T W E N T Y - T W O
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"So, let me get this straight. You got permission from McGonagall to see Annabeth?" Clarisse repeated for the millionth time with a scowl that was practically permanently plastered on to her face. She huffed. "And you didn't even have to ask! She just gave it to you!" 

Percy's own scowl deepened. "I spent weeks begging for her to let me leave school. I'm sorry that I just gave up!"

"Well I didn't!" Clarisse protested, throwing her hands up in the air, frustrated. "I did more than pass on messages to camp, you know, asswipe!"

He averted his eyes, looking back down at the book in his hands. It read something like; ROESHE FO SPMYLOU.

He and Clarisse were at the library under the pretence that they were studying. Percy was ninety-five percent sure that the book he was 'reading' wasn't even relevant to anything he actually needed to know. He dumped it in the ever growing stack of books that were illegible to his dyslexic mind.

"When are you going?" Clarisse demanded, surveying him with a calculating look, eyes narrowed. He knew what she was doing. She was searching for any sign of the old him.

So was he.

He just wasn't sure where to find him.

"Saturday," he confirmed, twirling his ballpoint pen in his fingers, letting the rhythmic movements satisfy his short attention spam. It distracted him from the library.

He hated the place.

The smell of books and knowledge. The smell of ink. It smelled like her. He hated that too, knowing that he hadn't done anything to help her. After his happiness of being able to see Annabeth had faded, it had been replaced with a sickening feeling in his stomach.

"It's called guilt," Clarisse deadpanned, reading his thoughts. She didn't try to reassure him that it wasn't his fault, that there was nothing he could have done and to stop beating himself up about it. She told it like it was and left it at that. When he didn't respond, Clarisse kicked him in the shin. "Well?" she pressed. "What do you want me to say? That it's okay all of this has happened? That I understand? Well I don't! I'm not going to say that. It is your fault! You've done nothing when you could have done anything. The sooner you realise that, water boy, the better." Her words cut deeper than a sword and Percy didn't have the strength to pull the blade from his chest.

"I told you about Leo," he said, moulding his face so it displayed anything but what he was really feeling.  "Now you tell me what you know."

"I'll let Chiron know about Saturday," she said, ignoring his statement. "That is, unless you've decided you actually have the capability to do that yourself."

"I'm not totally hopeless." He glowered at her.

"Could've fooled me."

"Tell me what you know," he repeated. "I'm going to find out anyway."

Clarisse didn't respond.

"Tell me!"

"La rue! Jackson!" Madame Pince materialised from behind them, her arms folded over her chest, posture rigid, shoulders back and an unwavering sour look on her face. "If I hear another word from your mouths it'll be twenty points from the both of you and I won't allow you to disturb my library another minute. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," they chorused.

"That's what I thought."

Percy waited for her to be far enough away that they were out of hearing range before facing Clarisse again and pointing his pen at her throat. "I'm not afraid of your stupid pen!" she hissed. "Still, you're better off not knowing."

"I don't care."

"You really want to know, punk? Fine Harry's blood is gold. That's right. Gold." She let the words hang in the air.

"You're kidding."

"Does it look like I'm kidding, you ignorant swine?"

An angry stream of curse words exited Percy's mouth that his mother surely would have reprimanded him if she had heard. "Why didn't you tell me that before?" he whisper-yelled. "You didn't think that it was important?"

"Of course I thought it was important! Why didn't you tell me about Leo before?" she retorted.

He stayed silent which was the only answer she needed. "Exactly!"

"What else?" he prodded, his tone conveying a sense of urgency. He would have grabbed her shoulders and shaken her just to get answers but when Clarisse was involved, things would only get worse.

The child of Ares had the audacity to sigh at his question. "Lightning bolt boy looked like he'd just got up, for the gods' sake the kid was in his pajamas! My guess is that he'd had a dream and panicked. Probably the same one you witnessed when you decided to have some nap-time in the stables like the animal you are." Percy allowed that insult to slide. "And what? You said a tree branch fell on his arm? I'm guessing he was injured. He was bleeding gold from what was probably the same arm when I saw him."

