I sat anxiously huddled in the waiting-room of the hospital. Doctors bustled in and out of the double operating-theatre doors, but no one had any news for me.

To take my mind off of who had shot my husband and why, I thought about my chance meeting with Hestia and what it meant.

Something's happened, something to do with… Percy. I grimaced at the name. I don't love him, I don't love him, and it's been four years and I don't love him.

A doctor interrupted her failing mental battle. He had honey blond hair, spiked around his head in a halo, and intelligent blue eyes. He was quite young, with tanned skin and a white lab coat.

He had blood splattered along the coat, and he looked tired. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the room.

"Annabeth Sebel?" he asked, scanning the room for me.

I looked up from the magazine I wasn't really reading. "Yes?" I asked, worried.

The doctor came over to me and led me in to the corridor. There weren't as many people here, just nurses in crisp white uniforms, scurrying around, helping the sick.

"Your husband is alive," said the doctor, whose nameplate read 'Dr Alderney'. "They managed to get the bullet out of the wound, and they've stopped the blood flow. However, the bullet tore through his right shoulder like it was rice paper." The man ran a hand through his spiky hair. "I'm afraid that your husband may lose the use of his right arm. We can't know for sure, but we think it's highly likely at this time." He paused. "I'm sorry."

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry… Like he's dead.

"Can I see him?" I asked, looking over Dr Alderney's shoulder, down the hallway.

"Absolutely," he said, gesturing me to follow him. He led through the hall, up another flight of stairs, and into a different hallway. This one had a blue-green carpet, and plain white walls. It was very modern, and looked brand new. Doors made of a light, shiny wood dotted the hallway walls, each even spaced. Dr Alderney led me past the nurse's station, which was bustling with nurses drinking coffee, filling out forms and tapping away on computers, and down the hall, stopped in front of number 8.

"This is your husband's room," he said, opening the door. "He's stable, so he should be fine. However, if you do need anything, press the call button on the headboard. He clapped his hands together.

"We're doing all we can for your husband," he said, peering down at me. "Just sit tight, for the moment. The future may not be as grim as it seems."

I nodded, and entered the room, shutting the door behind me. Brad was lying in bed, face pale, but sleeping peacefully. I sighed in relief. There was nothing outwardly wrong with him, besides the fact that his right arm was bandaged and held up at an awkward angle.

Thank gods he isn't dead, I thought. I don't think I could handle another dead lover.

I plopped down on the chair next to him, and stared at his limp form. How long I sat there for, mulling things over, I didn't know. Eventually, my head tilted back, and I fell into a dreamless sleep which, for once, was haunted by nothing.

"Annabeth?" My name was whispered in the air around me. "Is that you?"

I blinked open my eyes. I mustn't have been asleep for long, because it was still dark outside the window. The digital clock on the table beside the bed read 4:21am.

"Yes, it is." I leaned forward and clasped Brad's left hand as he stared up at me.

"Thank you for coming," he whispered, smiling slightly at me.

"Of course I came," I said to him, smiling in return. "Would you expect anything less?"

"I suppose not," he said, trying to sit up, but failing because of the awkward position of his arm. "What happened to me?"

I bit my lip, wondering whether to tell him or not. I settled on the partial truth. "You were shot," I said, planning out my explanation in my head. "In the right shoulder. But you're stable now, and you're not in any danger of dying. They have to run some more tests, so in the meantime, you're not to get out of bed, and you're not to move, okay?"

He grinned. "Yes Doctor Annabeth," he said, teasing me. I smiled in return.

"I'm glad you're alive," I said, sincerely, reaching down the brush the hair from his forehead.

"So am I," he said, closing his eyes again. "Is there any water in the room?" he asked, his eyes still closed. "I'm quite thirsty."

"Uh…" I looked around. The room was quite nice, with a small table with a vase of flowers on it in the corner, a couple of chairs crammed around it, and a wardrobe. There was no water, however. "No, sorry, there isn't." I remembered the water cooler in the waiting room.

"There's a water cooler in the waiting room, I'll go get you a glass, all right?" I said to him, standing up. "I'll be right back."

"Thank you," he said, rolling over to watch me go.

I shut the door gently behind me, walking back down the hallway. It was strangely deserted, with no hint of any living people present. I failed to notice this until it was too late, though, simply putting it down to the early hour.

The nurse's station was similarly deserted, but I came up with a logical excuse, ignoring the worry beginning to grown inside me, like a malignant tumour. I passed it, and went down the stairs into the next corridor, which led all the way into the reception area.

It was utterly deserted, the reception station quiet and the chairs unattended. Still, there was the water cooler, humming gently in the corner. I crossed to it, shivering in the air conditioned air. I pulled a plastic cup from the holder, flicking the tap on as the cold water gushed out into the cup. When it was full, I removed my finger, standing up and turning to go back up the stairs.

I didn't get that far, however.

The water cooler erupted behind me, spewing water through the ruptured container. I gasped in shock and turned around, dropping my cup. The water was free-falling towards the floor when it was sucked up by a mysterious force that held the swirling ball of water up in the air, two and a half meters off the ground.

I watched it in shock, thinking, There is only one person I know who can manipulate water like that.

There he was. Leaning against the doorframe, he was staring at me. I couldn't see him properly, but I could see that he had gotten taller still, and that his black hair fell to his neck.

"Percy," I breathed out, taking a step towards him. "You, you survived—"

He snapped his fingers, and the water hurdled after me, swooping down like a demented magpie. It hit my head and I screamed, stumbling slightly. The water stopped rushing, flowing smoothly down my form as it encased me in a millimetre thick coat.

I can't breathe. I wrestled with the water, trying to bat it away from my mouth, as I inched forward to him.

He wants to kill me, I thought with dire desperation, the lack of oxygen making me faint. He wants me to suffocate, to die.

Oh, Percy, what's happened to you?

I have recently discovered my new favourite thing: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare. It may or may not have been why it took me so long to update. In addition, I am not in my home state, and my internet is cut down to one hour a day. Just thought you should know.