them. I watched her bandage her gash with almost professional grace that had my cheeks flush in embarrassment. "Where'd you get these by the way?"

I took the box and tossed it back into my backpack, zipping it closed, shrugging. "Spent a few nights in a Rite Aid in Queens. Found both under some rubble in the stockroom. Most looters are actually pretty bad at leaving no stone unturned."

"And you are?" she asked with a grunt, knotting the gauze and securing it into position, with a fair amount of it still usable. She cut off the surplus with her ever-inconsistent knife, holding it out for me.

I shrugged again. "I'm more stubborn than most, at least." I took the leftover gauze and shoved it into the first little opening on the backpack I found that could fit it, which happened to be a little pocket on the strap.

"Well, thank the gods for that," She muttered, smoothing out her dressings and placing a cautious amount of weight on her leg. Pain twitched across her face and she tsk-ed.

"Can you even walk?"

Her grey eyes flashed angrily at me for a moment, and I could feel her barriers going back up, it was a struggle to not flinch on reflex. I wondered if I had somehow insulted her, but slowly, she exhaled, and the flash of anger slowly faded into the background noise of her impassive face. "Not as much as I'd like to be able to," She admitted slowly. "But I could if I needed to."

I scrunched my face and pursed my lips, studying her, glancing down at the ginger way she positioned her leg, and how quickly she rectified it when she caught me staring. Eventually, I sighed, shrugging my backpack higher up on my shoulder, and holding out my arms, opened palmed. She stared at them for a second, then threw me a perplexed expression. I groaned.

"C'mon."

"'C'mon' what?"

"You can't walk. I'll carry you."

She gave me another blank expression, studying me, before the corners of her mouth quirked up in the slightest of smiles, and she snorted. Like a splash of ice water to the face, I came to the abrupt realization that she wasn't just pretty, but seriously beautiful. She wasn't perfect, far from it, little scars old and new littered her body all over, but somehow, that made her look better. It's like the little smile drew all the imperfections together and smoothed them out, made her feel natural and beautiful at the same time. I felt like a cloud of butterflies had emerged somewhere in my large intestine. And this was just a half-smile. My mouth may have dropped just a bit.

"With those arms? Bridal style?" She said, shaking me out of my stupor. When I focused back on her, she had an obnoxious all-knowing, amused look on her face that shattered the golden image that I had just peaked at, and I scowled."Please, I can see them trembling. You botched the block in that fight and tried to stop the force instead of bending with it and parrying. You won't be carrying anything of significant weight for another few hours at least."

My eyebrows knit together, and my jaw locked as my lip threatened to curl up in a snarl. "Well maybe if you didn't leave me in the line of fire- swords, whatever, then maybe I would be able to carry you."

Her smile shattered, and a small part of me mourned the loss of that beautiful girl as the grizzled, angry one with the sour face came back."You're going to blame me-"

"You're the one who just told me to grab the fucking sword without any explanation." I interrupted, my hands retreating to my sides as balled fists.

Her eyes narrowed."Well, excuse me for not having the time to train your sorry ass on swordplay when I was busy trying to save both of our lives."

"Oh yeah, you were doing such a fine job on your own with this." I said, rolling my eyes and jabbing a finger at her bandages

"I wouldn't have had to do anything if you hadn't gotten all sentimental over this stupid Cabin and gone over to the other one."

"Listen here Chase," I growled, leaning in closer to the girl, grabbing her arm. "This cabin isn't stupid." I tried to sound intimidating, or at least tough, but my voice faltered near the end.

I imagined my mom's face, wrought with concern, pursing her lips, her eye prying for any answers she could get before she actually asked what was wrong. She hated seeing me upset, especially when we were at Montauk. Montauk was supposed to be our little escape, when things like being a low income single mother, or being the son of a low income single mother with no academic future in reasonable sight became too much to carry. It was a place where all the worries of the city weren't supposed to touch us.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes, blocking out Annabeth Chase. I needed to calm down. I was not going to lose it here.

I wrenched open my clenched fist, exhaling, and opened my eyes again, seeing Annabeth Chase, in all her fully guarded glory, leaning away from me, her hand raised like rubber band ready to snap. I released her from my grip with a sigh, looking away.