"Like Annabeth? She- she was sleeping when...you think she was injured?" he questioned. His heart beat quickened with excitement. They were getting somewhere. They could figure out what had happened and they could—

"Her nose was bleeding for no reason. It didn't look like she had been punched and if anyone knows punches, its me. So it must have been something else." Clarisse smirked when she saw the look on his face. "So there you go, Prissy." She sat back, crossing her arms. "Now we have something to go with."

"Don't call me that."

"I'll call you what I like, Prissy." She stood up with a smug look, like she knew she'd won. "And here, this is for you." She reached into her robes and tossed him a crumpled envelope. The seal had been broken and it was clear that Clarisse had already gone through its contents. "Celeste's Homemade Garments, 934, Elms Street," she said, lowering her voice, "Saturday."

"What?"

"Lou Ellen told me to tell you. She said you'll understand. Read it." She motioned to the letter.

"When did you talk to Lou Ellen?"

"At that Pigsmeade place yesterday, when I was still busy doing everyone else's dirty work. I told you, someone had to stay in contact with camp and since you still hadn't got your crap together, that someone was me," she snarked bitterly. The burly girl bent down to scoop up her books, a few stray pages falling out.

"Don't do anything stupid," were her final words as she exited the library.

Percy stared at the letter and the familiar Camp Half Blood address printed on it in Chiron's handwriting. Internally debating against whether or not he wanted to read what was inside, he finally decided on opening it. The writing was smudged but the message was legible.

Percy,
I understand it's been difficult, and whilst I would like to inform you of everything, I cannot possibly.
Clarisse has the address. Go there.

Camp and Activities Director
Mr. Brunner

The letter was as informative as ever. Frustrated, Percy remembered what Nico had said all those weeks ago. "You're being watched."

Come to think of it, he still didn't know what it was that Nico had really wanted to tell him that night in the Gryffindor Common Room. With everything that had happened it slipped his mind. He made a mental note to find out.

As he gathered his things, he came to the conclusion that there was also something Clarisse still wasn't telling him. Part of him hoped he would never find out. Life would be easier without complications. One way or another, he knew he needed to know. Something told him he would find out soon enough.

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On Saturday morning, Percy was ready and waiting by the Hogwarts train platform. The place remained vastly empty with the other students having no reason to be there other than when they were entering or leaving the school, something which didn't happen very often.

The only reason Percy was at the platform was because McGonagall had told him his legal guardian would be waiting for him there. Hidden and out of sight, the platform was the perfect place to wait. No one would know he was leaving the school.

There was just one problem. His mother was nowhere to be found.

At half past eight, Percy had become restless and impatient. His nerves and thoughts were no longer enough to occupy himself and he was ready to go back to the castle when out of thin air popped his stepfather.

Paul Blofis hadn't changed much. His small pot belly was ever present and the same went for his greying hair. However, there was one small difference, namely his clothing choices. He had swapped his 'English teacher outfits' for the most uncoordinated combination of clothing Percy had ever seen. Percy didn't know much about fashion but he did know that a rainbow tie dye shirt and dress pants did not go together like at all. To make matters worse, Paul had strung three different coloured ties around a rope and had knotted it around his waist. The cowboy hat wasn't helping his case either.

"Paul?" he managed, running over to his swaying stepfather. Up close, Percy noticed the faint greenish tint his skin had taken. "What are you doing here?"

Clutched tightly in his stepfather's hands was an ugly chipped flowerpot which he was holding on to for dear life. Taking the rest of his outfit into consideration, Percy decided the flowerpot was the least of his worries. "Are you okay?" he asked, helping him to the lone bench on the platform.

"I should be asking you." Paul offered him a half-hearted smile. "And didn't the Headmistress tell you I was coming?"

Percy scratched his head, ignoring Paul's obvious attempt of comforting him. "I thought she meant Mom-" He stopped mid-sentence as Paul lurched forwards and heaved into the flower pot. When he was done emptying his stomach, he placed the not-so-empty pot awkwardly on the floor, a red blush gracing his cheeks. "Sorry about that, Percy. I'm not exactly used to the whole demigod thing let alone wizards, but I have to admit, it is pretty awesome." He chuckled and the ties around his waist shook.

"It is cool," he admitted, "if you leave out the whole 'everyone is dying' thing."

Paul coughed awkwardly. "Uh, I heard about Annabeth." Percy thought that was kind of obvious. "If there's one thing I know, it's that you're going to get her back. She's lucky to have you."

