Song credits go to Bob Seger, a lyrical genius who doesn't require a dictionary to decipher.

Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival.

-C. S. Lewis

"You always hear people saying that life is like a book. I can't say I disagree. Life tends to turn the page without your consent. But the advancement in the story is something you need, no matter how terrifying it might seem at first."

- Annabeth Chase

Chapter Two: Turn the Page

The bed is a beautiful invention. And it's one of those things that people didn't really appreciate until they went without for an extended period of time. They were soft and comfortable, and Annabeth could just sink into her bunk and sleep forever… Who knew packing was so much work? She didn't. She was nervous, and tired. She was going to see her dad for the first time in a long time. A very long time. Maybe she'd just sleep and forget about it…

"Annabeth, you still have your shoes on; and your knife is about to impale you in the nose."

Groaning, she pushed her head into the pillow and slammed her weapon the bedside table.

"Happy now?"

Malcolm laughed, but didn't leave the room and that meant he wanted to talk to her and that meant she had to move. Annabeth crawled up from the beauty that was sleepy unconsciousness and faced short blond hair and those ridiculously innocent gray eyes she could never stay mad at.

"Yes, Malcolm?" she asked.

He scratched the back of his head and said, "Well, before you went on that quest you said you'd teach me a few tricks with your knife and I thought…And I forgot all month, but I was wondering if you could…"

Annabeth stared at Malcolm, her bed, back to Malcolm.

"I did make a promise…"

He beamed and her slight frustration at her lack of sleep crumbled. How could she deny that face? Malcolm jumped up and down and sprinted out the door. He was yelling for her to hurry up. For a second, she had to wonder whether or not she had had that sort of innocence when she was nine. She probably hadn't. Too many monsters and near-death experiences. She supposed she had achieved some sort of reparations when she met Luke and Thalia. They had been step-parents—siblings more like it. But they had been enough.

Thinking of Luke, she wondered where he was. He had only given her a brief, yet tight hug on her return. But he hadn't said much, just looked at her funny. Like he was trying to memorize her face before a trip. He had been distant all month. It worried her, but she passed it off. Why would Luke want to leave Camp Half-blood? He'd die out there.

He wouldn't dare leave her.

"Annabeth, Annabeth, Annabeth, come on!"

She laughed and shot up, joining Malcolm on the pathway.

He looked up at her and asked excitedly, "So what're you gonna teach me?"

"Well, we haven't practiced in a while. We'll have to review a little bit. See if you got any better while on reprieve."

He jumped at the bait and nodded enthusiastically. "I did, I did, I swear!" Annabeth laughed, which felt kind of funny, after all she'd been through that week. Malcolm apparently wasn't okay with silence and asked, "So, how was the quest again? Can you tell me what happened? How was Grover? And what about Percy? Do you like him? Does he like you? Is he good at sword fighting? Did he do any cool stuff with water? What about—."

"Malcolm!" she interrupted. "I'd tell you all about it if you'd let me talk. And what's with all the Percy stuff?"

He blushed and quieted.

Annabeth had told him the story at least a hundred times over, yet he never tired of hearing it. The Percy questions were new, though. She wasn't sure that they had ever talked.

"He taught me this super cool sword trick! He's really nice. I like him. He kind of reminds me of Luke."

Annabeth smiled and shook her head. "I guess I could say I thought the same thing. But they're different. In some ways."

Malcolm shrugged, seeming to be pondering her words. "I guess they are. Percy's way shorter. And smaller."

"Don't tell him that."

He laughed and continued, "And Percy is a lot funnier than Luke. He says stuff that make me crack up all the time."

Annabeth's nose wrinkled and she nodded. "I suppose so."

"I'm done interrupting. You should tell the story now."

His thought process was untraceable. She recounted the quest, and wasn't surprised to lose her breath at some parts. Looking back on it now, she wondered how she'd survived. It all seemed so incredible. Annabeth wasn't capable of incredible. On the other hand…

"Percy really fought a god?" Malcolm asked in awe.

"Yes, he did."

Malcolm shook his head in complete disbelief. "That is so amazing. I bet no one else in camp ever defeated a god before. And especially Ares!"

