This one is deep from the bowels of my USB key archives. Also it was publishe on Fanpop. Don't worry, I polished it up before putting it up. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Annabeth Chase or Percy Jackson and the premise created by Rick Riordan in The Lost Hero.

The Fighter

Woods' eyes drifted from student to student. Some were still leaning over their desks finishing the test. Others were playing rock-paper-scissors and in the corner notes were passing from one cheerleader to another. The class was completely quiet, but everyone was doing something.

All but Annabeth Chase.

She was studying a map, adding dots and erasing them, but she didn't seem as focused as she usually was when a map was in her hands. She was redrawing and erasing the same thing over and over again. Her blond curls were brought in a hasty side-ponytail and her grey eyes were dull. Unlike Annabeth Chasse. Very unlike Annabeth Chase. Working at a boarding school meant that Wood knew his students pretty well- particularly eleventh graders. Even if Annabeth was a recent transfer, he knew that that girl was nor mournful, nor quiet, nor dull, and definitely not the type to think of nothing.

The bell rang. As if this meant the seats would burst into flames everybody sat up, collected their things and charged for the door.

"Annabeth may I talk to you?" Wood asked. Annabeth nodded and walked up to her desk.

"What's wrong?" Woods asked. The usual confused look passed through her eyes and Woods hated it. Half the teachers out there didn't give a damn; even among her colleagues. Half the teachers these kids'd have were monsters so when he asked a question like that, the look passed through their eyes.

"What? I don't…"

"You look upset. You were never like this before Christmas. You were actually really happy before the holidays. But for the past week you've seemed just plain depressed. Is that it Annabeth?"

"No, nothing like that, sir," she said quietly. Annabeth Chase did not speak quietly. She spoke confidently. That was something else that was off.

"Then what? You're not like yourself. Are you homesick? Or is it..?"

"It's my boyfriend," she spat as her resistance snapped. She looked like she hated herself for saying it.

Wood relaxed. Romantic trouble, that was it. Like all the 16 year olds of the whole school. Still, for some reason he'd never have guessed that in all her work and studies Annabeth would have time to squeeze a boyfriend into her schedule.

"I see."

"No, you don't. It isn't what you think. We're not... we're not breaking up or cheating on each other or anything. He's missing. It's been a month today."

She was obviously biting back tears now.

"A month. No phone calls, no emails, no notes, no nothing. We don't know where he is exactly. I don't understand why he was taken out of all people..." Annabeth said. She launched herself into a story about waking up and going to find him at this camp that they attended, finding his cabin empty. Horses in the stables, vehicles all accounted for, no sign of a struggle but the cabin too clean to be his doing. The searching, the police, the worried parents, the stress, some more searching, trying to contact him herself, taking out all the bells and whistles to find him...

"That's terrible. I'm sorry, Annabeth... What was his name?" He asked. Positive thinking would improve the situation, right?

Annabeth slipped a picture out of her pocket and put it on the desk like a professional card player puts down his cards.

Five kids were standing on the beach, next to a shed. Annabeth was clearly recognisable as one, wearing shorts and a bikini top. She had her arm around a boy with a mop of black hair and sea green eyes. The photographer had caught Annabeth mid-laugh at a joke Wood would never hear. The other girl was a redhead with freckles on her face and paint splotches everywhere. Another boy with curly brown hair was standing behind her, she couldn't see his legs but he had a goatee and looked strong. The last boy was standing in the shadows. He was dressed entirely in black, his shirt read "I'm on a highway to hell: literally" and his hair was the same color. He looked at the back, at all the names written in careful penmanship. Percy Jackson was the name.

"That's him?" Woods asked a little uselessly.

"Green eyes, cute smile," Annabeth nodded. Woods slid the picture back towards Annabeth who just stared down at it.

"It'll work out Annabeth. They'll find him. This stuff happens all the time."

"He didn't run away," Annabeth said. There was a bit of a hiss to her voice.

"Do you want to talk?"

She shook her head.

"Wouldn't understand," she mumbled.

"Maybe not. Try to remember the good times. The sun looked bright in that picture. You looked happy. You had a lot of friends there..."

Annabeth's look got even more distant. For all Wood knew, she could be thinking of the queen of England, support beams and her boyfriend all at the same time.

A little smile crept on her lips. A funny memory, one she treasured.

"Thanks Mr Woods."

"Anytime, Miss Chase."

Annabeth walked away, still looking worn-down and sad. Wood pitied her. Annabeth was a hard-worker by experience and profession. That was how she'd gotten into school this late in her education, that was how she got her learning disorders to screw themselves, that was how she excelled everywhere. She wanted one thing but this once, she couldn't fight for it. She couldn't fight to get it.

Wood sighed. There was nothing he could do about it. For all the 'ra ra, teachers are the first in line to help students' that he got drilled with in monthly conferences, it wasn't always true. And it sucked. He brought her coffee mug to her lips but it was empty.

Woods got up and walked out in the corridor.

Annabeth was walking towards her locker and was ambushed by two football players clad in red and white jackets. Marc Meyer and Thomas Stimson- they were in his second AP class.

"Hey Chase."

"Get out of my way."

"We're in a good mood today."

"Get out of my way," she repeated.

"Got any plans for tomorrow?"

"Out."

"Aw, c'mon. Do you?"

"No, and none that I will make will involve you, "she said. The second guy laughed.

"I wouldn't laugh Stimson, same goes for you," she said. She pushed between them and walked on. He grabbed her shoulder.

"Awe come on sweetheart, could be fun," he said putting and arm around her shoulder.

The reaction was fast. So fast, he probably didn't even process it. She grabbed his arm, pulled it back painfully and kicked his legs out from underneath him. He flopped face-first on the floor and Annabeth knelt over him, keeping his arm at an uncomfortable angle.

"Next time you touch me Mack Grey, I swear it will hurt a lot more," she said, a dangerous edge to her voice. "Do I make myself clear?"

She twisted his arm until he said yes.

"Now I want you to apologise to me."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I'm sorry for grabbing you."

"No," Annabeth said twisting his arm even more. "You're sorry for being a mysoginistic douche that has an entitlement problem leading to unfounded beliefs that I owe you some kind of romantic escapade or favour." One more twist for good measure. "Aren't you?"

"Yes. Yes. Yes I am," the boy said through clenched teeth and bitten back whines.

Annabeth let him go. She picked up her binders and walked away, but turned and passed.

"And FYI, I'm taken. And my boyfriend could kick your ass any day," she said, before turning away and marching through the gazing crowd like a queen.

Even if there were about five reasons for him to give detentions to either of them, Wood smiled.

You could take the fighter out of the fight, but you couldn't take the fight out of the fighter.