No she's not, he wanted to say. I'm a terrible person. I let her down when she needed me most.

"Where's Mom?"

"Something came up," Paul said. "So I came instead.

Percy frowned. "Is she okay? I can't get through to her." He'd tried Iris Messenging her the day before and was greeted with static. He'd even sent her an owl and received no response.

"That's strange. Have you tried contacting anyone else?"

"Not in at least a month." Clarisse had said she had but she might have just been trying to guilt trip him.

"I'll tell Sally to give you a call, later," he offered.

"Sure," he muttered. His internal organs squirmed with unease.

"Well," Paul checked his watch. "We should get going." He stood up and brushed down his very bright and colourful shirt.

"Paul, what are you wearing?" Percy finally gathered the courage to ask.

His stepfather grinned. "It's my costume. I heard wizards don't have much fashion sense when it comes to fitting in the mortal world so it's the perfect disguise."

Percy closed his mouth as a fly whizzed past. "Okay...."

"Did the Headmistress tell you how we are supposed to get there?"

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Uh, kind of." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a teapot. "She said it was a Porky? I don't really know what I'm meant to do with it."

Paul took one look at the teapot and paled. "I'd rather shadow travel then use that thing again," he said bluntly. "Don't you have a flying horse? Jack Black? Wouldn't that be easier?"

"Pegasus," he corrected. "And it's Blackjack, not Jack Black. But what's so bad about this? It's just a teapot." He held it up to the light to double check that it was in fact a teapot.

"It's the world's worst teleportation device," Paul insisted.

"That sounds cool–"

"Percy."

"Okay, okay." He tossed the teapot into the flowerpot where it promptly disappeared.

Paul hadn't a chance to thank him before Percy's infamous taxi cab whistle sounded through the platform. It was only a few minutes later that Blackjack's silhouette was seen up above them, the black of his coat contrasting with the dreary grey sky. The pegasus landed gracefully, with a mighty swish of his tail. "At your service, Boss. Where to?"

By the time they arrived in London it was almost twelve and Percy and Paul were glad their flight was over. One grown man and one almost adult sharing a pegasus' backside was not something they wanted to relive. Percy was wishing they'd taken the teapot. It couldn't have been that bad...

Blackjack left them in a deserted train station before taking off to the sky once more in search of some British donuts. He'd claimed they were heaven on earth.

Fortunately for them, the hospital wasn't too far. Concealed in an abandoned department store, it went unnoticed to mortal eyes and Percy doubted he would have known that's what it was if not for Paul who had some background knowledge from Sally.

"This is it," Percy whispered, shoving his shaking hands into his hoodie.

Paul strolled towards the ugly brick-box of a department building and casually leaned against the window. He beckoned for Percy to do the same. The hideous dust coated mannequin displayed in the glass behind them made Percy shift uncomfortably. "What are we doing?" he asked his stepfather.

"We're here to see Annabeth Chase," Paul said, looking over Percy's head and at the dummy.

Next thing he knew, they were walking through a sheet of glass and into an overly populated room, flowing with various witches and wizards. Percy looked back to where they'd come from and blinked. There was empty wall. He pressed his palm to the plaster and was met with a solid surface.

Beside him, Paul let out a nervous laugh. "I was worried that wasn't going to work. The headmistress's instructions were kind of brief."

"Paul," Percy said, "you're a mort-muggle. Why did they let you in to a wizard hospital?"

His stepfather looked sheepish. "Uh, they kind of didn't. Technically, I shouldn't be here but your mom figured that if I blended in well enough, no one would know the difference."

Percy looked up and down at Paul's clothing. "Great blending in," he muttered. Still, something didn't sit right with him. Wizards weren't stupid. They had magic. Wouldn't they have put a muggle prevention spell on the building or something?

Quietly, he and Paul pushed through the crowd until they reached the front desk that could only be reception. The witch manning the desk was bustling back and forth, snappily directing some to the correct floors. She didn't look happy.

"Excuse me, mam," Paul shouted over the noise. "We're here to see Annabeth Chase. Do you know what floor she's on?"

"Hey I was waiting first!" a scrawny looking man protested. His getup was possibly worse than Paul's. It wasn't a lie that wizards had no idea about regular people fashion choices.

