Sorry it's been so long, a certain beta wouldn't beta. I don't think she's finished even now but I couldn't wait any longer.

Chapter 2

Michael looked around at his surroundings. Even though he knew his father was the God of prophecies, he never thought he would be sent into the future.

Wait. He knew where he was – the past. The Second World War, the one caused by the demigods of the Big Three. He looked around and remarked that he was in a hospital. He witnessed soldiers, young and old, dying. They couldn't be saved by any methods available at that time. He started to walk forwards but one soldier caught his eye. It couldn't be... Could it?

Why would that person be here? More importantly, how could they be there? They looked older here than they were today.

"Impossible." Michael muttered to himself.

"Not quite." A high voice said from behind him.

Michael swiftly turned around. It was Circe: a daughter of Hecate. She was a sorceress - and not a very nice one. He'd heard what Circe had done to Percy and Annabeth two or three years ago and let's just say Hermes hadn't given this demigod any vitamins...

"Don't worry, boy." She said twisting a lock of hair around her finger and smiling evilly, "You'll come back here again."

The vision started to fade and Michael felt the torturing pain in his left arm and leg again. One of his 'powers' as a demigod let him know that he would be healed in exactly a week... if he was at Camp Half-Blood.

After I'd grabbed the first aid box that I kept in the kitchen, I returned to the living room. The short blonde haired boy was still lying on the leather couch although this time he was asleep, breathing rapidly. Every so often he shuddered and I wondered what he was dreaming about.

I realised that it would most likely be the battle he was just fighting in. I wouldn't ask him when he awoke – it would be insensitive. He'd just been watching his friends die.

Thinking about the battle made me guilty like I should've been there helping. Unbeknownst to me, for some reason, I felt some kind of allegiance to the teens and children dressed in Greek battle armour.

Whoa. Back up there. How did I know it was Greek? Doesn't all Greek and Roman stuff look the same? Yes, yes, I know, I learn Latin and we have to learn about the background information but I can never help thinking that the styles are very similar. Especially for the breastplates. Although I must admit that I find the sections about the military boring. Much less interesting than mythology and culture at least. (A.N. This part is true for me)

I think I'll just let that one slide. If it happens again I'll become confused but right now is not the time. Now I have to carry this stranger to the spare room upstairs whilst trying not to move his left leg. It looked fractured or something but I don't really know much about medicines etc. Maybe he will know when he wakes up... For his sake, I hope so.

Once I had carried him to the double bed, I took a wipe and cleaned the dirt and blood off his face. He looked very peaceful, lying helplessly on the bed. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the mirror on the other side of the room. I had blood smeared all over my clothes and face. The blood must have been there from when I moved my fringe out of my eyes. Speaking of my fringe, it was getting way too long – almost covering my green eyes. My curly hair was slightly tangled and I looked like I needed some sleep, which of course, I did. I watched as the figure in the mirror slowly fell backwards onto the bed next to the boy and fall asleep.

Just in case you wanted to know what the different types of armour was, I think Greek is Lorica Musculata and Roman is Lorica Segmentata.

So, who is this girl? Why is she awake in Manhattan? Yes, I admit. She's a demigod :O but who is her godly parent?