Chapter Sixteen We Were Born to Die

"Oh Annabeth," Thalia said as she hugged her best friend when she picked Annabeth up at the airport. It had been one long week of something Annabeth couldn't even describe. She didn't even remember most of it.

She remembered the funeral, being too choked up to say a single word. She remembered crying but not remembering why. She just cried and cried. It all seemed like a cloud of emotions. It all seemed to blend together into one large hazy grey sky.

She was still shaking from seeing her father dead in his coffin. She knew that he was going to die someday but why did it have to be so soon? Why did the gods have to take him?

Why?

That question was constantly echoing in her mind.

"Come on let's get you home," Thalia said as she picked up Annabeth's duffle bag and slung it over her shoulder and then wrapped an arm around Annabeth and for the second time that year, led her out of the airport and to her car.

Annabeth didn't speak the whole ride back.

When she got to her apartment, Thalia insisted on walking her to her door. "I'm fine Thalia," Annabeth tried to tell her, but she would hear no such thing.

"You might think you're fine Annabeth Chase, but I know you better, this is what best friends do. They make sure that you're alright and I know right now that you're not," Thalia said as she dropped Annabeth's bag down and went to go start on some tea.

Annabeth just sat down on her couch, staring absentmindedly into space.

She kept seeing images of her dad's pale face, cold as ice, lying in the coffin.

She shuddered and clutched her pillow.

No child should ever have to see their parent dead.

But that was the sick reality of life.

She went to bed

"How are the songs coming along?" Nico asked over the phone.

"Fine, they're going fine," Percy said. He was laying on his back, one hand holding the phone to his ear and the other one holding a letter up to the light which was streaming through the sunlight in his studio, his eyes studying the paper.

"You're still trying to find here aren't you?" Nico said with a sigh.

"Yep," Percy said, popping the p.

"I knew I shouldn't have left you alone," Nico said. He had left to go a National Conference thingy that Percy could care less about, except for the fact that it was in Florida near Disney World. Disney World always sounded like a fun place to go to. It made Percy laugh knowing that he'd never been there and yet he could probably afford to rent Disney World out for a week.

"I'm not a kid Nico, I'm fine," Percy said, staring at the sheet of paper that the company had sent to him.

"Percy, you're laying on the floor staring at a piece of paper aren't you?" Nico asked. Percy was silent. "And I've bet that that piece of paper is from the company that works that website that you're always on that the story was on."

"Sometimes I think that you're a ghost or something and you're standing right behind me at this very moment," Percy said with all seriousness. Nico snorted.

"No Percy, I just know you well enough. Now can you please get back to work? I don't think your mystery girl wants to be found."

"Why do all the girls I fall in love with have to be hiding behind a mask? First was my letter writer who hid behind her letters, and then there was Annie at the masquerade who hid behind and literal mask, and now there's WiseGirl36 who's hiding behind a computer screen. Why do I always have the worst luck with girls?" Percy groaned.

"Come on Percy, she's probably some thirty something year old who's already married and has a two year old driving her nuts," Nico said.

Percy snorted. "Nico, if you actually read her author's notes than you'd know that she's just out of college and is probably in her early twenties. I'm sorry but no thirty year old mom writes like this."

"Good point," Nico said and then there was silence. Finally he continued. "Percy, why do you even care? It's just a story."

"Because," Percy said and then hesitated. Why did he care about what was going on with this WiseGirl36? Why did it bother him if he didn't know how the story ended? Why did he care? It was just a story. There were plenty of other stories out there to read. Right?

No.

There was something about this story, something about it that spoke to him in ways that other stories didn't. It was the way she crafted her words as if each one mattered, as if each word spoke to her. It was as if she understood human nature. As if she felt for everyone she wrote for.

And that was why he had to find her.

She cared about him, even though she didn't know who he was.

He would care for her.

"Because she cares," he said. Nico didn't answer.

There was a buzzing on his phone and Percy pulled it away from his ear and then looked at it. "Listen I got to go Nico, they've got an address for me." And then he didn't wait for Nico to respond before hanging up and looking at the address from the company who ran Writer's Corner. With a few strings and connections he was able to find out WiseGirl36's address.

Nothing really was safe on the internet.

6B Janus's Doors Apartments. New York City, New York.

Annabeth sat on her old couch in her sweats, her computer pulled up in front of her and a mug of tea at her feet. She hadn't left the house in days. She wasn't in the mood. She ordered take out and sat in front of the TV watching the saddest movies she owned.

Crying made the pain feel better.

W4W: Sometimes it's better to just let the flood gates open. Sometimes it's better to just cry and let it all out. Let the emotions go. It's better than bottling it all up and then letting it explode because sometimes our hearts can't take that. Sometimes it takes the strong people to actually cry.

