While Reyna and Jason and Piper deliberated over mountains of increasingly awkward paperwork, and Clarisse LaRue did her best to politely, publicly rip the Senator from South Dakota to shreds, Percy and Annabeth were sitting on the floor of the Deputy Communications Director's office. Annabeth's gown— Oscar de la Renta, deep wine-red with little gold accents, which she'd had to buy for a law school classmate's wedding a few years prior— pooled around her legs, the fabric wrinkling against the carpet. Percy had long since discarded his suit jacket, and his tie hung loose around his neck. between them were dozens of pieces of paper, all with different colored sticky-note tabs.

"We look like we're the crazy podcast people on that Hulu show," Percy said, tapping his pen against one of the stacks of paper. "I'd be Selena Gomez in this comparison, to be clear."

"We don't have enough secret passageways in this half of the building to be anything like them. Also, you're definitely Steve Martin," Annabeth replied automatically. She reached for a yellow legal pad and jotted down a new note. "So, between our papers and Luke's old files, and the news clippings… do you think this is enough to take to Reyna?"

"I mean, it's not proof." Percy fiddled with a paper clip. "But it's pretty damning. I just don't get what he's trying to accomplish, if we're even right about this."

"I think we're right. Hell, there's even a paper trail." Annabeth pointed to the first stack. "Back when he still worked here. Republican polling numbers were dropping because trust in the government was high for once. It's an outside poll, too— Di Angelo put it together for us, ages ago. And looking at how both parties poll in terms of police presence, even before the more recent brutality issues, he polled for that, too."

"And here's ten different drafts he wrote about bipartisanship and gun control, including what was marked as opposition research at the time." Percy glanced at Annabeth. "Did you think, before he resigned to run for office, that all of that opposition work…"

"What, that the position papers he wrote for op prep back then were just his real opinions or drafts for future stump speeches?" Annabeth shook her head, a curl falling out of the updo she'd pinned into place earlier that day. "No. I didn't even think he'd run, and when he did, I thought he'd do it as a Dem. Which, in retrospect, was stupid."

"Not that stupid." Percy frowned. "I've read his stuff. I knew him, a little. He's convincing when he wants to be. I'd have believed him, about reaching across the aisle, and running as a moderate centrist in order to do reform from within or whatever he said when he told Reyna he was leaving."

"I have a copy of his resignation letter," Annabeth noted. "He said he thought he could do more good for the betterment of the republic by attempting to build coalitions and create partnerships, pulling the right back to the center."

"He used those words?" Percy made a face. "That's… really something."

"Again, in retrospect, I should have realized. He always got flowery about things when he was lying. You should have heard him the day I figured out that he didn't actually like chocolate chip cookies." Annabeth dropped her voice as low as she could and put on a pompous air. "'Of course I love them, they remind me of molasses and caramel, like a warm blanket on a cold winter's day, and not at all like a combination of candle wax and the base pastry of the grocery store cookies with the thick frosting that no one really likes. They're a work of art, like Claire Saffitz herself designed the recipe…'"

"Ergh." Percy shook his head. "I don't know what's worse, not liking cookies, or lying about it. Or being bad at lying."

"For me, I think it's knowing who Claire Saffitz is because he's a pretentious prick who wanted me to know that he'd rather have a freaking mille-feuille than a chocolate chip cookie. He wasn't bad at lying when it came to this." Annabeth poked at the collection of newspaper clippings, all of which summed up coverage of Michael Yew's death and the subsequent ant-police uproar. "He was careful. We have so many pieces of the puzzle, and none of it traces back directly to him."

Percy shrugged. "All we need is one more link. An article, where he comes out and says, 'Look, you can't trust the White House.' You think maybe he'll slip up?"

"I'm wondering if we have to create the circumstances for him to say something where we can hear and record it. It's just… it borders on too unbelievable to think anyone would actually do this, let alone…" She grimaced. "Let alone someone who used to work here."

