I wasn't gonna say, cos if you haven't read TBM...just no. But spoilers.

~

Dear Diary,

As I hyperventilated in the living room, I thought about trying to sleep again. But what's the point of even trying? The anxiety I was experiencing was beyond unnatural.

I had left his room to get water after my nightmare, but every shadow or object is a monster or someone drooling to murder me. All the lights on the main floor were on now, and I turned on a quiet movie.

And when I heard a hoarse whisper, I jumped on the creature and attacked. I took out my sword, ready to kill, when I recognized the black hair.

"Holy Hephaestus," I muttered. "You scared me half to death."

I got up and sat back down on the couch, and wiped my eyes. If Percy knew I was crying...gods!

He sat next to me and immediately started to play with my curls. "I'm sorry," Percy muttered hoarsely. "Are you okay?"

"Fine."

"Swear it?"

He meant to swear on the Styx. If I lied on a swear to the Styx, I could die. I could actually die. And so, I decided not to answer.

Percy hummed. "Thought so."

I wiped my eyes again, desperate to prove that I was really okay. But that's the thing: I wasn't. I wasn't okay. The worst nightmare I'd ever had haunted me. I tried to keep down my panting, but it was as bad as it was when I woke up. If any neighbor heard...that would be embarrassing. Especially because nothing besides PTSD is happening.

"Was it a nightmare?" he asked me.

It took me about three seconds, but I did nod. Percy rubbed my arms and rested his chin on my shoulder. "We're together, you know. In safety."

Nodding, I leaned into Percy. We rested there for around twenty minutes, my eyes not even flickering shut, and Percy's refusing to close until mine did.

The question crossed my mind again. Did I want to know the answer? My anxiety may only skyrocket further, but was it worth it? I knew what Percy would say, but what if he admits a different answer? The real  answer? 

"Percy," I whispered. "What if, when we're older, I had a son or a daughter? What if this son or daughter has to live the life we do? What if...what if they're evil? Like me." I turn to him. "Are we the bad guys?"

I've asked him before. A total of five times in Tartarus, and a few times after. And he always gave me the same answer: no. But it wasn't the right one. It was the answer he wanted to hear; the answer he thought I wanted to hear.

"You ask that a lot," Percy commented. "And every time, I tell you we're not. We're the good guys, Annabeth. We do the right thing."

"And what about my first questions?"

He seemed like he forgot about them. Percy went over them in his mind and sighed.

"I promise you, I'll do whatever I can to keep them from our lives. And they won't be evil," Percy promised.

"But what if they are?" I snapped, and stood. "You say we're the good guys. But what about Bob?"

"Bob sacrificed himself-"

"What about Damasen?" I continued. "Or Silena? Charlie? Jason?"

"Jason isn't dead!" (we're gonna pretend)

"But he was! He could've been gone forever. But he came back! Like Leo! If we were there! If we were there for Piper, and for Leo, and for-"

"We're the good guys, Annabeth!"

"Do you mean that," I demanded, drowning out his voice, "or are you just telling yourself that? What's the real answer, Percy? You know!"

He sighed, and buried his head in his hands. "We're...not completely good. We're not completely the good guys."

"Thank you." I sunk onto the couch. "I can't stand the lying."

"It's not a lie."

"But it is." I turned to Percy. "At least, about me. You're the son of Poseidon, the child of the prophecy, the  Perseus Jackson, THE  face of the classic good guy. But I'm the bad guy."

"How?" Percy demanded.

"I make the decisions! The bad ones. The ones to kill and to hurt others. It's my fault I'm like this."

"Well. If you're a bad guy, I'm a bad guy, too. We're a team."

"Percy-"

"No exceptions."

Okay. I knew there was no way to change his mind. And I knew at this point that he would do whatever he could to rest his case. Because he's just that  stubborn. What a dork.

My legs were over his legs, and I was lying down while he sat up. "Do you think we could've saved any of them?" I spoke up again.

"Some," Percy sighed.

"What about Silena?" I asked.

Percy rubbed his eyes. I guess he's crying now, too. "No," he whispered. "Unless I-"

"You were fighting off other monsters!"

"But still-"

"Now you sound like me." I sat up and shut him up (interpret how you please ;D). "We're the same like that, you and me."

Percy pressed a long kiss onto my forehead. He decided to twirl my hair in his fingers; a habit he's picked up during Tartarus to deal with stress and anxiety. It was calming for me, too, so it was always a win-win.

"We keep talking about everyone we've lost so carefully. We only mourn them. Let's talk about them - like they're still with us," Percy suggested. "What was Beckendorf like?"

I smiled. "He set us up on a date, didn't he? When we were, like, fourteen?"

Percy laughed. "Yeah, he did. The Fourth of July fireworks." (guys if you haven't read the demigod files you wouldn't know that this is CANON)

"He was always so kind about everything."

"Real respectful guy."

"'Real respectful guy'? Are you kidding?" I laughed. "'Real respectful guy.' Gods, you're such a nerd."

"Look who's talking!" he chuckled. I wacked his arm.

"And Silena was always so helpful and giving." I smiled at the memory of her. But thinking about my smiling hurt.

Because she's just a memory now, nothing more. And she didn't deserve that - she had so much life left to live. Silena Beauregard was going to go to college - she was going to be successful and famous. But she couldn't. Because her life ended too soon.

And then we were back at square one.

Percy noticed and blew raspberry. He squeezed my hand. 

So. Are we the bad guys? The question that had haunted us - all of us - since the days that the Argo II sailed (well, flew) across the world. And the answer?

Yes. Maybe a little. 

Or maybe not. 

But what does it matter? We're alive, and when we do fight, we fight for what we believe is right.

And that's as good as it'll get, isn't it?

~ Annabeth Chase