One choice.

Sometimes that's all it took. It could have been a series of expeditious decisions that all led up to where you are now but it could also be that one thunderous moment that stood out over all the rest. Though it takes time to achieve the dreams of the ones before us there has to be a moment, a decision, a person that made you try harder, open up a metaphorical door. She wasn't what sure what her choice, decision was but she knew the person that had made the most impact on her life.

Through the wars, the constant death and living nightmares she had made so many choices, so many decisions. It was something that she never wanted to hold upon her shoulders, she didn't  want to handle the responsibility of all the lives lost, all of those demigods who didn't make it back to their sisters and brothers. She did though, she made all of those choices, she quested on through a war and journeyed through hell. She didn't feel compelled to chose all her paths, all she wanted was to be done with all the sorrow, the heartbreak. There wasn't one moment in her life that changed it forever, it wasn't her choice at all.

It's said that you are free to make any choices you want, but you are not free from the consequences of the choice.

She understood that more than most, every choice has a consequence, every consequence eventually led to pain. She had definitely the pain of her choices. She couldn't recall any decisions in her life that didn't have a major impact on her existence. Sure there were small choices that didn't have an impact at all but then there was the different corners to turn down, the people that she accepted into her thoughts, the hard choice of a leader. And she felt the weight of all the consequences more than most, she wasn't by any means inadept in process of making hard split second decisions, but every person that died because of a choice she made hit hard onto her conscience.

It's not like she could simply forget her decisions, her mistakes, death, it's not that simple. She could push the weight of her exhausted form for someone else to bear for a moment, but no one was here now. He would always help her bear the sky, his smile would lessen the blow, but....his smile was gone. Her thoughts drifted to Bruce, which was complicated at best. She couldn't let him bear her weight, she saw the pain in his eyes, even if it was hidden behind a mask of no emotion, it was there. He was all ready pretending to be headstrong in face of his own ominous demons.

Once again, she was unable to make a choice. She could have laughed, it seemed that she could never make a decision when it really counted. Everything used to be so clear, so black and white, good and evil, in her mind she was able to figure out what everything meant. She still could, analyze movement, come up with the most conservative move, but it's like she lost her will to scream it to the world. She didn't want to try anymore.

She was so tired of trying and making choices it was as if she didn't have any energy to will her legs into motion and get up out of bed. Honestly, this had never happened before. She would always get up before 8 unless she was extremely injured or was on a quest. Now, she found her self laying down in the bed of her brothers guest room staring at the ceiling at 11am. The warmth of the white comforter engulfed her in a hazy indistinguishable feeling. To be honest she couldn't identify it. It clouded over her in a sense of calm but all she wanted to get rude of it, it felt strange, alien. Her arms didn't move to her commands and even though her thoughts ran ramped her head was locked onto the pillow staring up at the white ceiling.

It was unnerving, she had never felt the urge to let sleep engulf her so ferociously. Everything was so warn and her body betrayed her, her form unmoving despite her mind screaming at her to get up. She didn't budge an inch but she couldn't find the need to become frustrated, her mind running wild but still engulfed into a hazy cloud. She had never felt the amount of sleep full exhaustion and the paradox was intriguing yet she still couldn't find the will the wrap her head around it.

The urge to live was slowly seeping out of her bones and on some level it scared her. Even though she was lying down surrounded in piles of warm fabric, her ADHD in active, she couldn't think. To say that she was actively trying to move now would be a lie, all the tension fleeted her mind to block out the real events around her. Maybe in this cocoon of blankets she could forget the life that had betrayed her ideals.

A sudden tune of chimes pulled her slowly out of her motionless state, groggily turning her head to the phone on the nightstand. Each ring sent tendrils of pain into her skull like  an empusa jamming their sword into her brain. She stare at the device with half lidded eyes internally groaning from the amount of movement that would have to occur in order for her to answer it.

This was to new, the feeling in her bones that resembled some form of exhaustion. She felt like if she moved her arm to answer the phone her whole existence would perish. She let out an annoyed huff and reached of for the small metal object with warm fingers. Clearing her voice and pushing down any signs of sleep from her form she swiped the phone's screen to answer. She refigured her form into a sitting position making the bed dip down with her wait and the blanket pull down into her abdomen.

"This is Mrs. Chase how can I help you?" Her voice pierced the silence with a slightly vexed, firm tone.

"Ms Chase, this is your assistant Jade, the Acropolis board of directors needs an update on your current use of activity." She mentally sighed and almost threw the cursed object across the room. Did they have to interrupt her brooding session?

"Yes Ms. Nguyen‎, I have taken a leave of absence in light of certain events, have Jeremy Seligman run the board while I am away. Send all finishing projects to me via email for review." Was the smooth emotionless response.

