Disclaimer: All PJO characters belong to Rick Riordan.

The Pit

No no no no no no no.

That was all that was going through Annabeth's mind as she ran. She could hear Luke running behind her, calling out to her, his voice cracking with desperation, but he never caught up to her. She was smaller and lither than him and for once, Annabeth was grateful.

She ran, her feet following the path that her heart guided her on. She ran until she could hear the sound of people, the sound of a yelling mob. She ran into the alley, close to bursting with people straining over each other to see the fight happening before them. She was about to dive into the crowd, when she felt his hand latch onto her wrist. A scream ripped out of her throat and she wretched her arm away.

"Annabeth," Luke pleaded, breathing hard. "Please. Let me explain."

His eyes were wide and strangely sad. Annabeth turned away from him and pushed into the crowd, slithering in between people with expertise. Thoughts ran through her head, memories of Luke's ragged breath on her face and feeling so helpless. It went deeper than that, though, as memories of her uncle played before her eyes. She remembered the way he was when he was drunk, lumbering throughout the house, yelling nonsense. She remembered holding in her screams when she became the target of his drunken rage. She remembered the glass bottle he threw at her, remembered the pain of glass shattering against her skin. She'd had bruises for days, causing whispers from her classmates. She remembered his raunchy breath on her face, how he used to press her against the wall just like Luke had, only to be spared by her jealous aunt.

Annabeth broke through the crowd and reached the front. Five feet in front of her, Percy stood, looking blessedly unharmed. The other guy, however, looked like he'd just been put through a meat grinder. His nose was crooked and swollen, trickles of blood coming out of it. Blood ran down his face, coming from his temple. He was breathing heavy, like every breath hurt. He was half a foot shorter than Percy but he seemed even smaller as Percy towered over him, his eyes narrowed, taking his time in delivering the final blow.

"Percy," Annabeth sobbed. "Percy." She kept repeating his name without even thinking, the sound bubbling up her throat and slipping out of her lips.

Percy stiffened. He slowly turned, the crowd surrounding them murmuring with confusion. His eyes flicked sharply to Annabeth's and then widened when it clicked that she was the one who had spoken. He stared at her, frozen, until Luke came into view behind her. His eyes narrowed. His face suddenly switched from the impassive expression he normally wore during these street fights to angry and bloodthirsty.

"Annabeth," Luke said, his breath raising the hairs on the back of her neck. "Annabeth, please."

He reached for her elbow. Annabeth jerked away, shaking her head violently. With every second that he was standing there, it was getting harder to breathe. She focused her attention on Percy and took deep breaths. She would not have a panic attack. She would not have a panic attack.

She was having a panic attack.

Growing up, panic attacks happened often. In the lunch room, at recess, in the middle of the night. It didn't matter where she was. If something triggered her memories, she would panic and stop breathing. The walls would close in around her, giving her severe claustrophobia, and her eyes would grow wide, staring into the air in front of her like she saw some horror that no one else did. And in a way, she kind of did. She saw her memories, and that was the worst horror of all.

She watched as Percy punched his opponent in the temple, sending him crumpling to the ground. The crowd screamed and cheered, but Percy looked like he was above it all as he walked toward Annabeth, eyes blazing with anger, and took her elbow, pulling her through the crowd with him. Annabeth didn't see Luke anymore and she didn't know where he had gone, but she was thankful that he wasn't near her anymore.

Panic clawed at her throat. She couldn't breathe . . .

Percy pulled her out of the crowd. He walked a couple more blocks before stopping and turning to face her. His eyes were still angry, but they were also laced with concern. Annabeth focused on his eyes. They were pretty. They reminded her of the ocean. She'd never been to the ocean, but she'd read about it and seen pictures. Percy's eyes made her feel like she was there, watching the lapping waves. It made her feel peaceful.

She hadn't realized she'd said all of that out loud until Percy chuckled bitterly. "Thanks," he said. He brought a hand up and brushed the hair out of her face. His fingers felt good on her skin. She decided to tell him that. He laughed a little before concern took over again. "Annabeth, what happened? What did he do to you? Why are you acting like this?"

And just like that, the panic was back. Luke, his hands on her body, his lips on her mouth, sucking all of the air out of her lungs. Her uncle, his beady eyes, his raunchy breath. Annabeth gasped, bringing a hand up to her mouth. Percy's face looked panicky, but he quickly covered it up, telling her that she was okay, that there was nothing to worry about, that she was safe and he would protect her. Annabeth let herself fall against him, let herself cry her tears into his neck. Her body shook and Percy's arms quickly came around her, squeezing her against him. He brought his lips to her ear, telling her things that Annabeth couldn't really hear over the roar in her mind.

She was safe she was safe she was safe she was safe she was safe.

Why was that so difficult to believe?

Annabeth felt Percy stiffen against her. She pulled away from him, wiping her eyes. It took her a minute to register the fact that Luke was standing five feet away from them, staring at her like she was some alien life form.

"Luke," Percy growled. He pushed Annabeth behind him.

Luke's eyes followed her. "Him?" he asked, incredulous. "You're choosing him over me?"

"What did you do to her, Luke?" Percy demanded. His voice was calm, like the ocean before a storm. Annabeth knew from his shaking body that he was about to erupt.

Luke ignored him. "I could give you everything, Annabeth," he said. "I could protect you, and you're choosing him?" His voice sounded desperate and heartbroken and something else that Annabeth couldn't quite identify.

Something like hatred.

"What did you do to her, Luke?" Percy demanded again, his voice growing louder. Luke turned his attention to Percy, his face melting into an anger that shook Annabeth to the bone. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," Percy threatened. "Do you see her? She's trembling. She's crying. She's talking. Luke, you terrified her. What did you do?"

"I kissed her," Luke sneered, not one ounce of regret in his voice. "I kissed her and you know what? I would do it again if I could."

Percy took a step forward. "Don't you dare touch her again," he threatened. His voice was calm but it shook with an intensity that froze Annabeth in place. "If you lay even a finger on her, I will make you pay. I will chop off every limb one by one until you're nothing but a scream echoing in the distance."

Percy's words shook with anger. Luke glared, his nostrils flaring, before reaching his hand up and punching Percy in the face.

Annabeth screamed. Percy reeled back, visibly stunned that Luke had hit him. Then he came back and with more force than Annabeth had ever seen, he hit Luke back. The two grappled, swinging their arms left and right, the sound of fists colliding with skin echoing in the air. Their eyes were alight with fire and anger and their faces were grim and it in the dim firelight, the scene was gruesome.

"No," Annabeth gasped. Her head was spinning. She felt like passing out. She took a hesitant step forward, but her legs shook. She felt like she was walking on air, skating twisting twirling gliding through a storm cloud and she had no control over what happened or where she ended up and oh Luke just punched Percy in the gut and he's not breathing and suddenly she isn't breathing because Percy's hurt and Luke's going to kill him and and and

"No," she repeated, her voice breathy and raspy. "No. Stop. Percy, please. Stop. I can't lose you. I can't lose you . . ." She trailed off, both boys staring at her. Percy's eyes were laced with guilt, but Luke just looked angry. He was steaming.

