It is said that the bad things that happen in our lives put us directly on the path to the best things that will ever happen.

It's said that time doesn't heal anything, it just teaches us to live with the pain.

It's said that crying isn't a weakness, it's a sign of having tried too hard for too long.

Are these words wisdom? Are are these keen phrases just something that keep them distracted from actually thinking about their pain?

Some people say that grief is like and ocean, it comes in waves, ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.

She used to take these words of periodical wisdom to heart. These sayings and quotes are what she would use to define what she was feeling, to know that other people knew what she was going through.

It is said that the problem is not finding someone who listens, it's finding someone who understands.

All the cuts were fresh, they hadn't  stopped bleeding. Her wounds stung but it felt more like everything was numb. She still felt the pain, but everything had shifted, it's like when she was in love everything was... warm. She would get that feeling in her chest every time they touched, a warmth blooming inside her as if she had drank a warm beverage after sitting outside in the cold. Now that he was gone, nothing made her feel it, everything seemed dull. Everything was cold.

In statistics, 7.347% of woman under 30 are widowed. The odds were in her favor, but then that's before you factor in being a demigod. 48.9325% of demigods who come to camp die before 30, 69.7% being males. Then you factor in how many demigods actually get married, which was 74.54%. 25.42257699% she still had 74.57742301% of a chance.

She used to love facts, statistics, they were always right. People lie and they can twist actions and feelings to their will, facts can't lie. Now she sees that facts can be twisted as well, they can't be as misleading as people. It was a fact that he was the best swordsman in 300 years. It was a fact that he had defeated hundreds of monsters, won 2 wars, fought in over 10 major battles and trained for over 10 years. The facts are that even if he had a higher chance of dying because he was a child of Poseidon, his skill canceled it out and then some.

The facts were that he had 3.65% chance of dying in the home invasion. It was so ironic it almost made her break out laughing hysterically. After fighting in 2 wars and battling hundreds of monsters, he died from some crook with a gun.

It is said that with life comes danger and with danger comes a chance of ending it.

It's said that life is ironic. It takes sadness to know what happiness is, noise to appreciate the silence and someone's absence to value their presence.

She used to love facts, statistics, she still liked them, used them to find the truth, but now she knows that you should never rely on them.

It was a fact that she missed Bruce, she never let him out of her mind till.. he came along. She used to think about him every night, she remembered that when she couldn't sleep from the nightmares, he would tell her stories. He was her idol, he told her about what happened to his family and how he was going to track down the person who killed his parents and get his revenge. She told him about how her family didn't want her anymore and all she had left was Luke. She made a new brother that night. Not just because he was a child of Athena, it was because he cared.

Maybe he still cared.

Would he even remember her?

It's said that the people who told you that they would be there for you are the ones to walk away first.

Bruce never promised though, he never promised anything he never know if he could keep. Out of 2 years of being with him I only heard him promise one thing, that he would try. The only thing he ever promised is that he would try, try to keep his unspoken promises, for those who cared.

So now she's waiting, waiting at the beautiful arched white doors in front of her brothers manor. The cold edged at her skin but she didn't care, all she could think about was an unspoken promise. A promise to not forget about each other, a promise to see each other again. All she wished for was that he kept this one promise, this one unspoken promise.

After a moment of silence the white maple doors creaked open slowly, making the warmth from inside radiate to her form under the granite archway. She was soon bathed in a warm light that had a stark contrast to darkness, making everything thing it touched almost glow.

In the doorway stood an elderly man in a black suit and full white greased back hair. His posture was ridged and alert as if he was going to be attacked any moment, but his eyes held no fear, not much emotion except a tinge of curiosity. He took in her appearance as she took in his, him probably noticing her wild blond hair, red puffy eyes and tears stained sleeves.

"Can I help you miss?" The man asked in a polite british accent. His eyes were calculating, yet welcoming, they held a kind of intelligence and wisdom. She guessed based off the straightened back and level of intellect the man had he must have worked in an intelligence agency, most likely MI6 based off the accent.

She rapped her arms around herself nervously, her hands fiddling with the hem of her sleeves. This man must have been the butler that Bruce had told her about, but she had no way of knowing if he even lived here anymore, we'll not at the moment.

"Does Bruce Wayne still live here?" She questioned quietly, her voice hoarse from lack of speaking. The elderly man nodded and gave her a quizzical look.

She knew that this wasn't a good idea, her stomach twisted in nerves. She bit her lip nervously and closed her eyes trying to block out the quezey feel in the pit of her abdomen. She needed to do this, but she didn't know if she could take it if he didn't remember her.

It's said that being nervous isn't bad, it just means something really important is about to happen.

It's said that if you don't try you have no opportunity to succeed.