Tension rippled in the air, and like a wave it crumbled down on itself, turning into a harmless splash of sea foam. I looked down, and took another deep breath. I glanced up at her again, and she was eyeing me warily again, but the hand that had been raised was slowly falling back down to her side.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have grabbed you. It's just…" My fingers itched for a distraction, twitching wildly and painfully in hopes for something to come in to occupy them, but nothing could be found. "Me and my mom used to come here."

Recognition lit up on her face, and that seemed to bring her down just a bit. Thankfully, I didn't think I needed to explain any further, and hell, after my walk on the beach, I don't think I could. Everything still felt raw, even if my walk along the beach seemed a million miles away from where I was now.

I shuffled over to her side, and stretched an arm behind her.

"What are you-" She snapped, tensing all over again. God, she was touchy.

"You said I wouldn't be able to carry you bridal style, right?" I cocked my head to the side giving her a weak smile. "If you can't walk on that leg, then this the best I can do. Now, could you lift up your arm? This won't work without your help."

She stared at me, no saying a word, still calculating, and analyzing with that prying stare, but she lifted her arm for me nonetheless, picking her knife up from the floor in the process. I slipped my hand under her armpit and scooped her up, my other hand floating outwards stiffly in case she needed something to balance with, which, naturally she didn't. After a second of unsteady shifting on her feet, she found some relatively stable footing. She could probably make do with hopping if she needed to, but I'd been raised better than that.

"Room in the back has a bed." She muttered, testing a little weight on her bad leg.

"I know. It's my cabin, remember?"

"Keep telling yourself that, Jackson."

"Keep trying to deny it, Chase." I shot back. The words we shared should have felt light, almost friendly, but it was muddled by the lingering tension between us. You'd think that going through a life-or-death experience together would bond us for life immediately, or something, but, there was still a deep rift, and we were still strangers who barely knew each other's names.

We walked through the little dining room/kitchen of the cabin and it felt like a punch to my solar plexus. The room was brighter, golden rays of the setting sun filtering in through cracks in the closed blinds, giving the room a dim glow. The dining table was still there, but instead of the warm plate of blueberry pancakes that I had been used to, it was littered with paper, all running over each other and overlapping into a chaotic mess that reminded me far too much of my mom's desk in the few weeks before she sent in the copy of her novel that was approved for publication. Aside from that small detail, everything else was exactly how I would imagine it, a bit dusty and dreary, but that aesthetic came with the apocalypse.

We moved deeper into the cabin, down the hallway that lead into the rooms, and end of it I could see a door open, with a soft, unnatural glow coming from inside it. I stopped short for a quarter second. That was the room my mom would sleep in. I felt something approximately the size of a raccoon nest in my throat at the thought of entering it.

Annabeth, never missing a beat, spared a glance my way. "Something the matter?"

"S'nothing." I murmured, not willing to spare the glance back as I felt her eyes burning into me a little more so than usual. But thankfully, she didn't press.

When we hobbled into the room, the green lantern made me do a double-take.

The room was warm, far warmer than it had any right to be. The cabin was warmer than it was outside, since the ocean wind couldn't get in, but the cabin had never been built with the intention of people staying during the winter months. There was insulation, but it was minimal, and certainly not enough to warrant the sudden want to shed my jacket, and maybe the ratty sweatshirt I had underneath it as well. It was at least a good 60 degrees Fahrenheit in this room, and from what I could see, theonly possible source of heat was the small handheld lantern that glowed with green light.

Annabeth's elbow dug into my side. "Keep moving, or you'll be getting no explanation."

I gave her a sidelong glance, snorting, then turning my attention back to the lantern for another moment before shaking my head. After the day I've had, I was more than willing to just accept the magic green lantern without complaint. It made the room comfortable.

Together we walked the remaining few steps to the queen sized bed that had once been designated to my mom. The floorboards creaked in a belated 'welcome home' from the cabin. The same mattress was on the bed that I had always known, with that little, almost indistinguishable stain on it's side facing the entrance. We sat down on the side of the bed and I could hear her huff out a very subtle sigh she probably thought was hidden by the groan of the mattress.