"Winston," the witch at the desk grumbled, "I already told you your ex-husband is on floor three." Quiter, she muttered, "no wonder he's an ex." Percy snorted.

The comment didn't go unheard by Winston who shouted some choice words and stalked off. The witch turned to face Percy and Paul. "Annabeth Chase, fourth floor, spell damage," the witch told them, sparing a quick glance at the long list on the desk.

"Thank you." The two of them edged their way out of the crowd, narrowly avoiding their toes being trodden on.

"I think it's this way," Paul said, pointing to the way Winston had gone moments ago in a spectacular display of insults and arrogance.

Percy was trembling as they tried to navigate the corridors. They passed through hallways lined with portraits and other interesting objects, none of which he payed much attention to. As they climbed a flight of stairs, the thing he found most interesting was the floor beneath his feet. When they arrived at the fourth floor, Percy didn't want to look up. He walked forwards uncertainly as Paul asked a wizard for directions.

"Two doors down," the wizard responded.

Percy's vision blurred as they came to a standstill outside the door he knew Annabeth could only be behind. His stomach contorted and he placed a hand against the wall for support. "Can you-"

"I'll go for a walk," Paul said. "And I think I need to use the bathroom. I'll probably take a while. I'll meet you back at the train station in a few hours."

Percy nodded his thanks.

Paul lingered for a second longer before turning and heading back the way they'd come.

Taking a deep breath, Percy rested his hands on the knob and opened the door.

It was eerily quiet and empty. Two of the four beds in the room were vacant and the ones that were occupied had the curtains drawn. Immediately he knew the last bed belonged to Annabeth.

Slowly, he took shaky steps towards her. He wobbled precariously as if he were on a tightrope when really he was just walking in a straight line. Suddenly, walking forwards seemed like the hardest thing he'd ever done.

Steadying himself against the bed post, he pushed aside the drapes. Percy forgot what it was like to breathe. The air lodged in his throat, and spots danced across his field of vision. His strength failed him and he sunk to his knees, sparkling tears escaping from his eyes.

Annabeth's own eyes were closed and her skin had lost most of its colour and looked like it would shatter if he so much as let out a breath. She was as grey as Percy felt. Bandages covered one arm; her wrist and hand, with the crimson of normal blood seeping through. The dried blood that had once decorated her nose was gone. The only movement was coming from the steady rise and fall of her chest and the breeze from the open window ruffling her hair. Thanatos was breathing in her ear, beckoning her over to the other side. That, Percy knew.

"A–Annabeth," he choked. A sob escaped him and he tried so desperately to keep the tears from coming- he really did. Nonetheless, they came, cascading down his face in a waterfall of pain and sadness.

He grasped her still hands in his and held on tight. They were as cold as ice. It was like holding on to a dead person. The clock on the wall made quiet movements, the consistent ticking going in time with the beat of Annabeth's heart.

Percy didn't know how long he sat there like that, calling her name and crying, begging for her to please just WAKE UP!" Then something inside of him just broke. He couldn't take it anymore. So he ran.

He ran to the door and flung it open, face red and eyes swollen.

His lips parted in surprise as he came face to face with Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter, each of them looking equally astounded. He didn't care.

HE DIDN'T CARE. 

He kept on running.

Running.

Running.

Running.

Down the stairs. Through the corridors.

Running.

Running.

Across the streets, twisting and turning. Through the crowds.

Running.

Running.

Finally, he came to a stop on Elms Street where his feet had unknowingly carried him and he collapsed. A sobbing wreck in the middle of a street somewhere in England.

How long he sat there, he didn't know. Seeing Annabeth had reminded him of things. Things he'd forgotten that he needed to remember. He remembered now. He would not give up.

"I won't give up," Percy told himself. "I promise I won't. Annabeth, I promise."

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If you liked this chapter, please vote and comment! X
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Dedicated to Genevieve151

Btw, in case you'd forgotten, this story is split into TWO. Same book. Same storyline. Just two parts and you'll see why soon. Not sure how many chapters I have left in Part one. Maybe ten? That could change though.

I'm not sure if I'll be able to get an update out before next week, so if not— Merry Christmas!

goodbye for now my friends,

Xx
Steph