"M-maybe this isn't a good time..." She trailed off and trained her gaze to the floor. She should have rethought this, showing up out of the blue, at night, in the cold. She must have looked a little pathetic, she was falling apart. Is that what she was doing? Looking for someone to cushion her fall?

Was this why she wanted to see him, to find someone from her past so she could run from her pain? To find someone to help her, to carrier her through the pain? She was carried for so long, she could stand on her own. She was a child of Athena, she didn't need a support system, she didn't need anyone. Did she?

It's said that people who rely on others are wiser, they can admit that they need help.

She was falling.

Falling.

Would the brother that she once held catch her?

It's said that you don't heal alone, but only around those who are willing to treat your wounds.

"I'm -, " She was cut of as she began to apologize as the man shifted out of the doorway and gestured inside. "I haven't even seen him in fifteen years," she mumbled.

"Perhaps you should come inside, it is cold out." She shot him a grateful look and she hesitantly stepped into the manor.

She swirled her head around as she walked shyly into the lobby. Warmth bloomed into her bones, melting off her cold unease.

Just the lobby of the manor was a work of architectural genius. Identical pillars stood bold in the corners of the room with hallways leading off to the side. The ceiling and floor had matching mosaics, lines of gold painted angles patterned along the walls. The intricate design and accommodating color sequence of the room made her eyes go wide.

He began to glide down a the hall to the left and she had no choice but but to follow behind, still hunched in on herself. The walls of the hallway were lined with warm incandescent lighting and oak chairs to accommodate a maple interior. The man reached the end of the hallway, which was very long, and turned left. He led her into a room lined with two large oak doors, which had been polished so that it shined, and everything that had been crushing down on her was gone as she observed it's beauty.

At the end of the room a fireplace wall carved into the wall and surrounded by beautiful stone work. Brown leather couches surrounded it in a circle and they were completed with a blanket over the end and multiple throw pillows. The room was lined with beautiful mahogany, carved in repeating patterns and the walls held all sorts of paintings, vases and artwork. There was only one large window, but it was covered in white curtains, the only light came from the lite fireplace.

"Wow..." That's it the world is ending, she was rendered speechless, only architecture can do this. She turned around and the elderly man had an amused expression plastered onto his face.

"Master Bruce will be home from work shortly, please wait here." The man left with out another word and she stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.

To say she was nervous was an understatement, she was shaking, from excitement... and fear.

What if he didn't remember her? I mean they were only together two years. What if he lost his memories? What would she do then?

She ran shaky fingers through her hair, her curly blond hair falling in strands into her face. What if it was something worse?

What if he didn't want to see her?....

That could possibly be her worse fear, she hadn't seen him in fifteen years, what if he didn't love her anymore?

It's said that if you never go after what you want, you'll never have it. If you never ask, the answers always no. And if you don't take a step forward, you'll be in the same place.

She squeezed her hands into fists trying to stop them shaking, taking deep breaths to calm her heart rate. She wouldn't let her life be runned by what if's. She wanted, no needed to do this, to see her brother, she needed something to hold onto.

She watched silently as the man came back into the room and few minutes later with two cups of tea, the steam wafting off the top. The man offered her a cup with a smile and she shyly took it.

"Thank you sir." She looked back down to her feet after taking a drink, not knowing what to say. She wasn't ever really a talker, being together so long with...him so long, they just knew what each other was thinking. They could communicate through looks, she only really only talked to people when she had to explain things, which now looking back on her life, was alot.

"Missy if you don't mind me asking," the man asked interrupting her thoughts. "How do you know Master Bruce?" Oh crap... how was she supposed to to explain their relationship.

"He was like a brother to me when I was seven, I had just ran away from home and was living on the streets." She sighed sighed and rubbed her eyes tiredly. Not the hole truth, but close enough. "He helped me when I was in a low place and basically took care of me for two years."

"When you were at the door you said that you hadn't seen him in fifteen years," he inquired and she turned her eyes back to the floor.

"When he was 18 he said he wouldn't have time to visit me anymore." She turned her gaze back to the man trying her hardest not to tear up. "He gave me his address and told me that maybe I could see him again when I was older."

"Why haven't you come sooner?" She just shrugged with contrite and her gaze filled with guilt.

"I should have, the only reason I remembered was because I was taking a drive and somehow landed in Gotham." She wrapped her arms around her form and finished off the cup of tea in one sip, wishing things, just once, could go her way.

"Alfred," the man suddenly declared  stretching out his hand for her to shake. For the first time in maybe a month since... his death, she gave the man, Alfred, a real smile. It was soft and a bit strained, but it reached her eyes, it gave her hope that maybe she could heal. She reached out and shook it.

"Annabeth, Annabeth Chase."

From every wound there is a scar.

Every scar has a story.

A story that says "I have survived"

Turn your wounds into wisdom.

Wisdom.