The two of us untangled, and shifted away from each other. I slung my backpack onto the floor as she shifted back to put her bad leg up on the bed, re-inspecting the bandage. I started to pull off my jacket, before I remembered that the little flick knife I had been using was still securely in it's pocket.

I cast a quick glance over at Annabeth as she started to settle in, her knife lying at her side while she fussed with her wrappings, and I had to ask myself; Would she trust me now if she knew I had a weapon in my pocket, one that actually stabbed without fail? Do I trust her enough to be unarmed?

Immediately, the voice of my mom started nagging in the back of my head. 'Percy Jackson! I cannot believe you would be so ungrateful to this lovely young lady for saving your life.'

Oh yeah, lovely, I thought, it sure was lovely of her to stab me that first time.

The little voice came back softer this time. I could almost imagine her giving me a small smile, humoring my objections with just the tiniest hint of amusement that told me she did not approve in the gentlest way one can. 'Just try, okay Percy? She's giving you a chance, isn't she? The least you could do is try give her one too.'

I couldn't help but smile just a bit at that. Yeah, that's exactly what she'd say. Silently, I told her voice that I'd try my best.

Falling back into the pattern of slow, careful, and deliberate movements, I fished the knife out of my pocket, and gently tossed it a few feet away from the bed, it landing against the floorboards with a soft clink.

Annabeth gave me a scrutinizing look, eventually turning into something I would almost be crazy enough to consider impressed. I pulled my jacket off, and draped it on the bedpost. She rolled the leg of her pants back down, and a silence passed between us that was only a little tense, almost easy. Of course, it didn't last for more than a few seconds, but it was a miracle for edgy nerves. Annabeth was the one who decided to break the silence.

"So," She said, slowly, lacing her fingers, and toying with them idly. "I think it would be best if I started from the top, or otherwise, it probably, er, scratch that, it definitely won't make any sense."

"Alright," I nodded.

"Alright,"She echoed, her face scrunched up and her eyes flicked away, like she was thinking hard. It totally wasn't adorable. "What religion are you?"

I blinked. "What?"

"I asked what religion you are."

I gave her a look. "No, I get that, but, what does it have to do with anything?"

"Just answer the question, and I'll explain." She said, rolling her eyes.

"Look, I don't know, I never really thought about it." I shook my head, sighing harshly. "I celebrate Christmas."

"So you're Christian?"

"Not really,"

"Ugh," She groaned, tapping a finger on her knee impatiently. "Are you always this obtuse?"

I was pretty sure I wasn't an angle, so I didn't bother with a response. Though she must have caught my utterly lost expression, because she rolled her eyes again.

"Look," She said, shaking her head. "I'm not good at this, I'm not used to explaining this to people, just helping a few deal with it after they've had the news broken to them, so I'm just going to say it, alright?"

I nodded slowly.

"You know the Greeks myths, right? The Olympians, the heroes, the monsters."

"Uhh," I made a noncommittal gesture, shrugging. "Kinda, I guess."

I remembered a few from ancient history lessons from school. One of the few things that made history classes bearable were all the stories and myths we got to learn. That, and the fact that math reading were minimal in history classes in comparison to most other classes.

"They're real." Is what I heard, but I was certain that I had heard her wrong. I leaned back, turning all of my attention to her dangerously straight face.

"What?"

"The Olympians, the heroes, the monsters, all of them, real. All around you, in your daily life, they have been living, existing, fighting, warring, without you even noticing, but they're all real." She said, her face still the picture of stoicism.

A bubble of nervous laughter escaped my mouth, and I was suddenly wishing I had a T-shirt that read: 'I'm with crazy'. "What?" I repeated.

"I'm not repeating myself a third time." She huffed, crossing her arms and shooting a very unimpressed look my way.

I looked at her eyes. Grey and implacable, like a rock. I didn't see any hint of amusement on her face, and my psycho-detector was giving me infuriatingly mixed signals. What she said was crazy, but everything else about her all pointed to sanity. "But that's, that's impossible." I stammered.