"I will set things up...and I heard about Mr. Jackson, I hope you are well." She swallowed the lump in her throat closing her eyes tight, he was the last thing she wanted to think about.

"....I am, I will be back, I just need some time." Her voice was bound up tight, closed off to show no emotion. The topic was not one she wanted to focus her attention. She hung up on the girl and her shoulders sagged with a form of emotion that was most represented by the word 'done'. The action was not meant to be rude, and she hope that her assistant would understand that, but she didn't have it in her to initiate a conversation lasting more than a minute.

Taking a deep breath she finally had the initiative to swing her legs over the side of the bed. The receding warmth of the comforter lingered on her legs like a coating of fog and all she wanted to do was pull the oversized blanket over her head and never face the world again. She imagined that the kitchen was a good enough destination for today, she didn't have to enact a discussion of dead fiancés with the microwave.

Her feet hit the ground softly and she slowly stood up to her full height stretching out her unused muscles. She would have to make a trip to the gym before she lost her skill. She breathed in a deep breath and began trying to walk casually to the door. It was such a miniscule action, walking, yet it felt as rewarding as if she out weaved arcane. She failed at walking with the confidence she usually held, each step was a bit hesitant, but it was walking none the less.

She braced her weight on the door, all the cells in her body screaming at her to open it but her mind fighting her movements and pulling her back to the retreating warmth. She bit her lip hard and twisted the bronze knob, pushing all the voices into the back of her mind. The door opened slowly with a long drawn out creak and her head peaked out like a bird, her eyes darting between the two ends of the hallway with nervousness. The rest of her form followed moments later, disregarding the unease of being lacking a confidence. It felt so strange to have this sort of anxiety in only slightly social settings. Conversing with her brother the night before was the most she had talked in a week.

For once she understood the life of an introvert, finding it hard to contribute in social interactions, she almost groaned at the thought of talking to someone. Don't get the words out of line, she had never been such a social small talk person. she wouldn't dream of pulling aside someone like Drew and discussing fashion ideals, in fact she found it slightly repulsive. Getting her ideas out there, talking to people face to face to make sure they understood the directions, taking a stand on a topic, she would gladly show the confidence in her voice for those things. She couldn't even find her voice now. 

She was till dressed in the night T-shirt and over large sweatpants that had the drawstring pulled tight, from which she had borrowed from her brother, on as she walked down the furnished hall. Her footsteps echoed lightly against the white tile floor and her hand griped her arm with a mission to be as diminutive as possible, navigating the maze like hallways to the best of her ability. She should have no trouble making it downstairs to the kitchen, it should have been simple. She was titled the wanderer of the labyrinth, daughter of Athena, a so called genius architect  but here she was, not even able to navigate her way through a neoclassical styled manor without getting turned around and running around lost like a distressed adolescent.   

Finally, her head poked into a room with a white trimmed door in which the smell of tea wafted out, she almost grinned. Breathing the familiar scent in with content, she entered the quite large kitchen with a form of shyness. With inspecting eyes she breathed in the architecture and design of the room like it was a new toy, all shiny and young, ready to be used. There was a kettle of tea on an electric stove with steam jetting out the top like a stream of clear smoke, making the rooms humidity rise to level where she almost felt warm, relaxed. The rest of her body followed in content and she just stood in the middle of the room no really knowing what to do with herself. 

She really had nothing to do, no goals other to run away from her problems, no thoughts other than to not let her thought focus on someone she was always thinking about. She had a firm to run, but if she could barely walk to the kitchen without getting some sort of social anxiety how was she going boss around and entire company? She wasn't ready, or willing to face the real world yet , but she did have a suitcase full of clothes, a laptop, a wad of cash, and a showing of introverted tendencies. Fun. 

"Would you like a cup of tea Lady Annabeth?" She nearly jumped out of her bones, so lost in thought that she hadn't seen the elderly man enter the doorway behind her. 

"U-Uh yes, thank you Mr. Pennyworth." She tucked her finger into her sides, trying to keep her shaking hands from showing to the no doubt intelligent man. He nodded with calculating eyes and gracefully strode past her to the now whistling pot, taking out a china cup out of the cabinet. 

"Did you sleep well?" She asked, her face full of fake enthusiasm that was all to easy to see though. After a few more moments of struggling with forming a real smile, she gave up and looked back to the butler trying for any other emotion than the one she was feeling. The man just gave her a pitying smile and she knew that she wouldn't be able to hide anything from him.

"I did Lady Annabeth, and you?" She shrugged and tried to act casual but failed miserably. Her shoulders were tensed like she was expecting someone to hit her and she was sure that her eyes took on more of a 'scared deer in headlights' look more than the social confidence she had been practicing.

