This one is a more heart-wrenching chapter. Sorry if you don't really like sad things, but I decided this story needed a little more than humorous love y'know? Enjoy.

Sorry

Sometimes he was told that 'sorry' wasn't enough. He was told that 'sorry' wouldn't solve the problems he had caused. In a way that was true. He knows he can't always right what he's done wrong. He prays to the Gods that the guilt of his wrongs can be lifted with that one word.

He whispers "Sorry." So many times it looses it's meaning, his shirt soaking with tears that don't seem to stop; a touch of remorse and love in each individual one that runs down his pale cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." He sobs, his head buried in the plush blankets of the room, trying miserably to drown out the sound of beeping machines.

He numbly responds with a monotone "I'm fine" and "Thanks for coming" to everyone that visits. He barely registers who comes in and out of the room. Occasionally he notices the spiky black hair and silvery clothes that tells him Thalia is here and that he can leave, but he wouldn't dare. He won't ever leave the bedside.

He clutches her unfeeling hand in his own, his heartbeat in sync with her pulse. She doesn't know he's there, but he talks to her anyway.

"I'm still here, Wise Girl. I'm not going anywhere. I promise. I'll wait for you forever, if that's what it takes."

Thalia looks at the ground, her eyebrows scrunched together, and shakes her head sadly.

He rants insanely, apologizing in every sentence.

"I shouldn't have let you go. I'm sorry. I swear it should've been me. How could I have let this happen to you. I'm so desperately sorry. If only I hadn't been such a seaweed brain. I can be such and ignorant ass. I'm more sorry than I can tell you."

Grover shows up often, bringing him coffee, and gulps it down, scathing his tongue and throat. "Ouch." He muttered, wiping his mouth. Grover tells him to go home, and to change his clothes, but he still has time until visitation hours are done, and he doesn't want to waste a minute.

"It isn't your fault." He's told. "You couldn't' have done anything to stop it." It doesn't reassure him at all.

He remembers that night better than he's remembered anything.

They're fighting, and it's getting intense. It isn't physical yet, but the way things were going, he wouldn't be surprised it did.

"Damn you Percy! I swear I always knew you were just like the others!" She yells. His face heats up in anger,

"ME? What about you! You have no right to lecture me about being faithful, when he was all over you!"

"You little…!" She throws one of her heavy texts books at him, and it hits him in the shoulder. "Stop being such a bitch!" He yells back. She stops, stunned, and turns her back on him and storms out the door, slamming it behind her.

It wasn't even five seconds before she was hit by a drunk driver, who was swerving madly off the road.

"Mr. Jackson, I'm sorry but you have to leave now." The doctor drones, unsympathetically glancing at his notepad. He hates the doctor instantly. Wants to tell that doctor where he can shove his notepad. Instead he nods, and squeezes her hand once more whispering, "I love you babe; more than anything in the world."

He steps back and lets the tears fall shamelessly, "I'm sorry, Annabeth; for everything. So, so sorry."

He was told sorry wouldn't solve the problem he had caused. In a way that was true. He knows he can't always right what he's done wrong. But right now, it's all that he has.