•Chapter 5•

Hi!

Man, I really do need to work on updating on time. Sorry guys.

Thank you for all the follows/favourites/reviews! :)

Just a quick note: I changed the ages of Annabeth's siblings from ten to twelve because I realized it wouldn't really fit with the storyline, and it'd be more likely to be closer to the canon universe. I believe the only part I changed in this story is in Chapter 3, in Annabeth's letter. It's a small change, really.

I was just reading over my previous chapters, and I was wondering, is the plot going a little too slow, or is it just at the right pace? Please let me know in the reviews!

Happy reading!

2010

Either my mom or my brother knocked on my door, even though it was already open. "Percy, you busy?" the person asked softly.

"Ty, not now," I said without turning around. "I'm trying to complete all my homework." I gestured to the stack of textbooks beside me. "I'm only halfway through English, and I still have to complete a dozen questions for both Math and Science."

"Mama told me to tell you that she wants you in the living room."

Crap. Did I forget to take out the trash or something? "If I forgot to do one of my chores, can you do it for me this time? I'll give you $10," I begged. "Please, little bro, I have a test tomorrow and I've barely studied for it."

"She says it's urgent" was his only response.

"Ty—," I started before looking behind me and realizing that he already was gone. I groaned a little before slamming my textbook shut and got out of my chair. Walking into the living room, I saw my mother sitting on the couch with Tyson at her side, her expression indecipherable, though I could see worry in her slightly creased eyebrows.

I stuffed my hands into the pocket of my hoodie—late February in New York City was still sort of cold—before taking a seat on the recliner next to the TV. "Mom? Tyson? What's wrong?" I asked, my voice filled with concern.

"Percy …" Mom started, her voice heavy. "They found him."

I rose an eyebrow, or attempted to, at least. The ADHD part of me wondered how I looked in my attempt at raising one eyebrow. I bet I had both eyebrows up, with one slightly high—Focus, Percy, I chided myself. Now is not a good time. "Who?" My heart was hammering. No. No. It can't be.

"Your father, Percy." Her voice cracked. "They found him."

"Well, isn't that good news?" I asked her, forcing my tone to be upbeat. "When can I visit him? Maybe Tyson and I could stay at his place for a while, if he has one. Or he could stay here. We haven't seen him in ages." I knew that I was saying random things. I already sensed my mother's next words. A sinking feeling filled my stomach.

She shook her head. "Percy … they found his body. He's dead."

My father was one of a kind. He had two drastic sides of him: one gentle and calm, like the eye of a storm, the other fierce and unpredictable. Tyson and I both had inherited his gentle side. My mom once said that, if he was a god of some sort, his fierce and unpredictable side would sink ships or cause tornadoes.

He went missing eight years ago, when I was nine. I closed my eyes, and think of that morning, when I was eating a breakfast of pancakes, Poptarts, and orange juice, he came over to where I was sitting, and ruffled my hair, ignoring my indignant complaint. My father, a man of 6 feet, with his black hair and green eyes. My father, the person I evidently resemble. He gave me a big hug, wished me a happy birthday, and bid me good-bye as he left for work. That was the last I'd seen of him. I remembered my younger self asking Mom, "Mom, where's Dad?" It was my birthday, and he never showed up to my birthday party, and after that, my birthday dinner. I remembered feeling both sad and angry at him for forgetting. I remembered Mom shaking her head and replying that he was busy and was sorry that he couldn't make it. I remembered her reassuring voice but worried expression.

I turned back to Annabeth's letter.

Dear Percy,

Yeah, I guess my ADHD isn't that bad, compared to yours. I just usually get fidgety if I have to stay perfectly still for more than fifteen minutes. I mean "perfectly still" as in, I can't move a muscle. (Sitting in class for an hour and twenty minutes is alright because at least I can move around and walk up and down the halls when I "go to the bathroom" or "get a binder from my locker.") I take it that you like going water-related activities?

Yeah, thanks, Percy. I'm already rolling my eyes. And if I looked up "imbecile" in the dictionary, your face would be beside it too.

Joking.

( … Or am I? Muahahahahaha ...)

Clearly you don't understand sarcasm. Or maybe you're just too dense to realize sarcasm when you see it. I'll get my friend (his penpal is that Frank dude you mentioned earlier) to ask him if you're really as dense as I think you are.

Sincerely,

Annabeth Chase

P.S. Your question: How can you guys stand him? Mrs. Kerr's twelfth grade English class' answer: We can't.

I twirled my pen around, trying to think of what to say to my penpal. I was still in shock. My father was dead. Gone. He's never going to come back.

His funeral was planned to happen next week. I groaned and rested my head on my desk. I hadn't seen him in eight years. I'd been hoping that we'd meet again, and that he'd actually be my dad, not an M.I.A. dad. I was hoping he'd return to our family, and we'd be together again, like how I always dreamed it to be.

Half-heartedly, I wrote back to the blonde-haired, grey-eyed, soon-to-be-eighteen year old.

Dear Annabeth,

The phrase "without moving a muscle" is on my Top 10 Worst Phrases To Hear list. Ugh. Just reading it already makes me shudder.

Really? "Sitting in class for an hour and twenty minutes is alright." How is that even possible? Even if you can move around, that sounds like torture. Thank goodness classes here are only an hour long … even if that's pretty long for me … (and sort of torturous).

Yeah, I do—especially swimming. But it's not my favorite sport. Riding horses are. (I'm actually a jockey. As in, I competitively ride horses for racing.) It's really fun. You ought to try it sometime.

Wow, I'm hurt. I thought you were nice! How dare you hurt me like that!

Oh, I understand sarcasm. I just decided to focus on the first part of that paragraph.

