A/N: I do not own PJO. Special thanks to The Invisible Pretender for the inspiration of this.

PERCY

The water lapped at his feet and blew a salty tang into his face, a spray of saltwater rising up from the waves. Sand grit under the soles of his feet as he watched the horizon, glistening tides pulling and retreating.

"Rough day?"

He spun, his sword bursting into form without him noticing. Nemesis jumped back, her traditional white robes flying backwards at the movement. He capped his blade, narrowing his eyes at the Goddess of Revenge.

"And?" Probably not the best thing to say, he noted, but plenty of immortals already hated him, and Nemesis had never been high on his respect list. Leo had told him she took the form of those he hated most, but he was sure he'd never seen her before.

Still, he recognized her somehow—maybe it was the same glossy black hair as her son, Ethan, or maybe just some interior sense that allowed him to see her.

Without answering his question, she took a seat on the sand next to him, dipping her feet into the water. "The war is over," she began.

Percy frowned. It wasn't like a goddess to make small talk, unless they wanted something in return. Nineteen years of dealing with Olympus had alerted him to the fact. "I guess." His answer was vague, still somewhat wary. "What do you want?"

Nemesis laughed, a hard edge distracting from the otherwise cheerful sound. "Impatient, aren't you?" She gathered her robes and sat. "Nothing."

"What?" The goddess sighed, gathering curly locks and tossing them behind her shoulder.

"Nothing," She repeated. "I want nothing. The Olympians are throwing another fit over a temple the Daughter of Athena designed, and truthfully they were acting like immortal, all powerful toddlers." She smiled bitterly, kicking her feet in the waves. "And it was a ceremony, too."

"I guess that's why you're in white?"

The goddess scowled. "Yes. Blasted gods and their adoration for 'bright, happy colors.'" She rolled her eyes, poking at the fabric of her dress. "I must say, it's refreshing to talk to a demigod again without threatening them." Nemesis tucked another lock of hair behind her ear.

"Okay?" Percy knew he sounded ignorant and slightly stupid—okay, he admitted it. But seriously? How do you stay calm when a goddess plops down next to you and starts making small talk? He certainly wasn't going to kowtow at her feet, but it was still unnerving.

"Your friend Leo—the son of Hephaestus—he's a special case, is he not?" It was a strange topic, one not often brought up, and Percy glanced at her from the corner of his eye, watching her. Nemesis kicked her heels in the sand, as if frustrated with something—herself, or probably him. He tended to make people feel that way.

"Leo? Probably. He still blames himself for 'sending us to Tartarus.'" Percy frowned as images of empousai and the river of fire flashing into his mind. "When will he get over the fact that it wasn't his fault? It wasn't like the fortune cookie made that much of a difference—"

He cut off abruptly as Nemesis turned to stare at him, dark eyes scrutinizing him for each and every flaw. "It was," She said quietly. If a goddess could look guilty, he swore she did. "That's the problem. They do unexpected things, and as much as Leo will tell you different, that's why I despise giving them out."

She was definitely guilty—he had spent his life struggling to figure out Annabeth, and Nemesis wasn't much harder. She had the same guarded expression as Annabeth and most of the Olympian goddesses, as if she was trying to hide her emotions from both others and herself.

"The daughter of Athena was never supposed to fall," She admitted, picking at the hem of her dress. "Nor were you. So I suppose some part of it was my fault." The goddess spat out the words like they were bitter, and he could understand; as a goddess, she was supposed to be below apologizing or admitting faults.

"I chose to fall," He reminded her. "I…I couldn't leave her again."

"The first time wasn't your fault," She told him, almost smiling now. A pale hand drifted downwards and cupped a handful of sand, letting it trickle from her fingers. "The second time, well… maybe it was." She was definitely smiling, almost a sincere one now.

He watched her silently, not sure what to say or do. Goddesses were touchy in the 'if you say one word wrong I'll blast you to oblivion' or in Artemis's case, the 'turn you into a small furry animal with antlers' kind. So he wasn't exactly eager to blurt out his thoughts.