Her lips puckered, and her eyebrows raised up slowly. "Really? After everything that just happened to you, you're still going to say it's impossible? I remember the phrase 'I cut off a snake woman's snake leg.' coming from you a minute ago, but the gods being real is where it becomes impossible?"

"That's," I tried to gasp out an argument. But there really wasn't one. there was no way to describe the snake women, except for monsters. "Thats…" I repeated numbly, my mind trying to clutch at an argument that refused to be found.

Normally when someone talks about monsters being real, you just blow them off, because monster are, well, monsters, not really anything. Just something kids are afraid live under their bed and don't pay rent. But the snake woman, that was a monster. I had just removed the limbs of a monster. And as if that wasn't weird enough, I had been stabbed in the chest by a monster, and there wasn't a single scratch on me that would indicate that was the case.

And if monsters are real, then who's to say that she's not being serious?

"But," I said, before my mind could follow up with more words, leaving a lengthy pause Annabeth graciously allowed. "How did we… not know? Those snake women- you don't just not notice something like that. How could I- anyone- not know about that?"

"The mist."

"The what?"

"The mist," She hissed, her fingers twitching and leg bouncing impatiently. "it's a veil that prevents mortals from seeing what's really going on and gives them something they can process rationally." she paused, her eyes going over to her knife, and her hand picking it up a moment later. "Tell me, what do you see?"

Confusion must have been permanently etched into my face by this point, because I tried to give her a confused look, but my face didn't move. "Your knife?"

"I mean specifically," She spat, like she had explained it clearly to begin with. "Describe it to me."

Reluctantly, I complied, only to find it was doing that thing, the flickering thing the snake women and the bat-sword did, but it was always a knife. It was switching between a coppery double-sided knife, more of a dagger, really, and an impressively long and sharp silver steak knife.

"How are you doing that?"

"That's the mist." She said, squinting at her knife-dagger thing for a moment before a slight recognition flickered across her face and she returned her eyes to me. "You can easily process me holding a steak knife as a weapon, a bronze knife is more difficult to rationalize. Your mind questions it, so the mist shows you something easier. I'd bet the sword you were using earlier didn't look like a sword at first."

"It was a baseball bat before I grabbed it, but..."

"Exactly," She nodded. "now, normally, the mist is pretty much ironclad for mortals, but from what I can guess, the mist is deteriorating. So when something starts to have direct relevance to you as a threat or to counteract a threat, your sense of self preservation is able to overpower the mist and show you what's actually going on. Normally, even if they're being attacked, mortals won't see monsters as monsters, just something else they would see as threatening."

I tried to let that sink in. People, people I could have known, could have been attacked or even killed by monsters, and no one was ever the wiser. I leaned over the side of the bed, cradling my head in my hands as I let out a shaky breath. "That's so fucked up." I shook my head, staring at the floor. "That's insane."

"Though," Annabeth muttered to herself, like words were leeching from her thoughts to her mouth. "why now? Did something happen to Hecate or do they just not…" Her eyes caught mine for a second, and she must have realized I was already confused enough without her mumbling. She waved at me dismissively "Nevermind that, It's nothing."

I shook my head, returning it to my hands. I needed to get it together. So, sure, there could have actually been monsters in my closet when I was a kid, or maybe that snake woman actually was Mrs Burtshulk, but I survived so far. I could handle this. I still needed to know more anyways, so I would have to deal with it.

No matter how fucked up it is.

"How do you know all of this?" I asked eventually, releasing my head from my hands. "How'd you figure it out?"

"I've always known." She said, just a little too quick and too cold for me to not raise my eyebrows. "It's been my life since I was born."

"You're not about to rip your face off and tell me you're actually a monster too, right?"

She leveled a glare at me, that looked downright homicidal. I put my hands up, rearing back. "It's a joke, chill! I'm still trying to figure all this out, so It's not like I know any better."

She huffed a stray lock of hair from her face, before turning away. I got the distinct feeling like I was about to get the silent treatment, which was directly opposed to my plans. Anger burned lowly in my chest. It was just a stupid joke, why'd she have to be all temperamental over it?

