•Chapter 1•

Hi, all you fabulous people!

I would just like to say that this story will not dive too deep into the medical or warfare world, so don't worry.

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Happy reading!

2010

It all started when our twelfth grade English teacher decided that we, as teenagers, were "too closed-off, too involved with texting and instant messaging, and were forgetting how to write good, old-fashioned letters"—Mrs. Leer's words, not mine. Therefore, she decided that we were going to have a penpal and were required to write a letter, handwritten, to him or her once a week. We were to hand in our letters to Mrs. Leer every Monday, and then she would drive to the mailbox and deliver a bundle of letters to the corresponding school.

At this point, I already dreaded this assignment. Writing and reading anything was my enemy. Did she somehow forget that I was dyslexic? Even if I had a proofreader, it was still stressful.

Mrs. Leer and her friend, the English teacher over at Goode High randomly paired off their students one Sunday afternoon over Skype or FaceTime. Who knew teachers knew how to operate electronics?

Then, the next day, we learned who our penpals for the next three months were.

Mrs. Leer and her friend had paired me up with an Annabeth Chase.

My first reaction was disappointment. I was hoping that I'd get a guy, and hopefully bond with him over sports, video games and whatnot.

Oh, and did I mention that Mrs. Leer instructed that we were to try to befriend—or at least connect—with our penpals? And send pictures of ourselves to them later on?

But oh, no. I. Got. A. Girl. (Assuming that no parent would give their son a girly name … that'd be weird.)

My second reaction was nervousness. Although I know that I'm a pretty attractive guy, I hoped that she wouldn't try flirting with me … or hit on me. That'd be creepy … not to mention weird. I mean, hitting on someone using snail mail … that's ancient. Like, really ancient.

"Alright, class!" Mrs. Leer said, beaming, clapping her hands together. "Let's starting writing those letters!" If I didn't know who she was, I'd honestly think that she was from some old classic movie from the 50's or something.

"Woo," I muttered sarcastically, begrudgingly getting out a sheet of paper. "This is gonna be fun."

Dear Annabeth,

Hi, I guess? I'm your new penpal. Frankly, I think that this project sucks. I mean, couldn't she at least let us email each other? No one uses snail mail anymore! Besides Mrs. Leer and your teacher, NO ONE DOES! Honestly, I feel sorry for them … they're missing out on so many awesome things about technology and a beautiful thing called … wait for it … THE INTERNET. Haha just kidding … sort of.

Besides, I think she might have forgotten that I have dyslexia. In case you're some person who has no idea what that is, it's basically this problem where your eyes mess up the words you see … so that's why I need my buddy Frank to proofread it for me. I mean, if I tried to write "soup", I'd end up writing "soap". That's why I need Frank to read it over. (Yes, I asked Frank about it the soup-soap thing.)

Okay, so I'll introduce myself. Hi, I'm Percy Jackson. I'm 17 years old. I have a little brother who's called Tyson. He's a giant, but he's a really big softie. I'm not even kidding about the "giant" part. I'm pretty tall already, but Tyson's a head taller than me.

Anyways, Mrs. Leer says that it's time to hand in our letters. My hand is cramping up from writing so much. I honestly think that someone should introduce her to a computer.

Your (reluctant) penpal,

Percy Jackson

"So, who did you get?" Frank asked Jason, Leo, and I after English class ended.

Confused, I replied with a "Huh?"

Frank sighed, exasperated. "Percy. The penpals."

Oh. "Um, I got a girl. Annabeth Chase."

A chorus of "Ooohs" and "This chick better be hot" followed suit. Well, Leo said the last one.

"Leo!" I exclaimed, smacking his head.

"What?" he asked me innocently, looking up at me. "I figured that if is she is, she will be the one who will finally be able to handle my hotness." He ended the sentence with a hand on his head and the other on his hip. After a moment, he scrunched up his face.

"Uhh … what's that expression 'sposed to be?" Jason asked the short Latino.

Now it was Leo's turn to roll his eyes. "What do you think?"

"It looks like an 'I just got kicked in the balls but I'm trying not to show any pain' expression … seriously."

The three of us turned our heads towards the new voice. A redhead was making her way towards us, her arms filled with a books, a laptop and a pencil case. I greeted her. "Hey, Rachel."

She returned the greeting, and turning to Leo, cocked an eyebrow. "If that's your best attempt at making an attractive face, I'm wishing you luck for your future relationships. I don't think any girl will find that attractive."

Jason, Frank, and I nodded in agreement.

"Oh, how you wound me," Leo said dramatically, clasping a hand over his heart. "I—"

"Anyway," Jason said, interrupting Leo, "how about we go back to our original topic?" Slinging his arms over Frank and me, he steered us away from the "wounded" Leo and the exasperated Rachel Elizabeth Dare, and marched us down to our lockers.

