Wow, I didn't think Blackjack's was really sad, but apparently it was. Thanks a million to PercyJacksontheChicken, Shinny Star, 2, Green2083, inv2, OverLordRevan, and dogbiscuit1967 for your various reviews, follows and favorites! It means so much to me! And now, here's the long—awaited (well, I guess) chapter!

P.S: I'm currently in the middle of Blood of Olympus, and let me just say that it's AMAZHANG. Y'all must read. But hopefully this will remain an AU fic.

RACHEL

Rachel was pacing in her cave, a knot of dread twisting in her stomach, as she waited for Chiron's messenger. He, or she, was late, and Rachel didn't like it. She had always depended on her instincts, and now her instincts were forcefully telling her that something was very wrong.

Despite the fact that she knew her instincts were always right, Rachel fiercely pushed down the wave of nausea that threatened to overcome her whenever she thought about what her apprehension might mean. She refused to think about how scared she was for her friends, and she absolutely did not think about her dream from the night before.

Biting her lip, Rachel stopped pacing and sat down, her legs suddenly giving way under her. She hadn't believed her dream when she'd woken up, but now, when her body was giving her a distress signal, it was all too easy to.

She'd dreamed of the signs of Gaea's rising, as usual—rivers, lakes, roads and trees being swallowed whole by gaping holes in the earth, dirt randomly exploding and killing people by the dozens, satyrs being massacred as they fought in vain against the earth itself, and hundreds of other things that usually left Rachel awaking each morning with the screams of dying nymphs ringing in her ears.

Pleasant.

But that wasn't what she was concerned about. In the middle of the dream, right before she would've seen another nymph die painfully, a single image had stopped the flow of the dream, and Rachel still saw it every time she closed her eyes as if it had been burned into the backs of her eyelids.

It was simple: five figures standing around two people lying on rocky, red ground. The picture had had uncanny clarity, like an HD photo—Rachel had been able to see the horrified and sad expressions on the five's faces as they looked down upon the two either dead or unconscious people.

She didn't want to think about how familiar they looked, so she didn't.

"Rachel?" Someone came in, and Rachel stood quickly. It was Malcolm, Annabeth's half—brother. He looked shell—shocked, and Rachel vehemently ignored the fact that the dread in her gut was getting more intense with every step he took.

"Yeah. That's me. What is it? Is it news? What news? Are Percy and Annabeth okay? Are those newbies, Leo and Piper, okay? Is Jason okay? Are the Romans okay?"

Malcolm held up a hand. "Um, news, yes, bad news, no, sort of, sort of, sort of."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'NO'?"

Malcolm winced. "Uh, Rachel, Percy and Annabeth fought very bravely in the final battle against Gaea." He said every word like it stabbed him repeatedly on the way out of his mouth. "I will always love Annabeth. She was an amazing sister, a great person, and the perfect example of what a daughter of Athena should be." The last few sentences were sincere, but pain was clear in his voice.

Rachel froze, one hand flying to her mouth. No. No, it wasn't possible. No, no, no, no, no! Malcolm was lying. He wasn't implying—surely he didn't mean—

Rachel was barely aware of Malcolm quietly leaving the cave. She fell back onto her bed, blinking rapidly at the ceiling to stop the tears from flowing. No, no, NO. Percy and Annabeth were perfectly fine, she told herself. Everything would work out eventually. They'd come back victorious.

But she knew better. The pain in Malcolm's voice, the way he had said Annabeth was the perfect daughter of Athena, everything he'd said…It all implied that he spoke the truth, that Percy and Annabeth were really—gone.

The thought was hard for Rachel to process. After Tartarus, she'd grown confident that nothing would be able to defeat them, strike them down. That nothing would be able to kill them, because they'd survived where no one ever had before. (She doesn't know about Nico. Let's just keep it that way, yeah?)

Too confident.

That was when Rachel broke down, tears streaming down her face, blurring her vision until everything was just a group of streaks. Annabeth had been strong, smart, and loyal; Percy, too. And Percy had been friends with her when no one else had been. She liked him a lot, but not in that way anymore. He was—had been—the best friend she'd ever had, aside from Annabeth.

Rachel knew that she had lost two friends that day, and the world seemed a little bit darker, a little less bright, a little less joyful, when she finally left her cabin in a daze.

She doubted that it would ever regain its light again.