Maybe she was… well, on 'shark week', you know? That couldn't be fun. Even my mom could be worn a little thin during her special time of the month. Take into consideration that Annabeth seemed to hold triple the aggression my mom had in her whole body in her pinky finger, and the fact that it was the apocalypse so she probably didn't have any- actually, no, shut up, brain,

I was stopping that train of thought, ADHD be dammed.

"So," I faked a little cough, covering my mouth with one hand and scratching at the side of my head with the other. "You didn't really answer my question, about how you figured this all out."

"Yes I did." She said as she folded her arms

"Not really…?"

"But I did. I told you I always knew."

"That's not really an answer."

"Fine. I don't remember a time when I didn't have at least some idea. Is that enough of an answer for you?" The tone of her voice made me feel like I was starting to walk directly into a minefield. Curiosity whined against my skull like some neglected dog, pawing at the back of my head. Thank god I'm not stupid enough to listen to myself.

"Fine..." I sighed. I didn't want to give in so easily, but the two of us weren't exactly on the best terms as it was, and I felt like if I pushed too hard I was going to get locked out. I'd bring it back up later.

My eyes caught that flickering knife of hers, and I was reminded about how I had nearly gotten myself gored earlier. I then realized with a jolt that I had forgotten that. I mean, sure, today was a day of surprises, but come on.

"… What about your weird knife?" And the sword? I think they made me, like, Stab-proof, or something."

I could see her hand drifting idly towards her weapon. I had to keep reminding myself that it couldn't hurt me in order to keep myself from tensing up… of course i had no way of knowing if it REALLY couldn't harm me, but I tried to ignore that.

ADHD part of my brain said no, It's time to imagine explode-dissolving into gold dust.

However, Annabeth seemed little relieved by the question and she shoulders relaxed as she rolled her eyes. "It didn't make you stab-proof, genius, it just doesn't care enough about you to bother stabbing you."

"They don't care enough." I deadpanned.

"Nope," She said, popping the 'p'. "This knife, and the sword you were using, are both made of a material known as celestial bronze."

"Is this a myth thing? Because I don't remember reading any myths about swords that don't kill you when they stab you."

She directed a withering look my way for a few second before her brows furrowed. "Wait, sword? As in the sword I let you use?"

"Uh,"

"You got stabbed by your own sword?"

"Er, well, it was more like I taunted the snake woman into stabbing me with my own sword, I guess?"

She narrowed her eyes, leaning forward slightly,like she was trying to find any indication that I was joking, or maybe she was trying to calculate how stupid she thought I was. Probably both at the same time. She seemed sharp.

"In my defense," I splayed my hands out between us, leaning back just a bit. "I figured we were screwed anyways at that point, and if your knife didn't stab me, and the sword kinda looked like the knife, then maybe the sword couldn't stab me either."

She didn't stop staring intently at me, though now it looked like she was almost angry with me for… some reason. I hiccuped with nervous laughter, words flowing out like vomit in an embarrassing explanation of my poorly constructed plan. When I had finished, she was still staring. I fidgeted. She kind of reminded me of mom, the two times she had actually gotten a little more than halfway mad at me.

"It, uh, worked out fine though, right?"

"I'm not sure if you're the biggest idiot I've ever met, or just a savant for making the stupidest possible strategy that miraculously works"

"A servant to stupid plans…?" I asked, bewildered.

"A savant." She corrected with a sharp sigh. "Someone who has a high natural aptitude for a very particular field. In your case, probably suicidal plans. Next time, when your plan of action is 'Oh, I'm gonna let this monster stab me because the sword I'm using looks like it might not actually be capable, then wing it from there', buy time until you think of a less awful plan, dumbass."

I nodded dumbly. In spite of the fact that her words were harsh, I could see a little glint in her eyes, almost like she was impressed, if only a little.

Shit, that made her look pretty again. Now's not the time to think about how her grey eyes were actually really cool looking when they didn't have the settings locked in death stare mode, and actually didn't ruin the California dream girl thing as much as it made it different in a good way just like the scars.

Why did the crazy, Greek myth squatter girl in my Cabin have to be attractive on top of violent and pretty clearly smart? I think that's unfair.