"You want him, Annabeth?" he asked in a low, deadly voice. "You want him?" He paused, staring at her with wide, hurt, betrayed eyes. Annabeth stared back, suddenly unable to breathe under his gaze. It made her body go cold. Luke shook his head angrily. "Fine. You can have him. But watch your back."

With that, he ran off.

"I'm sorry," Annabeth said. "I'm so sorry. I, I made him angry and he turned it on you and oh, this is all my fault. I should have just let him kiss me, I should have given him what he wanted, I shouldn't have been so forceful. You're not hurt are you? I think I have some extra bandages back at my place. I can go get them if you want . . ." She continued rambling, finding that now that she was talking after ten years of silence, it was hard to stop. The words felt strange in her mouth, like a foreign language. She supposed it was. For ten years, she'd been speaking in the language of touch and glances and facial expressions. Speaking actual words felt so different now.

Percy seemed to be ignoring her. He took her arm and gently led her through the Pit. Annabeth continued speaking, though she had no idea what she was even saying anymore. She let Percy lead her to his house. He opened the door and set her on his bed.

"This is really comfy," she said. "I like your bed. I like your house. It's a lot cozier than mine. Do you think I can stay here?"

Percy's lips turned up in a half smile. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Annabeth's forehead. "We'll see," he promised.

The curtain on the other side of the room opened, revealing an incredulous Grover. He stared at Annabeth, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. Annabeth didn't know what to do, so she brought up a hand and waved.

"Hi," she said.

Grover sputtered. He turned his stunned expression to Percy. "I thought she was mute?" he said, turning up the end of the sentence like a question.

Percy shook his head. His arm was around Annabeth and his fingers were dancing over her shoulder. It felt good.

"Long story." Percy's voice was back to its hard, angry tone. "I need you to go find Clarisse. Tell her that Annabeth is in trouble and that I need her."

Grover was still staring at Annabeth and honestly, Annabeth was getting a little uncomfortable. She fidgeted under his gaze. "But—"

"Go get Clarisse." Percy's voice and hard and cruel and authoritative. Grover visibly gulped and scurried out of the house. Once he was gone, Percy turned back to Annabeth and brushed the hair out of her face. Annabeth stared at him with a cocked head, thinking that he sure was going through a lot of trouble just for her.

"Annabeth." When Percy spoke now, his tone wasn't harsh and scary. It was soft and tender and loving. "Annabeth, it's important that you tell me what happened. Everything. Did he . . .?"

Annabeth knew what Percy was asking, but she didn't want to answer. Thinking about what he was asking brought up too many bad memories. Annabeth imagined the steel door that served as the gate to the Pit. She imagined it slamming closed, keeping out all of the bad, horrible memories she had stored up in her head. Instead of answering Percy's question, she said, "You're cute when you're worried. Your eyebrows get all scrunched together."

Percy's cheeks went red, but he managed to stay serious. He gripped Annabeth's hands. "Annabeth," he repeated, more urgently this time. "Listen to me. Listen. Are you listening?" He brought his hands away from hers and cupped her face instead. He peered down into her eyes, not saying another word until she nodded that yes, she was listening. Percy continued, "You have to tell me everything that happened. Did he . . . are you . . . did he rape you?"

And there it was. That word. That horrible, monstrous, beast of a word. Annabeth tensed under Percy's touch, her body rigid as that door she'd sealed shut in her mind burst open, all of her memories pouring out.

Annabeth was a virgin. Plain and simple. She'd never been raped, but she'd come pretty close to it a few times, tonight being one of those moments. The sensation of being trapped by someone's body was all too familiar to her and it opened a floodgate in her head, pouring out screams and cries and desperate pleas for her death. Annabeth closed her eyes tight, as if by doing so, she could turn herself off. But unfortunately, humans weren't machines that could just be turned on and off whenever. The color red flashed across Annabeth's eyelids, reminding her of blood and pain and tears. It swirled and twisted and danced a whole recital.

She remembered being thrown against the wall.

She remembered her screams, the only sound that she'd allowed herself to make.

She remembered being hit over and over until she was practically unconscious.

She remembered wondering if she deserved it.

"Annabeth," Percy said, his voice cutting into her thoughts. He was shaking her shoulders. "Annabeth. Stop. Stop. You're scaring me."

Luke. Her uncle. Her aunt. Her cousins.

"Annabeth, you're shaking."

Their faces kept getting mixed up in her mind.

"Annabeth, open your eyes."

She opened her eyes to find his concerned green ones. Tears began to build up, making her vision blurry. She was shaking, she realized. She was trembling. Percy had his arms wrapped around her and he was pulling her towards him until she fell against his chest, her head finding the crook where his neck met his shoulder. She stayed there, silently crying and messing with the material of Percy's shirt. And Percy held her and she should be okay but she wasn't okay because all of her childhood memories had been triggered.

The door burst open and Grover ran in with a very concerned Clarisse in tow. She was panting and staring at Annabeth like she was expecting her to be lying dead on the ground and it just wasn't registering that she wasn't.

"Clarisse," Annabeth said, pulling away from Percy. "Clarisse. Clarisse." Annabeth liked the way the name felt in her mouth.

Clarisse's jaw dropped. "Holy crap," she said. "She's talking. She's really talking."

Annabeth's face went red and she glanced back down, twisting the material of Percy's shirt in her hands. His shirt was dark blue and thin and felt super soft against Annabeth's skin. When he pulled away from her, Annabeth's hands reached out, grasping air, not wanting to let go of him just yet.

"I need you to figure out what's wrong with her," Percy was telling Clarisse.

Clarisse turned her baffled expression towards him. "Why do you think that I'm going to be able to help her?" she demanded. "I barely know her."

"You're her roommate," Percy pointed out, visibly frustrated. He ran a hand through his hair. "And you're a girl. You're naturally better at this stuff than I am. But she won't stop shaking and crying and babbling and I don't know what to do."

Clarisse looked just as frustrated as Percy was, and clearly uncomfortable with the idea. Annabeth brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them and watched the three people in front of her, completely detached. She felt like she was watching a movie. None of this felt real.

"You're her boyfriend!" Clarisse exclaimed. "If you can't help her, how can I?"

"Clarisse," Percy said, bowing his head to look in her eyes. "Please." He paused, biting his lip like he was unsure of what he was about to say. "Luke . . . hurt her," he explained solemnly. Clarisse's eyes widened. "He said that he kissed her, but I don't know exactly how far he went and Annabeth is panicking and I don't know what to do."

Clarisse stared at him and it seemed as though a silent understanding passed between them. Clarisse turned and walked towards Annabeth, stopping in front of her and crossing her arms. Annabeth looked up at her, her figure blurring through her tears.