After a while, Jason asked us, "So, do you think that your penpals will like you? As a person, I mean."

"Probably," Frank replied. "I mean, I'm pretty an average guy. I'm not really crazy or really boring."

"Except for the fact that you're obsessed with getting stuck in Chinese Finger Traps," I reminded him, snickering, with Jason following suit. Frank glared at Jason and I, and then told us to shut up.

"Well, how about you?" Frank challenged me. "You're definitely weirder than me, and your obsession with blue food is insane. What if she has something against blue?"

I stopped laughing and waved it off. "She's probably not going to find out about that anyways, and dude, of course she won't hate me! I'm unhateable. Besides, who can't not like me? I mean look at these!" I flexed my arms, and, looking up, saw a girl—maybe sophomore or junior—watching me. I rose an eyebrow, causing the auburn-haired girl to quickly turn away in embarrassment.

"Yeah," Jason said beside me, dragging the word out. "Totally macho."

2015

When I get back to the base, the truth finally hits me. Annabeth is in a coma.

My fiancée is in a freaking coma. I trudge back into the bunkers, and plop on my bed. Resting my hand on chin, I look up to the ceiling and hoping that someone is listening, shoot up a quick prayer for Annabeth's recovery. Even though I'm not religious, I'm desperate for all the help I can get.

"Hey," a voice says softly by my elbow. I turn around in surprise, and see Private M. Chase sitting beside me.

"Um, hi," I return, uncertain. He's in my battalion, and I'm his superior, but when it's just Percy and Magnus talking, off-shift, we're equals.

"Listen, I know that we don't know each other that well, since well, ya know, you're my superior. But Annabeth's my cousin, and I'll tell you this: If there's anyone who can survive going to hell and back and almost die in the process but still pull through in the end, it's her. She's stronger and more of a fighter than most people give her credit for, and she's going to beat whatever odds are thrown at her."

I raise my eyebrows. "Um … thanks, but I already know that."

"Really?" he returns, skeptical. "It sure looked like you needed a reminder."

I sigh a little. "Yeah, you're right," I admit. "Thanks, man."

A corner of his mouth quirks up. "Anytime, dude."

Suddenly, on impulse, I pull him towards a bro hug. Magnus seems a little surprised at first, but relaxes and hugs me back. My cell phone suddenly rings, and we break apart. It's Annabeth's stepmother.

I answer the phone, and hear her sobbing on the other end. In the corner of my eye, I see Magnus leave the room and quietly shut the door behind him.

"Percy … we just received the news a minute ago. What happened to her? The doctor won't tell us."

Gently, I tell her what I saw, which leads her to another round of hysterics.

"Sometimes, that girl can be so heroic, it's like she always wants to challenge death head-on," her stepmother sniffles.

I continue talking to her and comforting Mrs. Chase, and finally, after I hang up, I fall onto my bed, and without even caring that I'm still in dirt-covered clothes, and slip into slumber.

"Lieutenant-Colonel Jackson."

I step forward, my head held high. I'm nervous; the secretary of the base approached me out of the blue this morning and instructed me to see our general after breakfast. "Yes, General?"

"You have been honourably discharged," General Hylla Ramírez-Arellano tells me.

I am shocked. "What?" I murmur.

"You heard me." The General frowns at my reaction. "Since the incident in which Major Chase was severely wounded and brought to the infirmary, your leadership and fighting has become incompetent. You used to be one of our best fighters, Lieutenant-Colonel Jackson. Your discipline of your soldiers, fight skills, and reflexes, among other things, were legendary. For those reasons, we appointed you Lieutenant-Colonel. Despite your young age, you proved that you were be an important asset to our base. Up until fairly recently, you upheld your duties and performed them well. That is, up until three weeks ago."

Annabeth was shot three weeks ago.

"You are temporarily discharged until you feel that you are competent enough to lead your battalion, then, in that case, you will re-join your rank," General Ramírez-Arellano finishes. "You are due to report back every two months. If you feel that your leading and fighting abilities are top-notch once more, you may return—once you pass our test to verify. You understand?"

"Yes, General," I reply firmly.

"You are now dismissed."

The thing is, I never really wanted to join the US Army. As much I enjoyed seeing the gratitude on the villagers' faces, fighting and protecting civilians never really was my thing. If someone asked me, years ago, what I wanted to be when I grew up, being a soldier would never have been my answer. But I joined the US Army anyway, for one reason:

Annabeth.

Is the format of this chapter confusing for you? Feel free to PM me if you are confused about anything and I'll be happy to explain :)

Reviews:

The Girl With 4 Fears: She got injured when she was shot and got a knife thrown at her. Happy new year to you too! (Even if it's really late :P) Thanks!

Kinder forever: Yeah, they are! Well, yeah … but he got notified in the middle of the chapter anyways. Thanks!

Average Canadian: You're welcome :) Thanks!

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-K