But she had finally decided to check Writer's Corner.

She hadn't been on for over a week.

Her inbox was filled with over a hundred messages. There were over a thousand new reviews.

But instead of being excited Annabeth wearily clicked on the first one. She was slightly terrified to read it.

TamaracResort: What the heck was that? Was that the end? If it was it was TERRIBLE! How can you kill your main character? It's evil. You're evil.

LaceyLu: I used to like this story but now I can't stand it. How can your bear to write this knowing that you're just going to kill your main character in the end? I won't have gone near it if I knew that Hannah was just going to die!

Yancey(YOLO)Olson: Is this even legal in the laws of writing? Can you just kill your main character?

SPepperstein: I'm confused as to why you did this. Are you emo or something? Do you like Death? This is just depressing.

TraceyGerman: One word: UHG!

Annabeth leaned back into her couch, shuddering. That was exactly the response she had been hoping for. Why couldn't they see her point of view? Why couldn't they see?

Why didn't they understand?

And that was when the doorbell rang.

Janus's Doors was a sleazy looking apartment in the lower area of New York. Percy stood in front of the old building, looking down at the piece of paper in his hand and then back at the building. Yep, this was the right address Lindsey, the girl who was working at Writer's Corner when Percy had called, had given him. He had bribed her with free tickets and backstage passes to his next show and a free first copy of his new album.

Then again if he never figured out how the story ended he would never finish the album.

He realized that this story, The Letter Writer, was inspiring him. It made him think, it made him fill his mind with music and lyrics, just like his own letters did. Without knowing the ending it would drive him nuts.

It was his story.

Only this time, he wanted to make sure that the boy got the girl.

Hannah could not die. WiseGirl36 or Annabeth Chase as was her name that Percy was given, could not kill her.

Annabeth Chase, a twenty two year old girl who lived in New York City. Percy had memorized her profile and found certain things almost eerily familiar:

(AN: The Following is a piece of Annabeth's Profile for Writer's Corner)

WiseGirl36- I live in the Big Apple and no I don't have a view of Central Park if you're wondering, instead it's a lovely view of a wall… and an alley. I'm a dreamer who's trying to make her own fairytale, I'm a believer trying to writer her own story, I'm a freedom seeker trying to find the Light. I write to know that I am not alone. I write to know that I am not the only one suffering. In my life I've gone through trials but I know you have too. So let's go through the trials together shall we?

It sounded so familiar and it caused Percy to continue on his search for Annabeth Chase, a girl who seemed to breathe words.

And his search had led him to Janus's Doors.

Her apartment was on the second floor. It was the sixth door. There was a little brass number six that was slightly crooked. Percy took a deep breath.

It was the moment of truth.

Whoever lay on that other side of the door… well… he'd find out soon enough.

Percy knocked on the door.

And it opened

A girl around his age with long blonde curls pulled back into a ponytail and wearing sweats opened the door and stared at him. Her skin was tan like she had been in the sun for a long time and she looked athletic and fit. But there were bags under her brilliant grey eyes that were like storms.

Grey eyes he'd seen before.

And had been captivated by.

"You're Annabeth Chase?" Percy asked, his eyes opening wide. She shrugged and leaned against the doorway to her apartment, studying him as if trying to determine the best way to take him down if it came to a fight.

"Depends on who's asking."

"You're WiseGirl36," he said. "You wrote the Letter Writer."

"Yeah, so?"

And in that moment something changed in Percy. This girl that had been at one point just some person on the other side of the computer screen was now standing before him, he was in the presence of a genius and he had no idea what to say.

Some things were best left unspoken.

Like the awe inspiring feeling he got just looking at this girl who had crafted a story so beautiful. And she was as old as him. And she seemed familiar… like he knew her before. Like he had laughed with her, like he knew her.

But from where.

He never had been good at names and faces.

"What happens?" Percy asked. Annabeth yawned, and then looked at Percy with a curious look on her face.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"How does the story end? The Letter Writer?" Percy said slowly. She looked at him confused.

"Didn't you read the last chapter, Chapter 23?" Annabeth asked.

"Of course I did, why else would I be here?"

"Then you know how it ends, she dies, the end. Finis. Hence the title. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to bed." Annabeth made a movement to try and shut the door to her loft but Percy stuck his foot in between the door and the frame causing it to stop. Annabeth scowled at him.

It was kind of cute how she scowled.

"What do you mean? It ended with Hannah in the hospital and Birch on his way to try and talk to her and then it just stopped-"

"Mid sentence, yes I know," Annabeth said impatiently.

"And then I thought that it might be a-"

"Typeo. It's not."