She heard the door open and close. Annabeth's eyes jerked to the door, panic clawing up her throat when she realized that Percy had left.

"Percy," she gasped, hands shaking. "Percy."

Clarisse rolled her eyes. "He's just outside, Blondie," she explained. "Calm down. Gods above, you're acting like one of those giggly girls who can't stand to be away from their boyfriend for five minutes."

Annabeth sniffled and buried her face in her knees. Luke's face flashed before her eyes and she curled up into a tighter ball. Maybe the smaller she was, the more she could ignore her problems.

She felt weight settle onto the bed next to her. It was silent for a minute or two until Clarisse cleared her throat. "So, um," she began awkwardly, "Percy told me what's going on." She paused. "Are you alright?"

A laugh bubbled up and out of Annabeth's throat. She brought her head up and looked at her roommate. "No," she answered. "No, I'm not alright. I'm shaking and I'm scared and I don't want to be here and I don't want to remember."

Clarisse matched Annabeth's laugh with one of her own. "Well, at least you're honest." Annabeth sighed and settled against the wall, waiting for Clarisse to say more. She didn't for another five minutes and Annabeth was starting to think that maybe she'd been let off easy. Then, "I've lived here my entire life."

Annabeth turned to look at her. "I know."

Clarisse chuckled bitterly and continued. "I've lived here since I was born. Never left. I've walked past those prostitutes all chained up out there every day of my life. I've seen people murdered. I've seen people starve to death. I've heard the sound of a woman who just lost her child. I've heard the cry of a child who just lost their mother. I've felt the gaze of a man and I've definitely felt the gaze of a man who you don't want gazing at you." She paused and let out a long, hard breath. Twisted her hands. Brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Then she said, "I don't know what Luke did to you. I know he kissed you. I don't know if he did anything else. But even if he just touched you when you didn't want to be touched, I understand how terrifying that can be. I get it. But don't let him win. Put it behind you and move on."

Annabeth stared at her fingers. Clarisse's word were harsh, but her tone was gentle. Annabeth understood what Clarisse was saying, but it just seemed too bizarre to Annabeth. Her panic was about much more than unwanted advances from Luke. It dated back to years ago, when she was just a young orphan living with her only relatives. How could she get past a wound that cut so deep?

"He didn't rape me," Annabeth said. She felt Clarisse's stare, but decided to ignore it. She looked straight ahead as she spoke. "He kissed me and he touched me, but he didn't rape me. If he had, I probably would have cut off his privates."

For a minute, there was silence. Then Clarisse let out a bark of laughter. "You know, Blondie," she said, "I'm really glad you're talking now."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Percy and Grover came back in five minutes later. Annabeth was still sitting on Percy's bed, her knees curled to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. But she wasn't crying anymore and Annabeth thought that that was something that should be noted.

Her head felt clearer now. She'd stopped trembling and that rising panic that had bubbled in her chest and throat was mostly gone. It was crazy to think that Clarisse, of all people, had managed to calm her down, but Annabeth was thankful. She felt like her and her roommate had crossed a line and were heading in a direction that looked a little like friendship.

Percy was watching her. Annabeth looked up and met his eyes. Worry and apprehension swam in them, but Annabeth thought she also saw a little bit of relief. Relief that she was okay. Relief that she wasn't still a blubbering mess.

"Come on, Goat Boy," Clarisse said, grabbing Grover's hand and dragging him towards the door. "You're staying at my place for the night."

Grover looked confused, furrowing his eyebrows. "But—"

Clarisse cut him off with a pointed look. Grover looked between Percy and Annabeth and his eyes cleared in understanding. He nodded and let Clarisse drag him out of the house. Annabeth was grateful that he was staying somewhere else. She couldn't imagine being separated from Percy at a time like this and she didn't want Grover to feel awkward.

The door shut with a loud bang. Annabeth jumped a little bit, pulling her legs closer to her. She didn't dare look Percy in the eye. Though she was calmer, she was still slightly shaken up. She didn't want Percy to see just how terrified she still was.

She should say something. But when she tried, all of the words that had been flowing out of her minutes before had abandoned her, leaving her just as mute as before. She cleared her throat as best she could and said, "Percy, I—"

"Stop," Percy commanded. Annabeth snapped her mouth shut. Percy's voice was strained and Annabeth vaguely wondered if he was angry. But then he continued, saying, "Say it again. My name."

Annabeth looked up and met his eyes. His gaze was trained on hers, his expression filled with . . . something. Annabeth swallowed and said his name again. Her voice was raspy and barely audible, but Percy's lips turned up into the barest of smiles and he broke out of whatever spell he'd been under, taking three steps until he was kneeling in front of her. His hands came up to cup her face and he brought his forehead to hers.

"Annabeth," he replied before kissing her. It was slow and languid and sent a shiver all the way down to Annabeth's toes. She slipped off of the bed, falling to her knees in front of Percy. He collected her in his arms, smashing her against him like she was nothing more than a rag doll. Annabeth could hardly think. She whispered his name against his lips, finding that she enjoyed saying it as much as he enjoyed hearing it. To finally be able to say the name of the person who meant so much to her, who'd loved her for so many years, brought her so much happiness.

"I love hearing your voice," Percy said, speaking the words straight into her mouth. Annabeth smiled, her sight wavering dangerously with tears.

Eventually, they found it within themselves to separate long enough to catch their breath. They sat next to each other, leaning back against the bed. Annabeth stared down at her lap and focused on the feeling of Percy sitting beside her and not on the question she knew he was about to ask.

"What happened?"

Annabeth closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the bed. She could feel Percy's stare piercing into her like a hot iron rod. "He didn't rape me," Annabeth said, the same words she had said to Clarisse only minutes before. "He just . . . kissed me. And I freaked out." She paused, allowing herself to collect her thoughts and control her breathing. "It was like I was having an out-of-body experience. You know, one of those situations where you're there but you're not really there? It was like I was watching it, like it was a scene from a movie or something. Like it wasn't really happening to me. And then it sunk in that it was happening and all of this fear and emotion rose up in my throat and I, I panicked, I guess."

Annabeth opened her eyes and tilted her head until she could see Percy. He was watching her still, his beautiful green eyes focused in like she was the only thing in the world. Her hands were shaking before he even uttered the question, "What really happened, Annabeth?"

She bit her lip, tearing her gaze away from his. He wasn't asking about Luke. He wasn't asking what had happened that night. He was wondering about what had happened that made her the way she was. Why had she gone mute? What had happened to her that caused her to be the way that she was?

She didn't want to tell him, but she knew that she needed to. He deserved to know.

"My brother," she murmured, her voice strained with emotional pain. "My parents. They burned to death."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Checkmate," Malcolm said, a victorious smirk transforming his boyish face. "I win."

Annabeth stared at the chessboard, her child's brain gears whirring to make sense of her brother's move. "What . . ." she started, her lips curling up in disgust. "That's not fair. You cheated."

"How did I cheat?"