"Let's walk through this one more time," Percy said for what was probably the twelfth time that night. "He, or someone who works for him, paid off a police officer to shoot Michael Yew. In doing so, which he might have done back when he worked here and had access to offices and information, he set up a paper trail to make it look like the order came from the Chief of Staff's office— which he could do, as the Deputy— all to make it look like the White House would engineer any situation to make the public think a certain way about specific issues."

Annabeth nodded. "And we don't know what it's going to look like when someone leaks it, but my guess is it'll be a Breitbart article saying 'Gun Control and Big Government: What the White House Doesn't Want You To Know,' with a whole piece about how the White House is shooting reporters to make regular gun-toting everyday folks think that cops are doing it to provide an excuse to take guns away."

"And we're anticipating a leak, because of the insanity around… well, the reason why my boss and your secretary are sitting in Reyna's office right now." Percy sighed. "And we still don't know where Bob Smalls or whatever his name is was getting the information from?"

Annabeth clicked the pen open, then closed, then open again. "No. And we don't even know if the article was about them. It could just as easily have been about… well, you know."

They sat there in a silence that was companionable but not quite comfortable for a minute. Finally, Annabeth tipped her head to the side, crossed her arms, and asked, "How come you started looking for all of this, anyway? I'm grateful you did, obviously, even if it means that I'm now missing the party that we're both supposed to be attending."

"Ah." Percy ran a hand through his hair, cheeks flushing. "The simple answer, or the real one?"

"Is anything simple anymore?" Annabeth arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Percy insisted. "The fact that someone's essentially got a way to eavesdrop on the White House is bad. The idea that someone's spying, and planting real stories, just to hurt the White House and individuals who work here, also bad."

"Arguably national security risk bad, since the President likes to wheel around the West Wing when he's bored," Annabeth noted.

"Right. Even if I didn't work here, I'd be obligated to find something wrong with that. But I do work here, and so these are attacks on my coworkers, not just my government, and again, that's bad. Bad thing happens, civic responsibility as citizen and government employee kicks in telling me to fix it, or at least to find out the how of it."

"But… that's not the real answer?" Annabeth sat back.

Percy flushed again, looking anywhere but straight at her. "If I'm being completely honest with myself, it got personal the other day. I was out with… a friend, and we were having a good time, and all I could think about was the fact that you were still here at the office, and all I could picture was the look on your face when I stopped in. It was the exact same look you had after the funeral. Michael Yew's, I mean. And I know we don't know where the leaks are coming from, but in the moment, that night, all I could think was that you were crying because of him. Again. And I couldn't fix the leaks, but I could dig into this. So here we are."

"Again?" Annabeth ran her fingertips along the edge of the hem of her dress, adjusting the way it pooled on the floor.

"Like back at Duke," Percy amended. "Back when you two were... doing what you were doing."

"I barely knew you when he and I were together then," Annabeth protested.

"You barely knew me, sure." Percy shrugged. "But I'm just saying. Hard to miss the girl who was ranked first every semester, who knew all the answers, who showed up to class looking like she'd just rolled out of bed but still had perfect princess curls in her hair."

"I can't tell if that's mortifying or sweet."

"Mortifying for you or for me?" Percy shook his head. "Don't answer that. Let's just go with sweet."

"Sure." Annabeth reached out a foot, strapped into gold sparkly heels, and nudged Percy's leg. "But you knew about me and Luke, back then?"

Percy raised both eyebrows. "My god, if you think you kept the secret well back then, I'm shocked no one found out here. Yes, I knew. Everyone knew. If you didn't know your shit forwards, backwards, and inside out there would have been rumors spiraling all over campus that you…"

"Slept my way to the top of the Dean's list. Right." Annabeth finished, voice hushed.

"But they didn't, because you did know everything and clearly deserved the ranking…" Percy reached out and took her hand, which had been nervously fiddling with her pen again. His fingers were warm, his grip reassuring. "Hey. Not the point. I overheard you once, in a break room, arguing about some clerkship he was thinking about taking, and then him shutting you down when you talked about an internship… he was just so ready to shut you down."