That "dense" person you're talking to (according to you),

Percy Jackson

2015

I finish eating the meal I bought a while earlier and look at my watch. 8:15. Mr. Chase should be here soon. I gather up my stuff and head to the doors. My foot steps outside just as my cell phone buzzes. Pulling it out, I see it's a text from Annabeth's father.

This is Mr. Chase. Sorry for the late notice, but turns out that Bobby and Matthew had to complete some school project, and had planned to meet up with their partners before school today. I had no idea; they only told me ten minutes ago. I'm afraid that I'll have to pick you up later, at around 9 or so. Sorry about that!

I sigh internally. Guess I'll need to wait an hour more before I can rest. Shooting back a quick message of Alright, no problem, I pocket my iPhone, turn around, and head back inside.

I hate waiting.

"Where do I stay?" I whisper, fiddling with the ring on my finger, as Mr. Chase pulls up to the front of their driveway.

"Hmm?" he murmurs, slightly distracted. "I'm sorry; I didn't catch that."

I repeat what I said earlier in a louder voice. He doesn't answer as he parks the car and hits the button to lower the garage door. Finally, Annabeth's father turns to me, his shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry," he says again, taking his hand off the steering wheel. "We recently converted the guest room into an office." He sighs, rubbing his tired face with his right hand. I can already guess his next words. "You'll have to sleep in Annabeth's room."

I don't say anything. I continue staring at him in shock.

"You know how her bedroom is," he continues. "It won't be too uncomfortable. We'll just change the sheets for you."

"You don't need to do that," I tell him, opening the car door. "I'll be fine. Trust me." I get out and walk towards the front door.

He shakes his head as he gets out of the car, muttering something about "Percy," "torture," and "Annabeth."

Though I don't catch the full sentence, I can already guess what he means. Probably something along the lines of "Percy's gonna torture himself by forcing himself to be constantly reminded of Annabeth's condition." I pretend not to hear him, even though I fully know that he is right.

Mr. Chase opens the door for me and ushers me in. I enter, taking off my shoes and laying them on the rack beside the door. "Percy, you know where Annabeth's room is." I nod. "Make yourself at home." He taps his chin and adds, "Your mother knows you're going to stay here, right?"

I reply yes as I walk towards her room. "It was actually my mom who encouraged me to stay here," I call back. "She said that she'll be fine in New York with Paul. She said, and I quote, 'Don't come back until you are ready to. I know how hard it is for you and the Chases. Paul and I are devastated, too, but I'm sure Annabeth's family will need you more than we do.'"

I gently push open her door, imagining her sitting at her desk, papers filled with scribbles littering her desk and the floor around it. I imagine her blonde hair thrown into a messy ponytail, muttering something incoherent (usually about strategies or formulas) under her breath.

Her bedroom almost looks the same as I last saw it. Almost. The only difference is that there isn't a person named Annabeth in the room, but Mrs. Chase herself. Hearing the door open, she turns her head towards me and straightens up. "Hello, Percy," she greets me, her tone quiet and reserved.

"Hi, Mrs. Chase," I return, my voice just as soft. Sea green eyes meet dark brown ones, and an unspoken understanding passes between my future mother-in-law and I. She nods wordlessly and exits Annabeth's room, to give me privacy.

I drop the green-and-black bag onto the wooden floor with a thump. Everything in this room is so … Annabeth. Everything here screams her slightly messy closet, the tall stack of fiction and non-fiction books on her desk, the pictures of her family and me on the walls … it's impossible to not be reminded of her.

Quickly changing into a different t-shirt and shorts, I stumble into the bed and slip under the covers, tucking my hands behind my head, my face turned towards the ceiling. Closing my eyes, I inhale her lingering scent on her bed, imagining her beside me. After nine months of not sleeping on this bed, her scent is still here. I imagine her playfully teasing me about how I drool in my sleep. I imagine her smiling at me, talking to me, being her adorably genius self.

I smile as I remember all these things, how they happened at one point or another. I remember how we were so blissful and optimistic about life then. We were so carefree. We didn't know the dangers that lay ahead, and when we found out about them, it already was too late. Our world of light had already turned dark.

I close my eyes again, imagining my blonde-haired fiancée, thousands of miles away, laying on the hospital bed, comatose. "You're a fighter, Annabeth," I whisper. "You can do this. I know you can. You can pull through. You can recover. All of us believe in you." I pause, settling into a more comfortable position. "Your family needs you. I need you.

"It physically hurts, Annabeth. That's how much I miss you, how much I need you, how much I love you, how much I …" I roll over and bury my face into the pillow. "Please," I breathe out. "Please." I fall silent, wishing with every ounce of my soul that my girl can hear me.

Sleep soon starts to overtake me, but before I am fully off to the land of dreams, one more thing lingers in my mind:

We believe in you, Annabeth. Please don't let us down.

Reviews:

percabethbooklion: That's mine too! :P Thanks!

Average Canadian: Actually, I originally made him British, but I figured that since I've never been to any part of the UK or have known any British person, I didn't want to offend them in case I hit a nerve or something. Ya know what I mean? I'm Canadian, so I know all the hilarious and far-fetched stereotypes that everyone finds funny (like how it's permanently winter here), but I don't know about Britain. I am not a part of their culture, so I figured to just play the safe route and not ask for a possible death wish :P Nah, we can do it together :P Thanks!

writingmermaid: New reviewer! Aw, thank you! I kind of work really hard on the heart-wrenching parts, which is part of the reason why my updates are so slow (and because I suck at updating in general lol), but I'm so glad that you like it! Thanks!

fer . rosales . 3386: New reviewer! Thanks!

Angelthegenderconfusedcat: New reviewer! Yeah, I know we aren't like that. Thanks!

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Thanks for reading!

-K