Now it was Annabeth's turn to smirk as she very calmly explained to her twin how you can't move a pawn backwards, even to make a kill. Malcolm's face scrunched up in frustration and he wiped all of the chess pieces off of the board, causing Annabeth to screech. She scrambled to collect them all before one was lost to No Man's Land, also known as the space beneath the couch. She let out a small breath of relief when she got all of the pieces together and began to organize them neatly in their box.

"How come you always beat me?" Malcolm asked. His voice was tinged with irritation, but Annabeth knew that it wasn't directed at her. Malcolm adored her.

"I guess I'm just smarter than you." Malcolm scoffed while Annabeth fell into a fit of giggles. However, Malcolm quickly got over himself and began to help her pick up their game, poking her with a knight as he did.

"So what do you want to do now?" Annabeth asked after they finished cleaning up their game. The two six-year-olds fell onto Malcolm's bed, staring up at the popcorn ceiling. Almost subconsciously, Annabeth's hands found Malcolm's and she slipped her small fingers through his. It was a habit she'd had for as long as she could remember. It had started as a way to calm Malcolm down, she supposed, when he was having one of his meltdowns, but had slowly evolved into a way for Annabeth to seek comfort. As long as she had her brother beside her, she felt like she could do anything and she knew that Malcolm felt the same.

Annabeth had overheard their parents talking about Malcolm's "condition". That's what they had called it. A "condition". It had a big fancy name that Annabeth could remember – obsessive-compulsive disorder – but couldn't pronounce, so she called it by their initials: OCD. That's what their parents called it too. This condition made Malcolm different and it explained the meltdowns. He was also really bossy, which Annabeth contributed to this condition as well. Her parents spoke of this "condition" like it was a bad thing, but it made Malcolm who he was and Annabeth liked her brother exactly how he was.

"We could play pretend," Malcolm suggested and Annabeth immediately perked up. She loved playing pretend. She loved pretending to be someone else, whether that was a princess or a slave girl. She loved the freedom it gave her, like she could do anything and be anything.

"Okay," she agreed. "What do you want to be? I want to be a princess."

Malcolm scrunched his eyebrows together, thinking. Finally, he said, "I want to be a knight."

Annabeth squealed with delight and jumped up off of the bed, dragging Malcolm with her. "You can be my knight in shining armor!" she cried as they ran into her bedroom, where her closet full of dress-up clothes were. Annabeth very rarely wore anything but her costumes, so instead of a closet full of shirts and pants, she had a closet full of princess dresses and fairy wings and plastic slippers. Malcolm even stuffed his own dress-up costumes in here, though Annabeth always complained that his superhero outfits looked out of place in all of the fanciness.

Annabeth grabbed her golden ball gown from off of a hanger and quickly changed into it. It was her favorite gown, probably because it was a copy of Belle's ball gown from Beauty and the Beast, Annabeth's favorite movie. She absolutely idolized Belle.

When Annabeth turned around, Malcolm was dressed in his Tin Man costume from The Wizard of Oz. That was always his go-to costume when he played a knight since they didn't have an actual suit of armor laying around.

Malcolm smiled at her and bowed low, already beginning to play. "My dear fair princess," he said in a fake, low voice. "My name is Sir Malcolm and I am here to rescue you from the evil clutches of the Galactic Raptor!" Annabeth giggled and squealed, running around Malcolm and out of the closet door as Malcolm suddenly morphed into the evil dinosaur that guarded Annabeth's "tower". She heard Malcolm's footsteps as he ran after her, still making disgusting sounds of an evil dinosaur and the randomly switching to being a valiant knight.

They played for what seemed like hours, running through the house and through the yard, yelling and giggling. Annabeth twirled around in her dress, feeling like a princess, and feeling so, so happy. She even made herself a flower crown outside when she and Malcolm paused for a small snack break.

And then everything went wrong. They were in Malcolm's room, Annabeth standing on top of his bed while Malcolm pantomimed fighting the Galactic Raptor, when she smelled it.

"What's that smell?" she asked Malcolm.

He paused his battle and sniffed the air. "It smells like . . . smoke." He locked eyes with her and then scrambled for the door, Annabeth following in hot pursuit. Her dad must be cooking. He always burned things when he cooked and it was funny to watch him get all red in the face.

But what Annabeth and Malcolm found in the kitchen was not a red-faced father, but flames. Lots and lots of flames.

A beeping sound filled the house.

Annabeth screamed.

Malcolm coughed.

The shock wore off quickly and Malcolm and Annabeth did what they had been taught to do in these situations. Both of them fell to their hands and knees and scrambled away from the kitchen, heading to the front door. Smoke was filling the house and Annabeth found it hard to breathe. She coughed and she wheezed and she thought she might be dying.

They found that the family room was quickly being overtaken by flames. When Annabeth saw that the path to the front door was blocked by a fiery wall of red and yellow, a sob escaped her throat. She jumped to her feet, ignoring everything that she's been taught to do in a fire, and ran down the hall to her parents' bedroom, coughing and waving her arm in front of her face to clear the smoke out. Malcolm ran after her, calling her name, his own voice raspy in the hot air. Annabeth ignored him, her little feet padding to the end of the hall. She flung open the door to find both of her parents in there. Her dad had an arm wrapped around her mom's waist and her mom . . . her mom . . .

Her mother was unconscious, a small trickle of blood running down her temple.

Her dad's eyes widened when he saw the twins. "Get out!" he yelled, his voice full of desperation and pain. "Get out of the house! Malcolm, get your sister and get out!"

"Daddy . . ." Annabeth whimpered, tears running down her face as she stared at her parents. Flames had made it into their room as well. Flames had made it into every part of their house. Their house was made of flames now. Annabeth felt like she was made of flames too.

Malcolm tugged on her arm and Annabeth stumbled after him, sobbing. He ran into his room, which was covered in flames that they could barely see anything. At least, Annabeth couldn't see anything. Malcolm seemed to be able to because he dragged Annabeth through the flame-ridden room and pushed her up onto his bed, unlatching the window like he had done it a million times. And he probably had, Annabeth thought somewhere in the back of her panicked mind. He always opened the window when having a meltdown.

The window swung open and before Annabeth knew it, she was being pushed through. She screamed, catching herself on the ledge before she could fall to the ground six feet below.

"You gotta jump, Annabeth," Malcolm pleaded, his small face beaded with sweat and tears. He kept trying to push her down but Annabeth held on.

"No," she refused. "I'm not leaving this house without you."

"I'll be right behind you," Malcolm promised. A strained sob broke through Annabeth's lips and his face softened. He put a small arm around Annabeth's shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug. "It's time the princess saves herself," he whispered in her ear. He pressed a kiss onto her cheek and with one final strong shove, he pushed Annabeth off of the ledge and to the ground six feet below, to safety. Annabeth landed on her arm and heard a sharp crack as searing pain ran through her body. Still, she pushed herself to her feet and ran a few feet away, giving Malcolm room to land when he jumped out.