"I remember that." It had been a summer internship, one that she'd ended up going for anyway, partially to spite Luke. She wouldn't describe the three months getting coffee for Legislative Affairs a good time, necessarily, but it had led her to the happy hour for prospective lawyers where she'd met Thalia Grace, so there were worse outcomes.

"And," Percy continued, "I walked past a few minutes later, after he'd left, and I just saw you at that table. Crying, because he didn't support your ambitions the way that he expected you to support his."

"It was more complicated than that," Annabeth argued halfheartedly. "I got that internship anyway," she felt the need to inform him.

"I know." Percy flashed her a grin. "You beat me."

"Oh."

"So then, when he graduated and moved to D.C., and you kept holding onto the top spot…" Percy shrugged. "I don't know. You seemed happier. Lighter, somehow."

"And then you came along." Annabeth cracked a rare, wistful smile. "Offered to buy me coffee at five in the morning in the library."

"In my defense, it was morning." Percy squeezed her hand. "Some of us consider five o'clock a morning hour, not a late-night one. I was on my way to practice. Coffee was a perfectly acceptable suggestion."

"I took you up on it, didn't I?" Annabeth moved her thumb in a little circle against his. "We had a good time, back then."

"We did." Percy intertwined his fingers with hers. "And then I left, and we got into a stupid fight, I don't even know about what…"

"I think I yelled at you about your ambitions." Annabeth winced. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I think I owe you and your literal Olympic medal an apology for suggesting that you should have stuck it out with both training and school at the same time."

"Got here just the same, didn't I?" Percy grinned, that same lopsided grin that had taken her breath away back then, too. "Buy me a five a.m. coffee and we'll call it even."

"Done." Annabeth agreed, some pressure sliding away from her chest, lightening a load she hadn't even realized she was carrying.

"Anyway," Percy said, clearing his throat. "I got to D.C. for the Olympic team visit to the… well, here, actually, even though we barely got past the visitors' hall and the Roosevelt Room. And I saw you and him, arguing about something else. And he left, and you sat down at a desk, and… it was the exact same look you had on your face back at school. Only you didn't do the focused, ready-for-battle face you sometimes get after. You just… gave up. I'd never seen you look that defeated before."

"I didn't realize." Annabeth's voice was barely a whisper. She'd known he was there that day, of course. She'd specifically avoided the Roosevelt Room to make sure they hadn't run into each other. Hadn't wanted the awkwardness, after the way they'd parted. Never mind that her throat had still been sore from screaming at the T.V. cheering him on when he'd won and again at the medal ceremony.

"I made myself a promise, that day." Percy cleared his throat. "You'll probably think it's stupid. But I swore then and there that if it was at all within my power, you'd never have a reason to get that look on your face again."

"I don't think it's stupid." Annabeth's voice broke, and she tried to cover it with a chuckle. "A little unrealistic, maybe, but…"

"So. There's your answer." Percy let her hand go, then. He nudged her foot with his leg. "We should take this to Reyna."

Annabeth managed a nod, barely able to hear anything past the rushing in her hears. "We should. But tomorrow, okay? I don't want to walk in there and accidentally hear anything I don't want to about my best friend's sex life or her conversation about it with both of our bosses, one of whom also happens to be the other's ex. Just, hard no."

Percy hid what was probably a laugh with an incredibly fake-sounding cough. "Right. Right, okay." He slid his phone out from his pocket and smiled at a text. "I should get going anyway."

"Hot date?" Annabeth immediately regretted asking.

Percy tucked the phone back away. "Just… a friend. A good one."

"Right." Annabeth hauled herself to her feet, shaking out the dead nerves and the pins and needles that came as a result of sitting on the floor wearing heels for multiple hours. "I should go mingle at the party for a few minutes before it ends."

"Right." Percy stood as well, then held the door for her, resting his hand on the arch of her back for half a second to usher her through it. "Tomorrow, then."