Percy stared at Annabeth with wary eyes. "It's kind of creepy how you finish my sentences like you know what I'm going to say. Are you one of those creepy psychics or something?"

"No, I'm not," Annabeth said, sounding as if Percy was stupid. "I've just read all the hate mail." She closed her eyes and leaned against the doorframe even more as if she couldn't stand. "Okay here we go: Hannah died, hence the midsentence stop. That's the end."

"It doesn't make sense though, it-"

"Of course it makes sense! Death is a reality! That's how the story ends. That's how all stories end, not with a kiss or a hug or a happily ever after. It ends in Death, sorry. That's the truth and I'm sorry that most people don't understand that."

"But you're writing a story! Not real life! Stories end in happily ever after!"

People began to open their doors and look at the scene in the hallway of the two of them arguing. Percy instinctively pulled the baseball cap he was wearing lower. He was amazed that Annabeth hadn't started screaming his name yet. But then again, she seemed slightly out of it.

Annabeth sighed. "Okay look, I don't want my neighbors thinking I'm a moron. Come on in and let me get dressed and then we'll go get coffee or something like that." She opened the door for him. "My first stalker fan and I'm letting him in. I must be going crazy," he heard her mutter as he stepped in.

Inside her loft was filled with books and smelled like coffee.

"I'm going to get dressed, please don't steal anything. Not like there's anything to steal," Annabeth called as she climbed into her small loft area and pulled the curtain.

Percy found himself sitting on a couch similar to the one he used to sit on when he was younger, it was bought from a Thrift Store. You could tell the signs: the old stains, the squeaking springs.

The loft was the size of Percy's studio and yet it was nice. It messy and yet at the same time it was organized. Books were everywhere and paper was scattered with pencil and pen markings all over.

Annabeth appeared from behind her curtain wearing tight jeans and a sweater. She pulled on her boots and then her coat and turned to look at Percy, her brow furrowing. "Do I know you?" She asked as she grabbed her bag.

"I'm pretty sure you don't," Percy said quickly as they headed out the door.

"Hmm… you just seem familiar. Your eyes at least do. Is Riki's fine?"

Riki's was crowded and Percy and Annabeth found a booth towards the back of the restaurant, both of them sitting on one side, staring at each other. A peach mango smoothie and a salad sat in front of Annabeth and a burger, fries and a blue coke was in front of Percy.

They didn't speak.

Annabeth's eyes were focused on his coke. And then she cleared her throat. "Why is it blue?" She asked suddenly.

Percy looked up, surprised. "Um… it's just something between my mom and I and I guess I never grew out of it." He shrugged. "Riki's in the only place I know that gives me blue coke."

Annabeth nodded. "Riki's has everything."

Silence again.

"So what did you say your name was again?" Annabeth said.

"I didn't."

"Oh… well since you know mine I think it's only fair that I know yours," Annabeth said. Percy shrugged.

"It's Percy," he said.

"Percy…" Annabeth said, her voice trailing off and her eyes focusing on something that didn't seem to be in the restaurant. "That sounds familiar."

"Yeah well… there's the Percy Jackson," Percy said, trying to avoid being recognized. "Maybe that's why it's familiar."

"Probably," Annabeth said, shrugging. "So why did you want to talk to me?"

"How could you kill her?" Percy asked.

"Because she had cancer, terminal cancer. The word terminal basically means death. It wasn't like she was going to mess with the laws of the universe and go against the definition of terminal," Annabeth said.

"But what about Dr. Tanner's daughter Tara. She survived."

"Tara was the 1/10 that survive, that means nine other kids died. She was an anomaly to the system Most of the time not everyone is special like that."

"You can't kill Hannah though."

"It's life. We're not all the 1/10, in fact usually we're the 4 or the 8 or even the 9. And no one hears about us. Sometimes, most of the time, we die. I'm only writing about life."

"Life's unfair then."

"What else is new?"

"It's depressing," Percy argued. "It's a depressing story."

"Life is depressing. Life is just for Death."

"But that's not all life is," Percy argued. Annabeth folded her arms and leaned back in her seat, looking at Percy curiously. "It's not just about Death."

"Then what else is it?" Annabeth asked. "You get up every day, go to work, live a monotonous life. And every day you're only getting closer and closer to Death. Some just die quicker than others."

"But life isn't just Death. It's a journey. It's an adventure. You're not just moving straight towards Death. It's more like a crooked line that you're walking on, it doesn't go straight to death. It dances back and forth between different emotions like love and hate, between different events in your life like your birthdays and your wedding day." Percy's eyes rolled upwards as he searched for a better analogy. "It's like a song."

"A song?" Annabeth asked.