He never did.

Annabeth screamed and choked and sobbed when she heard a loud explosion and the house fell to the flames, taking her family with it.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"The flames had hit the gas line to our stove," Annabeth explained, a few tears running down her cheeks. "I didn't find that out until later. The soldiers had told me what happened. My mom was cooking dinner and had left the stove on by accident. Later, my dad walked by and accidentally spilled a little bit of alcohol in it. The stove erupted into flames. My mom ran to their room to grab her phone and call the fire department, but tripped over something and hit her head. My dad just couldn't get us and her out in time. I was the only one who survived."

Percy's expression was carefully concealed, showing no signs of emotion, but he reached his hand over and interlocked their fingers. Annabeth was grateful for him.

"I went mute after that. I never meant to, but I was six years old and my entire family had just died. I didn't know how to deal with the pain, so I just bottled it all up and didn't speak. Then I moved in with my aunt and uncle and their four kids. I'd never met them before because of some falling out my aunt and my dad had when they were young. I was a little wary, but at first, it was fine. I was just a kid and I'd just lost my family. Who would hurt a child like that? But after about a year passed, they began to show their true colors. My cousins were awful. They hid tarantulas in my sheets and tore the pages out of my favorite books. One time, they even locked me in a closet for the entire day." Annabeth shuddered, remembering the darkness and her rumbling stomach and erupting bladder. "My aunt was no help, of course. Either she was really dense or really cruel, but she saw her children as perfect angels and me as a devil child. She was always going on and on about how she should have never taken me in because I was just a burden and a thorn in her side."

Percy muttered a foul word under his breath and even through her tears, Annabeth cracked a smile before continuing.

"My uncle was a drunk. I don't know how he was ever chosen for Elysium. In fact, I don't know how any of them were chosen for Elysium. They were all terrible. My uncle was the worst, though. He came home drunk practically every night. My aunt and he didn't get along very well and if I was still up, completing the endless list of chores my aunt had given me, I would become the target of his anger. He . . ." Annabeth's voice broke. "He threw empty beer bottles at me while I was scrubbing the floor. He'd use his fists on particularly bad nights. And when I got older, he'd give me these weird looks that would make my skin crawl and it took me forever to realize that the reason for those looks and the reason why my aunt always acted jealous of me was because he wanted me."

Annabeth stopped talking, letting everything she had just said sink in for Percy. He let out a slow breath, his body rigid beside hers. "Did he . . . ?" he asked.

Annabeth shook her head vigorously. "No," she said quickly. "No, nothing like that. But . . . almost. If my aunt didn't always stop him." She paused again. "I think that's why I freaked out so much tonight. I went back to that place and I panicked."

Percy shifted next to her, turning his body so that he was facing her. Annabeth turned to look at him and he reached out and brushed a tendril of hair behind her ear. The gesture was so tender and affectionate that Annabeth wanted to sob.

"I'm sorry that you had to go through that," Percy said. "And I swear by all the gods in the universe that if I ever come face to face with your aunt or uncle or any one of your cousins, I will kill them. Okay?"

Annabeth nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek against her will. She brought her hand up to wipe it away, but Percy's lips got there first. He kissed her tear away and this small action struck Annabeth as one of the tenderest things anyone had ever done for her.

"Percy," Annabeth said slowly. "May I ask you a question?"

"Anything."

Annabeth swallowed before asking, "What happened to Ryland?"

Percy stiffened at the mention of his dead brother's name. Annabeth sat patiently beside him, waiting for him to begin speaking. It took him a minute, but he eventually mustered up the courage to say, "Did you have the take the test?"

Annabeth was slightly taken aback by his question. The answer was no, she never had to take the test to see which place she belonged in. It was an aptitude test; they compared your results to your twin's and based their decision on those results. That was the real test: how you compare to your twin. Annabeth didn't have a twin when she turned sixteen, therefore, she had no one to compare her test results to.

Percy nodded at Annabeth's head shake. "I didn't think so," he said. "Well, the tests are cruel and torturous. On one part, they present you with a series of choices. Some of them are easy, like deciding between foods and ordinary items. But some of them are a lot harder, like trying to decide whether to spare someone's life or kill them. Another part is gaging your reactions to things. One specific test is putting you face-to-face with your biggest fear and seeing how you deal with it.

"Ryland was . . . he had anxiety. No one knew about it because he was on pills and stuff and he visited a therapist every week. He had it under control. But going through all of those tests, having to face your biggest fears – it triggered an anxiety attack. I tried to help him. Sometimes, he had these at home and my mom and I would have to talk to him to get him back to normal. I guess that's what I was going to do then: just talk to him, tell him he was okay, and get him back under control. But the soldiers caught me before I could get to him. So I did what I did best; I fought through all of those soldiers until I could get to my brother. But by the time I finally managed to get there, the man in charge of the entire operation, he – he –" Percy broke off, his voice wavering. Annabeth squeezed his hand, encouraging him to continue just the way he had encouraged her.

"He was holding a gun to Ryland's head. He said that this was the final part of the test and that I had to choose between Ryland and myself. Which one of us would die? So I surrendered myself. I threw up my hands and gave up my life. And that man smiled and shot Ryland in the head.

"I don't really remember what happened after that. It was like you described feeling tonight with Luke. I was there, but I wasn't really there. I was kicking and screaming and I vaguely remembered being dragged out, but all I could really think about was Ryland laying on the floor in a pool of his own blood."

He paused and Annabeth thought he was finished talking. She felt like she should say something, though she had no idea what to say. "Percy, I—"

"You make me feel good, Annabeth," Percy continued, his voice thick. "After Ryland's death, I spent two years in here, wishing that it had been me lying dead on that floor. I fought and fought and killed and thought about how I was the one who deserved to die. Ryland was going places. He was smart. He was friendly. I was the screw-up."

"You're not a screw-up," Annabeth said weakly. "It's not your fault. No one blames you. You couldn't have possibly known that the man was going to shoot your brother."

Percy's lips twitched with the ghost of a smile. "See? That's what I'm talking about. You always believe the best about people, even if they don't think that it's true." He paused, shaking his head. "I don't care what your aunt and uncle and cousins said about you. With you, Annabeth, I feel different. Like I could be someone worthy of living."

Annabeth smiled and Percy leaned forward, his lips meeting hers. His mouth was slow and languid as it moved against hers. This kiss was different from the rest. This was a kiss shared between two broken people who found a wholeness within each other.

Percy's lips moved from her mouth to her cheek. "You're beautiful," he whispered against her skin. Annabeth smiled, staying still as he placed his lips on her other cheek.

"You're gentle."

Her nose.

"You're stunning."

Her eyelids.

"You're strong."

Her forehead.

"You're mine."

And Annabeth fell

fell

fell

fell until there was nothing left to fall into. Percy kept kissing her, whispering those words over and over again, reminding her that despite her past, despite everyone and everything that she had lost, he was there and he would love her broken pieces.