"As about as good as it's going to get sir." She responded trying to leach away all the emotion from her tone. He just nodded and handed her the warm cup, heat emanating off the top and warming her nostrils allowing her to relax even further. They fell into silence, the blond haired girl not feeling like initiating a useless conversation and the man silently respecting that fact.

Soon the cup became empty and she stared down into the ceramic glass like it betrayed her. With a grin frown she washed the glass and placed on a metal drying rack next to the sink. For some reason Alfred smiled at her like she had just saved his metaphorical child. She just kind of stood there awkwardly leaning against the kitchen table, taping her foot restlessly under the gaze. So much for confident social interaction.

After a few more minutes of the man smiling at her warmly from across the kitchen and her avoiding his gaze at all costs, she pushed her self of from the table and offer the man a wave as she walked out the door. To be honest she exited the manor folding in on herself as small as she could get and popped open the trunk of her car that was still stationary in front of the manor from the night before.

If you were to really think about it, it was all her fault, that night. Before the incident they had just rented that apartment in Manhattan to be closer to the firms location. Her firm, it was her dream, her fault. All her fiance wanted to do was graduated collage in New Rome, settle down together in the only safe city, live in peace. But she disturbed that dream with her own, shot down by her own ambitions and desires that fleeted any existence of the peace they could have know. The Firm. It was her choice and she dragged him along on her own prideful tirade not even caring if the heartwarming smile became more pain with the thought of how they could have been relaxing in the shops of new rome instead of fighting for the chance to grow a new corporation.  

Her conscious became more and more burdened with each thought of how every action that she had influence put him in that house. Every road  she dragged him down placed him right behind the barrel of a pitch black glock. The more sh thought about it the more she realized that she was his life, she was his death, she was his killer. She might not have been the one to pull the trigger but her hands metaphorically  pushed him behind the speeding bullet in recognition of her own life. She was selfish, add that to the list of flaws hidden behind  a mask of the 'genus girl who could do no wrong'.

Her gaze turned the the contents inside of the trunk, her belongings. After the incident she had gotten out of that house as soon as possible, as she removed her stuff her eyes had avoided the colossal crimson stain in the white carpet. It was an ongoing investigation, but the police didnt find anything as the room where it happened was taped off and she was forced out of the place where she had made a home. Now the contents of her old home were placed inside the small trunk like the things they were, stuff. She had buried the albums of photos in the bottom of her suitcase not able to look at his face an she had left all of his stuff in the place where he died so not much was there, but she couldn't find herself caring about materialistic items. She had let her mind drift when all she wanted to do was to get cloths to where so she didn't present herself like a teenager not wanting to get up for school.    

Slamming her thoughts out of their spiraling  cataclysmic storm, she tore through the zipper and grabbed a black T-shirt with white skinny jeans. Next to it was a pair of black slacks and a grey dress shirt but her mind immediately shut down the idea of dressing like a business woman in a casual setting.

She shuffled back into the manor with the cloths in hand a bit awkwardly. Well you could say awkward but really it was just unfamiliar. The walls were like a castle around her, tearing away any form of calmness that was known as she entered her own home. She looked down the halls to each side and attempted to remember where her room was placed but ultimately failed in the try. Instead of wondering randomly around the manor for a considerable amount of time she walked down the right hallway to the room that occupied the kitchen.

As she pushed open the door and froze where she stood.

There was another man.

He looked like he was in his early 20's, well muscled and lithe. Black messy hair framed his face and his slightly tanned skin contrasted easily  against.  He was just there, casually leaning against the counter in jeans and a white button up. He too had taken up the toll of drinking the elderly man's miracle tea, enacted in conversation with him. From the way he stood she analysed that he was still tensed and ready for action even though seeming casual, his left leg bent in a way that would call for maximum movement. He was trained well she could tell that much.

The door squeaked slightly as she peered into the kitchen and both males spun their heads to her direction. She observed that the man tensed even further making lithe muscles move under a layer of skin but he was still staying in a seemingly relaxed position against the counter. Intelligent eyes analysed her form  as well, raking across her body quickly. If she was a normal person she would have missed all of this completely. 

Unfreezing herself, she moved her attention the Alfred who was staring at her somewhat expectantly. His expression seemed to be somewhat bemused and and her eyes flicked back to the young man who was still in the same position.

"Can you tell me where the restroom is sir?" She asked somewhat shyly and he smiled. He was about to respond when the man butted in.

"I thought Bruce and I had an agreement about bringing his flings to the manor." His tone bleed vexation and she just stared at him for a moment before narrowing her eyes.