"Yeah, a song. A song starts of slow and quiet and then it gets louder and more beautiful. Songs always end but the music fades off and usually if it's a good song it'll be in your mind for forever. The same is true with life. It starts off slow but slowly it picks up pace and it's beautiful. When it starts ending, that's when I find that the impact is the biggest. And if it's a good life, then everyone will remember you and your life. Life goes on, life doesn't end even in Death," Percy argued.

Annabeth laughed. "You're not a writer are you?"

Percy shook his head. "Nope, I'm more the musician type."

"Then why do you care?"

"Because you understand words and your story brought me something I can't describe. And I don't think that mankind deserves an ending like that. I don't think your readers deserve an ending like that. We're not made to love depressing things, we're made to love happy endings. I think that there's something else going on that caused that ending," Percy said.

Annabeth looked at her hands. "Are you sure you're not a psychologist?"

Percy laughed this time, "Positive, I'd probably fail college if I tried to become one."

Annabeth sighed and leaned forward, studying the lines in her hands. "You know you're the first one to tell me that. I've got a boat load of hate mail but no one really asked me why."

"Well I'm asking you, why?" Percy asked.

Annabeth's grey eyes looked out the glass window at the busy streets of New York City, all the people passing through without knowing what was going on in other people's lives. They were just so focused on their own.

"I met with Death," she whispered to herself. Percy looked at her, slightly confused. She sighed again. "My dad just died last week."

Percy was silent. That explained it. Death changed a person.

"It's not like I was really close with him or something, it's just… he was my dad," Annabeth shrugged. "And it made me realize that everyone's going to die. So why should Hannah live?"

Percy looked at her. "Because we want hope."

Annabeth looked up at him, her grey eyes meeting his green ones. "What?" She asked.

"It's because we want hope. We crave hope. And we hate stories that end without hope. If you're going to kill Hannah at least give it some closure. At least give us some hope. Write the story you want to write, write how the world should be and maybe it will become that way."

Annabeth laughed but a sob was echoing at the back of her laugh. "You can't change something by just writing it."

"Hey, don't you remember the Declaration of Independence? That was written," Percy pointed out. And then he paused. "That was the name…right?"

Annabeth snorted but nodded. "I'm guessing you weren't the greatest in school."

"Nope, not at all," Percy said, grinning.

Annabeth studied him, tapping her jaw. "You seriously seem familiar, are you sure we've never met… it's something about the eyes. I don't think I could forget those eyes…" her voice trailed off and then she snapped back to attention.

Her phone buzzed. She looked at it. It was a text from Luke: Hey. I heard about your Dad. Can I come over in a few hours?

"I have to go," Annabeth said standing up.

"You'll think about what I said?" Percy asked. Annabeth paused and then slowly nodded.

"I will." She then dug around in her purse for a piece of paper which she tore out and scrawled her phone number on. She shoved it into Percy's hand. "I don't know what I'm giving a total stranger my phone number, but there it is."

She turned on her heels and then paused. "Oh and if your day job ever fails, I seriously suggest looking into becoming a psychiatrist or something."

Percy grinned. "Thanks, I'll take that into consideration."

And she grinned back.

And in that small diner, in New York City, something strong was at work.

Annabeth sat in front of her computer, tapping her fingers nervously against her table where she sat. The words that Percy had spoken to her where still spinning around in her head.

Hope.

She wanted to change the world. How could she do that if she was writing something depressing? People craved hope, not sorrow.

Annabeth clicked the new chapter button on Writer's Corner and then began to type:

(Excerpt from Chapter 24 It's Not the End from the Letter Writer by WiseGirl36)

Chapter 24 It's Not the End

Author's Note: Hello all of you out there who have been reading my story, The Letter Writer. I know you were all shocked with how the last chapter ended and you thought it was the end. To be honest, I thought it was the end as well. But then I met with someone today. He was one of those people that I think Fate puts into your life because they're like your angel. They change your views, they lift you up. Anyway, he convinced me that it can't be the end. Just goes to show that encouragement is a lot better than hate (hint, hint to all of you who said I was evil and a terrible writer… that's not what got me back to writing). So here we go.

It's not the end… at least not yet.

And then-

The beeping slowed a bit.

It became the calm rhythmic beating that meant that Hannah's heart was still beating. She slowly opened her deep violet eyes and realized that she wasn't dead.

At least not yet.

She looked around. Dr. Tanner was smiling at her. "You're a trooper Hannah," he said, his eyes sparkling. "You pulled through."

Hannah gave a weak smile. "So what's next?" She managed to croak out. She saw that her parents weren't in the room with her. They were probably planning her funeral… they probably thought that she had died. What awesome parents…

"Next we get you better and out of here," Dr. Tanner said with a smile. "But first, there's a young man here to see you. He says his name is Birch Waters…"