"I love you," she whispered, freezing Percy in the act of kissing the skin behind her ear. He slowly drew away from her, his face irritatingly unreadable. She stared at him, her breath lodged in her throat, her hands trembling. But then his lips broke into a huge grin and he was tackling her to the ground and she couldn't breathe because he was kissing the breath right out of her. And as they lost themselves in laughter and stars and stolen kisses, Annabeth thought that maybe she might have found something permanent in Percy Jackson.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Annabeth's eyes flew open, a gasp escaping her mouth that was so loud, she was afraid she had awakened the entire street. Moonlight streamed in from the window above her bed, illuminating the room with an eerie glow. The wind blew through the Pit, moaning out a depressing ballad in the night. Annabeth ignored all of this, however, her brain whirring.

Amelia, the crippled lady in the street. Grover. Clarisse. Percy. Herself.

It all made sense now.

Annabeth jumped out of bed, shoving her boots onto her feet and running over to Clarisse's side of the room and shaking her awake. "Clarisse," Annabeth whisper-yelled. "Clarisse, wake up!"

Clarisse groaned, cracking an eye open and glaring at Annabeth. "Why are you waking me up at this God-forsaken hour? I thought you were a chill roommate."

Annabeth ignored her, pulling back the blankets from over Clarisse's body. "We have to go to Percy's. We have to tell them."

Clarisse slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Tell them what? What is going on?"

Annabeth slipped a sweater on over her tank top. "I know why we're here. Why all of us are here."

That caught Clarisse's attention. She didn't argue anymore while she threw on a jacket and some boots, following Annabeth out into the chilly desert night. They swiftly made their way to Percy and Grover's house, both looking around wildly for any soldier who might catch them. Technically, curfew was at one in the morning and though the guards were pretty relaxed here, letting the citizens do practically anything they wanted, Annabeth didn't want to risk getting caught. Not when she had such important information.

They safely made it to the house and Annabeth pounded on the door. After a minute, Percy answered, sleepy-eyed and shirtless. He focused on Annabeth and smiled at her. Annabeth would have blushed if she wasn't so focused on her new discovery. "Hey, Annabeth."

"I know why we're here," Annabeth said. "Let us in."

Percy's eyes widened and he moved out of the doorway, allowing Annabeth and Clarisse to enter. Clarisse went and sat on Grover's bed, who was sitting up, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "What's going on?" he asked.

"It's the Island of Misfit Toys," Annabeth blurted. The others all stared at her like she was speaking German. Annabeth curled her hands into fists and continued, explaining, "It's from that old Christmas movie, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. They sent all of the broken toys to this island since they couldn't send them to the kids for Christmas." She paused, waiting to see if they understood what she was saying. They still continued to stare at her blankly.

"Don't you get it?" she cried. "The government wants to create a perfect society, so they throw out all of the people who don't fit in, labeling them as 'evil', and keep all of the 'good' people. Grover, your legs are messed up. Clarisse, you have a temper. Percy, you're a rebel. And I was mute. None of us fit into a perfect society. So they threw us here."

She paused, letting everyone take in her words. Grover's mouth fell open. Clarisse stared wide-eyed at the floor. Percy sat on his bed, running a hand through his hair.

"So none of us are evil, then," Clarisse said, breaking the silence. "We're not inherently bad."

Annabeth shook her head in answer to Clarisse's statement, but her eyes were on Percy. "No. None of us are the monsters society labeled us as." Percy looked up and met her gaze, his face softening at her stare.

"So how does this change anything?" Grover asked, bringing Annabeth back to reality. "We may not be monsters, but we're still stuck here."

"That's the other thing," Annabeth said, her voice taking on a grim tone. "Luke. I think he's . . ." She trailed off, unsure of how to present this information. "I think he's going to kill everyone."

Silence.

Annabeth's hands shook as she explained that day at the Grand Canyon when she'd overheard Luke talking to some guy. "He'd told him that he just needed some more time," she explained. "A month or so. And then a few days later, Percy and I caught Luke and his men hiding boxes of weapons. It sounded like he was planning a genocide or something. But it got me thinking." She paused, allowing the other three to fully process her words before she dropped the rest of the information on them like a bomb.

"Have you ever wondered why the Pit isn't overcrowded? I mean, after a hundred years running, wouldn't it be a little bit full? Yet, it's not. I think it's because they kill everyone here in order to make room for the next batch of misfits. I think that the next genocide is coming up quick and Luke is in charge of it."

For a minute, no one said anything. All three of them stared at Annabeth like she had just dropped from the sky. Annabeth bit her lip nervously. Now that she'd heard it out loud, her sudden assumption seemed a bit, well, sudden. She didn't have a whole lot to back it up and the two instances that she did have weren't much to base something like this on. Yet, Annabeth just knew that she was right. She felt it deep within herself.

"Listen," she pleaded. "I know it sounds crazy, but you have to believe me." She looked over at Clarisse and Grover. "You believe me, don't you?"

Clarisse shrugged. "Look, I trust you, Blondie. But this is insane. And it seems like you're just jumping to conclusions. No offense."

Annabeth's stomach dropped. She looked over at Percy, her face silently pleading with him. He held her gaze and they had a silent conversation, Annabeth begging him to believe her. To side with her. He knew that she wouldn't tell everyone and make a big deal out of this unless she was absolutely positive of it. He had to believe her.

Percy sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "If it was anyone but you," he started, "I would say you're delusional. But . . ."

Annabeth smiled at him, causing his cheeks to go red. She turned back around to Clarisse, who was rolling her eyes. "Alright, Blondie," she said. "I guess I'm with you on this. Goat Boy is also."

Grover, who had been nervously biting his nails next to Clarisse, nodded his consent.

Annabeth smiled, overcome with affection for her friends. That smile quickly faded when Percy asked, "So, Luke is going to kill everyone. What are we going to do?"

"Kill him?" Clarisse asked hopefully.

"Oh, what did I get myself into?" Grover muttered, his voice shaking.

Annabeth shook her head. "No," she told Clarisse. She looked at Percy as she continued, "We're going to escape."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Everything was prepared. Annabeth had planned the perfect escape strategy, with Percy's help. Clarisse had helped her pack up anything useful from their room and stashed it over at the Grand Canyon, where they would make their final escape. According to Percy, Grover and he had done the same thing.

They would escape at night, when most people would be asleep. Grover and Clarisse would take one route while Percy and Annabeth would take the other. It was less conspicuous that way, Percy claimed. Four people walking together towards the canyon would be suspicious, but two people – especially a young boy and girl – would be easily ignored. When Annabeth and Percy had explained this to Grover, he'd gotten as red as a tomato and had nervously glanced over at Clarisse, who had wiggled her fingers at him in a mock flirtatious gesture. Seeing him so uncomfortable over something so superficial made Annabeth laugh.

"There're the guards again," Percy announced from his perch by the window. "One more round and then we go."