"You want to know why I'm the goddess of Revenge, and not anything else?" He nodded slightly, still somewhat wary even after she expressed no intention of blasting him to bits. "I was born from Erebus and Nyx,"He winced at the name of the deity that had attempted to kill him.

"Go on?" He prompted, curious.

"Zeus didn't trust her," She remembered. Her fingers laced together, entwining and twisting. "He needed to keep an eye on her—that's why she hated you two, you know. Gaea—her sister—promised her freedom from Zeus's arrogant gaze, and she agreed. You, Perseus—"

"Percy," He corrected instinctively, cowering at the withering glare she sent in his direction. "Sorry." She shook her head, her eyes twinkling with something like amusement.

"Percy," She started again. "You are the son of Poseidon, Zeus's brother, and Annabeth is the daughter of Athena, Zeus's daughter. My mother has good reason to be angry." She sighed. "I joined the Titans for the same reason, you know. Zeus never trusted me, either. As the goddess of Revenge, well…it's pretty hard to trust someone like that."

Percy ran his fingers through his hair. "I trust you?" It came out as a question, and Nemesis shot him an incredulous glance.

"Do you really?" Her gaze was piercing, and he realized he found it hard to trust someone who looked like they could skewer you at any moment. But then again, he trusted Annabeth, so…

"I guess."

The goddess scoffed. "You don't," She reasoned. "No one does. Even Ethan didn't—he's still convinced you were the hero, you know? A war that happened three years ago, and my only son still hates me for taking his eye."

"Didn't he agree?" Blame Poseidon for his ignorance, Percy thought, hoping the goddess would at least try not to kill him before the end of the conversation. Luckily, Nemesis seemed to be in a decent mood.

"Yes, he did," She fiddled with her dress again. "But I promised him he would set things right. He believed me, and I told the truth—he inspired you, didn't he?" She narrowed her eyes.

Percy nodded somewhat reluctantly. "I guess. Him and Luke."

"The Son of Hermes," Nemesis muttered. "Yes. I know." When he furrowed his eyebrows at her, she managed a small chuckle. "I am a goddess, you know." Gee, thanks for reminding me you could blast me to bits at any moment. Just when I was starting to forget.

"He doesn't know that," The goddess closed her eyes for a second, before turning her head. "The last time I saw him, he was dying, after being thrown off Olympus. 'I can't believe I ever trusted you,' –they were his last words." Her fist clenched. "I was right, though—Revenge took payment. And despite what I told Leo and the others—I did not enjoy accepting his eye. It was not proper payment."

Percy thought back to when he was fourteen, when he thought Nemesis was a horrible mom for taking her son's eye as payment. Now, he saw maybe it was something she had to do, not something she wanted to do.

"He's just angry," He tried to say, but it sounded harsh and false even to his ears. "I'm sure he still lo—" He cut off as the goddess slumped, her hair spilling into her face. "He doesn't hate you."

"He does," She argued. "He told me."

Percy swallowed hard, before setting his hand on her shoulder. She jerked upwards so fast her hair almost lashed him in the face, but finally she relaxed. "He said you deserved a throne," Percy told her, remembering Ethan's indecision. "A throne with the Olympians."

She sighed again, picking herself up and brushing the sand from her clothes. "I should join the argument before the gods forget all about the ceremony." After taking two steps away from him, she turned. He had never thought of the Goddess of Revenge as beautiful, but she was, in a harsh manner.

"He was wrong," She whispered, lifting the hem of her robe out of the sand. "Revenge has no place with the rest. But thank you for believing so."

And then the goddess was gone, her retreating figure white against the bright horizon.

A/N: if the characters are OOC, then, well...they don't tell Nemesis much in PJO, and only as a minor character in HOO. So forgive me if I make Nemesis different from what you imagined her. Another thanks to The Invisible Pretender for being the first and only reviewer, as well as giving the idea for this chapter. If you're reading this, did it meet your expectations?

Thanks for reading, and press the review button down on the bottom of the page!

~Johanna