"A battle isn't all about skill. Percy was smarter than Ares, and Ares acted on his temper. Sometimes you can win the war before you even start it if you have the right plan."

Malcolm shrugged at her speech. She hadn't expected him to take it all in. What nine year-old really cared about battle tactics?

"I suppose so…"

They continued walking, talking about different swords and their advantages. Using a sword was unfamiliar territory for her. She was proficient at best, but better with her knife. They reached the clearing and Annabeth felt a strange chill go down her spine. It didn't feel pleasant. Ominous, more like it.

"Do you…?" she started, drifting off.

"—feel like something's wrong?" Malcolm guessed. "Yes, I do."

Annabeth's eyebrows furrowed and she started walking faster towards the clearing. There were people. What were they looking at? Why were they whispering? What was going on? She started running. She started sprinting. The trees were rustling. The nymphs were almost never out this late. It was edging on seven, what were they doing?

She plowed through the group of young campers. They were a new batch of fifth graders. They were lost and immature.

Gasping for air, she looked.

Percy.

Nymphs.

Percy.

He was hanging on the arms of two nymphs. His head was lolling on his neck and he was breathing loudly. Whistling. Like he couldn't get air. His skin color was all wrong. A green tinge lingered around his jaw, but a pale gray had taken over everything else. His eyelids were fluttering rapidly, struggling for consciousness.

What was she doing here?

"Percy! Someone get Chiron! Go!" she screamed, skidding to a stop in front of the wood nymphs. They were in a panic, not accustomed to dealing with hurt campers. "Put him down!" she instructed hurriedly, grabbing under his shoulders and lowering Percy to the ground. His breathing was all wrong and he looked terrible and why was his face so gray? And how come his eyes weren't open, and holy crap, Percy was going to die. He was going to die—.

"What happened? What's wrong?" a loud voice boomed, deep and in command. Beckendorf appeared over her shoulder and dropped to his knees next to Percy.

"Jesus," he breathed. "Where's Chiron? He needs help!"

"I don't know! I don't know why he's—. Wait, his hand." His palm was covered with an angry red welt that was oozing puss from the middle. "That's a… bite. But, where?"

"Annabeth, Annabeth, shit! Annabeth! He's not breathing! Holy shit, where's Chiron?"

The numerous swear words didn't register in my head and the only thing I could see was Percy's chest refusing to rise.

Then a horn was blowing and I was getting shoved and Chiron was there. He was picking Percy up and galloping towards the Big House and before I even realized I was running I was there.

Chiron laid Percy down on the bed, and then his hands were fluttering over him and he was whispering some words that I had never heard him say. He was swearing. That was bad. If Chiron was swearing it was bad. Percy was bad.

He flattened his palm over Percy's ribs, his lungs, and started praying: harried, fervent, whispered words that he spoke with a defiant voice; like he would absolutely not let another child die before his eyes.

Chiron's hands glowed golden, eerily similar to Percy's arrival, which seemed like decades ago. This time it was more powerful. Hotter. Stronger.

The glow died and Percy remained still, no reaction from his slack body. He didn't even twitch.

"Percy, damnit. Breathe!" Chiron growled. His hand shone brighter this time.

Her lungs ached from the lack of air in Percy's chest. There was a pounding sound in her ears.

The blood rushed through her head.

Chiron cursed.

A small breeze glided along Annabeth's neck.

It was silent. Annabeth's chest hurt. It was aching. Percy couldn't…

Percy's eyebrows drew together, like he was frustrated, and he took a massive gulp of air and rolled to his side with strength I didn't think he'd have, gasping for breath. He was coughing and wheezing and it sounded terrible. Chiron looked visibly relieved, and he gently pushed Percy back against the bed, pressing a hand to his forehead and saying, "Shh, child. It will come. You must calm down."

Percy twitched defiantly, but was slowly sinking into the bed, probably tired. His forehead was covered with sweat, but color was returning to his skin. Annabeth took the initiative and filled a glass with nectar, plopping a straw in it with trembling hands.