 He did not just-  

He couldn't have meant-  

Oh that intergluteal cleft in between the sacrum and the perineum.

 "ΛΕΧΡΙΟΣ ΚΥΝΤΕΡΟΣ ΑΝΑΣΕΙΣΙΦΑΛΛΟΣ! βάλλ' εἰς κόρακας!"(You slimey good for nothing dick! Throw yourself to the crows!) She yelled slipping into ancient greek. "Di immortales! Δεν είμαι πόρνη!" (The immortals! I'm not a whore!)! Alfred glared at the man to her great approval.  

"Master Richard, this is lady Annabeth. A guest at this manor for the time being, do not refer to her in that manner." Alfred scolded the man and he held his hands up in surrender. She put her hands on hips and scowled at the man. So much for being socially unconfident, he had just basically called her the plaything of her brother. She just glared at him for a moment, eyebrows raised and lips pursed. The man, Richard, just fidgeted awkwardly under her gaze. 

"Master Richard I do believe she is awaiting an apology" Alfred cut in and he took on sheepish features and stuttered an 'oh right' before holding out a hand to shake. She stared at it for a moment before reaching out and shaking it, eyebrows still raised and waiting for an apology.

"I'm sorry about referring to you like that-" He began his tone ot at all the apologetic. 

"I mean it's not up to me how you spend your life-" He was digging his own grave now.

 "I mean i'm sure you and Bruce have a very auspicious relationship, it's not nice of me to refer to you as a fling-" She felt her eyebrows raise, this was really not helping.

 "You should really stop talking Richard" She stated calmly, a light smile gracing her features, she didn't get many chances to mess with people. "I would say Bruce's and my relationship is very auspicious."

"Mhm yes that's probably true." Richard struggled out with pained features.

"Though it may be considered incestual we love each other very much-"

"Yes, i'm sure you do- wait what!" She struggled to contain a laugh at the man's expression, it felt appealing to release a lighthearted sound after so long not even talking to people. A smile graced her features in a full out grin, she was never one for tricks or games but she had to admit it was fun. 

"So you and Bruce are not a thing?" He stuttered out, his voice raising a couple of octaves. 

"No, Bruce and I are not a 'thing' as you so crudely describe it" She answered, holding a hand out to the man. " Annabeth Chase."  

"Dick Grayson" He shook her hand with a matching grin. "So what are you doing here exactly? if its not rude of me to ask." She bit her lip and thought of a response for a moment, how would she explain her sudden show up to the manor?

"um..well-"

"She has come rekindle her sibling relationship with Bruce after a brief intermission of separation." Alfred cut in and she shot him a grateful look.

"I've lived him for 10 years and he's never said anything about you...or any family members." He stated blank faced. Well he asked way too many questions for her liking. 

"It was a very long brief period." She answered through a now fake smile and slightly gritted teeth making it very clear that she was becoming vexed. "Anyway, the whole reason I entered the room." She turned to Alfred. "Wheres your restroom?"

She was somewhat reluctant to change out of the comfortable sleepwear, but ultimately decided she was an adult and just because her life was messed up almost beyond repair, it didnt mean that she should resort to becoming a languid bum. She peered at herself in the mirror, more refreshed after taking a quick shower. Her hair was no longer as matted and laid in strands against her chest, her skin no longer oily. She just felt...clean.

She ran her hands through her damp hair just trying to relish the feeling of of her hands on her scalp, warding away the tension in her shoulders. She never found much need to focus on her appearance, it was for other people that so many stressed over there physical attributes so severely. She just had never found the need to become what everyone else wanted, to be better than she could imagine, not opinions she could hardly ever care for. In conclusion I she didn't care about her reflexion, never had. So why had she rubbed her hands over the blemishes and scars along her arms and torso?

Scars were a part of being a demigod, you didn't get by without a scratch to remember it forever. Every demigod had there collection, there very own story, she had more than most. Closing her eyes she blocked out those scars, she didn't want to think about the story they told, the decisions she had made, the mistakes.....

She pulled on her black T-shirt and white pants, glancing at her reflection in the piece of metal one more time before tying up her hair and exiting. The night before her brain wouldn't stop striking out thoughts, about everything. One that had multiple recurrences was the question of why? Why had she made the choice to come here? She could have kept driving, ignoring the past, making a new future. But she came back to before everything happened, no wars, no death, where she wanted to be was in the past. She wanted to stay there forever.

She couldn't though, she knew that eventually the present would come rushing to her, ripping her out of her dream, tearing away her life once again. Like she had said, the fates had already written it all out for her. She just wanted it to be her choice.

Sometimes that's all she wanted.

A choice.