Annabeth tightened her jaw, staring intently at a spot across the room. She was vaguely aware of Percy coming over to sit next to her on the bed, but the action barely registered over the roaring sound of anxiety that was crashing around in her head. Her stomach felt like it was dragging along behind her body and her hands shook in her lap. Percy wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to his body.

"We can do this, right?" Annabeth whispered against his chest. Her fingers came up and played with the hem of his shirt. He pulled one of her hands away from his shirt and intertwined their fingers, his thumb rubbing gentle circles across the back of it.

"Yeah," he reassured her. His voice was so deep, it rumbled in his chest and the feeling of it soothed Annabeth. "We can do this."

There was a silence, awkward and heavy. Annabeth knew what they were both thinking. She'd been thinking about it a lot since they began planning their escape. It was such a simple question, yet it filled Annabeth with an ocean of anxiety.

Where would they go once they escaped?

Their group hadn't discussed it yet, too overwhelmed the problem of actually getting out of the Pit. But at night, when Annabeth laid in bed, thoughts would plague her of after. Where would she go after? She could disappear. This was hers and Percy's chance to really be together in a place where they didn't fear for their lives. They could run away, go someplace and build a life for themselves, outside of the government's control. They could be free to love each other and have a family and have children and teach them what is right and what is wrong and how to be good when it feels like the universe is trying to turn you into a monster.

The thought was so appealing, Annabeth had to catch her breath, her heart beating out of her chest.

And yet . . .

Luke was going to kill people. People were going to die. And Annabeth could stop it. She couldn't be selfish and go live out her own fairy tale when everyone else she was leaving behind were going to be brutally murdered. If they all died and she did nothing to stop it, then their deaths would be on her shoulders.

Percy hummed thoughtfully and, as if he knew what she was thinking, said, "It doesn't end once we escape, does it?"

Annabeth bit her lip and after a second, shook her head. "I can't just let them die," she replied, pulling away slightly to look at him. "There are innocent people here. I can't just leave them."

Percy nodded. "I know," he said. "So what do we do?"

Annabeth shook her head. She honestly had no idea. The government was obviously behind this whole issue, so they wouldn't be of any help. She didn't know of any rebellion that she could call for help. It was Annabeth and her friends against a corrupt system and if they failed, thousands of people would die.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I suppose we bring it to the people. We go to Elysium. Their family members might help." She paused, licking her lips. Percy's eyes flicked to them and before Annabeth could continue, he covered her mouth with his, kissing her.

Percy was the first to pull away, whispering against her mouth, "Don't worry about the future. Don't worry about getting the word out, don't worry about leading a revolution. Focus on escaping. Focus on surviving. Focus on right now and tomorrow will come when it does."

Annabeth smiled and brought her hands to his hair, kissing him again because he was right and if something went wrong, if somehow she didn't survive tonight, then she didn't want to have any regrets.

They kissed until they heard footsteps and hushed whispers outside. Percy untangled him from Annabeth and quietly went to the window, peeking out to see if the guards were out there. When he looked back at her, nodding his head grimly, Annabeth's stomach dropped.

It was go time.

They worked like a well-oiled machine, throwing on their shoes and stocking up on weapons. Percy grabbed a few daggers, a knife, and a gun, hiding all of it in his clothes. Annabeth hid a knife beneath her shirt and, at the last minute, stuck a small handgun in the waist band of her jeans. The metal felt cool and deadly against her skin. Annabeth shivered and prayed she wouldn't have to shoot it.

When they were ready, Percy slipped his hand into Annabeth's and together they scurried outside. Annabeth stayed close to Percy, pressing herself into his body, mostly to hide the trembling in her limbs. Percy wrapped an arm around her waist, leaning down to whisper in her ear, "Once we get up here, we'll be surrounded by people. Just do like we planned and we'll be okay."

Annabeth nodded, swallowing hard. Percy led her into an alleyway and then they came out onto one of the main streets in the Pit, still thriving with life despite it being in the middle of the night. Percy squeezed her waist and Annabeth relaxed into him, putting a playful, flirty smile onto her face. She giggled and played with the hem of his shirt and placed small kisses on his neck and prayed that they looked like a couple running off to have some private time.

Thankfully, no one gave them a second glance. Annabeth's heart pounded so hard that she was afraid that it would jump right out of her chest. She buried her face in the crook of Percy's neck, partly to make their act look believable and partly to hide her trembling lips. Percy rubbed tiny circles with his thumb into her skin but it did little to calm her down.

Out of the corner of her eye, Annabeth saw a sharp movement. She pulled her head away from Percy and glanced to her left, spotting a familiar-looking man standing by one of the brothels. He was watching them intently, and when Annabeth made eye contact with him, his hand strayed near his waist. Annabeth knew with a sickening feeling that he had a gun hidden there. Her stomach dropped.

"Percy," Annabeth muttered. She felt Percy stiffen and knew that he heard her. "Percy, one of Luke's men is over there. He's watching us."

She didn't have to see Percy to know that he was looking at the man. He cursed under his breath. "Keep walking," he instructed a shaking Annabeth. "When I tell you to run, you run, but stay close to me." Annabeth gave the slightest of nods and her entire body stiffened, preparing for flight. Percy led her through the area, navigating through drunk men and street fighters and drug dealers, keeping her close and tight to his side. The whole time, Annabeth remained aware of the man, who was slowly drawing closer to them.

"Percy, he's getting closer," Annabeth said, her voice quivering with panic.

Percy didn't reply, but he moved a little faster, pushing through the throng of people until they finally made it to a smaller street, one that Annabeth recognized. It led to the canyon.

"Run," Percy whispered in her ear. Then he took her hand and the two of them bolted down the street, running so fast that Annabeth couldn't feel the ground beneath her. She heard a yell and then the sound of footsteps following them and panic clawed up her throat but adrenaline kept her going. She kept up as Percy pulled her on, twisting and turning through the houses until finally – with a cry of relief – Annabeth saw the edge of the canyon a hundred yards ahead of them. She pushed on, knowing that if she could get there, she would be safe.

Then there was a loud pop and something small and sharp and forceful hit Annabeth's shoulder, sending her toppling to the ground with a scream. Her hand was wrenched out of Percy's. She barely heard his scream over the roaring sound of pain in her shoulder. She screamed again, feeling blood pour down her arm like little red rivers. Through a haze of pain, she saw Percy – who had been thrown to the ground too – scramble towards her only to be subdued by four of Luke's men. He fought against them, finally giving up when he realized that it was no use. Annabeth shut her eyes tight, hands shaking. She'd been shot. She'd been shot and Percy was captured and their escape had failed. Tears burned the backs of her eyelids.

"Annabeth." It wasn't Percy talking. It was Luke. His voice sent shivers down her spine. She opened her eyes, her vision blurring with tears, to see the man himself strolling into view, a shining silver gun in his hands. Annabeth clutched her shoulder, blood seeping through her fingers, and glared.

"Annabeth," Luke said again, "what are you doing?"