"Right, so, why did my plan work, exactly?"

She blinked, like she had completely forgotten where this conversation originated. "Right, so, celestial bronze," She glanced at her dagger that she had been toying with. "Celestial bronze is incredibly hard, far harder than regular bronze, easily capable of cutting through steel, can kill a monster in a single solid blow, and even harm a god, if you're suicidal enough to try. It's the weapon of choice of anyone dealing with anything you would recognize as a 'myth'.

"When it comes to mortals though, well, as far as the blade's concerned, you're just not important enough to cut. Watch." She opened her hand out to me, gripping the knife in the other. I must have cringed, because she rolled her eyes at me. "Oh come on you baby, it' not like you haven't done this before."

Okay, that was hard to argue with. "Doesn't mean I'm looking to have it happen again." I grumbled, as I begrudgingly offered my arm to her. She took me by the wrist, and brought the knife down on me, carving up my arm like it was a piece of meat. Just as before, it didn't even tickle, but I couldn't stop my breath from hitching at the sight. It was… eerie, to say the least.

"Only the act of trying to cut you will make the celestial bronze fail to interact with you." She explained, pressing the flat of the blade on my skin and pressing it in lightly. "As such, celestial bronze weapons can bludgeon, but not cut mortals. Not that there are more than a small handful of celestial bronze weapons made for bludgeoning " She dipped the pressure into my skin, and the knife ghosted through my arm, sending a shiver up my spine

I withdraw my arm, rubbing in the places she sliced, or would have, clenching my fist. "That's still so messed up."

"Considering you were impaled, I'd figure you'd be over it by now." She shrugged.

I shrugged back, still rubbing my arm, confirming that, yes, it definitely wasn't the bloody stump that everything annabeth had done with that dagger would have normally reduced it to. "Hey," I muttered after a pregnant pause. "Why'd she stab me with the celestial bronze anyways? Shouldn't a monster, like, know this stuff?"

Annabeth didn't say anything for a long while. I don't know what she was thinking, but when I finally looked away from my arm, she had that analytical look plastered on her face again. She stopped staring almost immediately. "She must have just thought that you weren't a mortal."

"Well then, why did you stab me?"

"... Not everything that looks mortal actually is."

"You hesitated."

"So?"

"So what else could I have been aside from a 'mortal', or whatever?"

She looked away. "Who knows."

"You, probably." I said, my voice hard.

She glanced back at me, her icy demeanor returning with twice the force, chilling the room temperature by at least five degrees. I swallowed. She was like one of those popular girls at school who were in their senior year, but about ten times more terrifying because not only did she look way smarter, she also looked like she didn't only end social lives.

"Look," I broken the silence eventually, my mouth long gone dry. "I don't know why you're so touchy about this, when you were the one who offered to explain things to me in the first place. I can understand if you don't want to tell me everything, hell, I'd probably be happier if I knew less than I already did, but, it's way too late for that." I took a deep breath. "So I need to know; all these Greek myths being actually real, and anything related to it, does it have anything to do with the world ending."

She appeared thoughtful for a second, before nodding slightly. "Yes. Though, I wouldn't call this the end of the world. It's more like the end of an era."

I sucked in another deep breath, slightly shakier this time. "Alright."

"Alright?" She raised an eyebrow, frowning, and gesturing for me to explain what that was supposed to mean.

My mouth felt like it was rapidly filling with cotton, but I ignored it and spoke as firmly as possible.

"Then I'm staying with you."

AN: Percy you doof, you can't just ask people why they know about Greek myths living among us.

Not gonna lie, this chapter had me struggling a bit. I actually intended for it to be much longer, but I couldn't get it to flow right after the end, I must have done like 5 different conversational pathways and they all dissolved into awkwardness. Oh well, baby's first cliffhanger it is.

In other news, I'm looking to make bi-weekly updates. I'm a bit of a slow writer, being ADHD myself I find focusing on writing for an extended period of time to be fairly difficult. If I can manage to focus myself, then I'll release the chapter earlier, but no earlier than a week after the latest update. Sound fair? Good, because it is.