"Do you know what happened?" she asked quietly, her back purposely turned away from Chiron until she gained some semblance of self-control.

"Scorpion poison. Incredibly fast-acting. I do not understand where it came from, and I highly doubt that Percy would be fooling around with one in the first place."

She turned around, done wetting and squeezing a rag and sank into a chair near Percy's bed. Annabeth carefully wiped the cold sweat gathering on his forehead and just breathed with him. "So you think this was intentional?"

"Whether I want to say so or not; yes, I do."

Dread curdled in Annabeth's stomach and she swallowed it. Leaning forward, she slid the straw through Percy's lips, grateful when he sipped it instead of blowing chunks all over her shirt. The change was visible and Percy calmed, breathing evenly while in his half-sleep, unconscious something or another that was both a relief and slightly worrying.

Percy mumbled something unintelligible and reflexively clutched at the blanket in his fists. Chiron must have noticed this, because he stood up, saying, "He should be waking up soon."

Annabeth sure hoped so.

Percy had ridiculously long eyelashes. Annabeth wasn't the type of girl to obsess over makeup and looks, but she looked in the mirror every now and then; she definitely hadn't been blessed in the eye department. He was.

Chiron settled down beside her, a roll of white bandages falling on the bed. He gently started wrapping Percy's hand. Even with the slightest amount of pressure, Percy jerked back and mumbled something offensive in Greek.

Okay, so she couldn't stop the smile creeping up her face.

He was slowly but surely wriggling his way into her heart. Annabeth trusted few people: Grover, Luke, and Chiron were the few that she saw as safe. But Percy was so different. She couldn't put a word to it, couldn't explain it. He was the relentless variable that kept on flipping letters. Sometimes he was the whole alphabet.

Percy blinked.

"Here we are again," he said quietly.

"You idiot! You were green and turning gray when we found you! If it weren't for Chiron's healing…" She drifted off, unable to process the idea of watching Percy die in front of her.

Luke, oh, Luke, you didn't. How could you? She thought.

Her stomach twisted tightly.

Betrayal.

He… he left. He left her.

They traveled together through thick and thin, through death and destruction and he left her. Her heartbeat pounded through her head, and Annabeth blinked away the tears burning at the corner of her eyes.

She heard Percy and Chiron talking about Zeus and gods and Luke, but didn't take any of it in. The only thing she could think was pain.

Then Percy was blinking those green green eyes and asking her if he could get up. Percy Jackson, pushing boundaries for twelve years and counting. Of course, she warned him that he was still weak, still recovering, but he ignored her. Percy did what he wanted, heedless of the repercussions.

And she had to smother the I told you so when he crumpled out of the bed and nearly had a close encounter with the floor. She caught him anyway. It wasn't hard to wrap her arm around him and lug him to the railing outside. By the time they were on the porch, he was sweating and Annabeth was holding more of his weight than he was, but Percy got there.

She listened with awed silence as he expressed that he didn't want to leave her alone. That was…

"Take care, Seaweed Brain." She said. Then added for good measure, "keep your eyes open."

He met her eyes, clear as day, and said, "You too, Wise Girl."

Annabeth dismissed herself, walking up the hill towards a new start. A new beginning. She hugged her dad, who smelled like leather and spice, and gave a weak smile to her step-mom, one that hopefully said Let's try again. The blame fell on them both. It was shared equally.

She ran her fingers down Thalia's tree, thinking about her, blue eyes and black hair, wondering what Thalia would say to Luke now. What Thalia would think about Percy.

It hit her like a large gust of wind.

Percy Jackson was her friend.

How was that, guys? Once again, stream of consciousness downgraded. Although, I did try and throw a little bit more humor into it. I don't want to bore you all. I'd like to think that her feeling are... on par? It's obvious that she doesn't have any feelings for Percy yet. Yet.

The fun I'll have from here on out. This is interesting to write though, don't get me wrong. The development from friendship to romance is so intriguing. A million different directions.

Did you like the "Annabeth" quote at the beginning? Figured it'd be cool to add. Does it sound like something she'd say?

Anyways, I hope you like :)

Review!