Annabeth didn't say anything. Luke didn't deserve words. Luke didn't deserve the dirt on her shoes.

Luke chuckled. "I sure hope you're not trying to escape," he said. "I'm afraid that would quite hurt my feelings. After all, I've showed you nothing but generosity."

At that, Annabeth laughed out loud. "Generosity?" she questioned. "You are the most selfish man on the planet. You're showed me nothing but cruelty and I hate you for it."

She expected Luke to get angry. Instead, he smiled and Annabeth couldn't help but be reminded of the Cheshire cat. "Nothing you say could make your situation better right now, Annabeth. I've caught you. You failed. Face the facts."

Luke's gaze was cruel and Annabeth looked away so he wouldn't see her tears. He was right. She had failed. Here she was, fallen to the ground while Luke stood above her. He had the upper hand. He'd always had the upper hand.

Luke walked towards her and bent down so that he was eye-level with her. When he looked at her now, his face was full of some unreadable emotion, one that made Annabeth uncomfortable. She shied away from him and when she did, she felt something press against her back.

The cool metal of a gun.

Hope soared within her. Her weapons. She had accepted defeat so easily that she had forgotten that she was armed. Granted, she wasn't the best fighter, but if she could just hold her own until Percy got free, then they had a chance of getting out of this alive.

"Here's your final test, Annabeth," Luke told her. "Your chances of escaping are pretty much nonexistent right now. You can both give up now and come with me, or you can die trying to escape. You choose."

Annabeth slowly brought her hand to her back, keeping eye contact with Luke the whole time. When she wrapped her fingers around the gun, she said to Luke, "I choose neither."

Then she threw the gun at Percy.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Everything that happened after that was a blur.

Percy caught the gun with ease and pressed the barrel at one of the men holding him and shot him in the stomach. He toppled to the ground with a pained cry and Percy and able to break free from the other men while simultaneously shooting two more. The last man was smarter, running straight at Percy and knocking the gun from his hand before he could shoot him. The two grappled on the ground and Annabeth figured that Percy was able to hold his own for a while.

She turned to Luke, who was red with rage. "You—" He never finished whatever he was going to say because Annabeth drew a knife that was hidden under her shirt and pressed it against his neck.

"You let us go," Annabeth said in a deadly calm voice, "or I swear I will slit your throat."

She felt Luke swallow against the edge of her blade. His features melted into a fearful expression and it scared Annabeth how satisfying it was to see that.

"You're going to kill everyone," Annabeth said, her knife still against his throat. "I know what you're planning. I saw the weapons. You're going to kill everyone here. You're going to 'clean out' the Pit in order to make room for the next generation of evil twins." Luke opened his mouth to argue, but Annabeth pressed the knife harder, effectively cutting him off. "Don't try to lie. I can see the truth in your eyes. You want to know what else I've learned? I've learned that the people here aren't all bad. A lot of the people here are handicaps, people who don't fit into the perfect society of Elysium. We're the misfits and I hate to break it to you, Luke, but you were thrown in here just like the rest of us. You're an outcast too." Annabeth paused. "And I feel sorry for you."

Luke's face was drained of color. He stared at Annabeth in wonder, like he couldn't believe that she had figured out what she had. "You'll die out there," he argued weakly. "It's all wilderness. There's no one out there who can save you."

He was right, of course. It was all wilderness and Annabeth was practically committing suicide by trying to go out into it. But then she remembered what she was doing it for. These people – most of who had done nothing wrong – were going to be killed for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were helpless. Annabeth had been helpless so many times in her life. She remembered the torture her cousins had put her through, the abuse her aunt and uncle had practiced on her, the government officials who had thrown her out in the middle of the desert to fend for herself. She remembered her parents, burning to death in her home. She remembered Malcolm, helping her out the window in his little Tin Man costume, acting like a real knight in shining armor just before the house exploded with him inside it. Annabeth had always let life just happen to her inside of making life happen and she wouldn't stand for it anymore. Not when there were innocent lives on the line.

Annabeth stared at Luke and repeated the familiar words, "Maybe it's time that the princess saves herself."

Luke opened his mouth to reply, but he never got the chance before Annabeth drove her blade into his stomach. He gasped, his whole body stiffening. Annabeth drew the blade out, surprised when tears blurred her vision. She stood, avoiding looking at Luke, who called out weakly to her. She turned her attention to Percy, crying out when she saw him pinned to the ground, fighting desperately to keep the gun's barrel pointed away from his face. Annabeth ran over to them and sunk her knife hilt-deep into the man's side. He exhaled sharply and fell on top of Percy, who quickly pushed him away and jumped up, enveloping Annabeth in a hug. She closed her eyes and let herself, for five seconds, be comforted by Percy.

"Thank you," Percy murmured into her hair. It was just two simple words, but Annabeth could feel their weight. She had just saved his life.

"I love you," she replied by way of explanation. Percy hugged her tighter and pressed a light kiss on her forehead. Annabeth would have been content to stay that way forever, but they had to move. More men were coming. Annabeth could practically hear their footsteps.

Pulling away from Percy, Annabeth looked back at the way they came in surprise. She actually could hear their footsteps. About seven more men, as big and strong as Percy was, were heading towards them. Annabeth's stomach dropped, fear rising in her throat. There was no way they could escape now.

Suddenly, she felt Percy's hands on her back. "Go," he instructed, pushing her towards the canyon. "Go. I'll be right behind you."

"What?" Annabeth cried. "No! No way am I leaving you behind!"

In response, Percy pulled something out of his pocket. It was a small and sleek little black sphere. Annabeth's breath left her body when she realized what it was.

A grenade.

Annabeth latched on to Percy's arm. "No," she told him. "Percy, if you don't get away fast enough, you could blow to pieces."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take, if it means that you get to safety."

"Yeah?" Annabeth argued, panicked tears streaming down her face. "Well, it's not a risk that I'm willing to take! I'm not leaving without you."

The men were getting closer. Percy still wasn't moving and hysteria was bubbling up inside Annabeth. Desperate, she latched on to Percy's arm and ran towards the cliffs, dragging him along behind her. He reluctantly followed, the grenade still in his hand.

They skidded to a stop at the edge of the Grand Canyon. Annabeth almost cried with relief when she saw that Grover and Clarisse were already there, waiting for them about two hundred feet below. Clarisse yelled something, but Annabeth couldn't hear it over the sound of the men getting closer. They were only fifty feet away now.

She began climbing down. The cliff was steep, but Annabeth had climbed down here before. She moved with expertise, making it about ten feet down before looking back up at Percy. He wore an apologetic expression. Annabeth froze.

"Percy," she warned.

Percy shook his head. "I have to do it, Annabeth, or we won't make it." Before Annabeth could argue any further, Percy stood and turned to face their attackers, pulling the pin as he did so.

The rest happened so fast, that Annabeth could barely keep up.

An explosion rocked the ground and echoed in the canyon. Annabeth lost her balance and fell five more feet to a small ledge, almost toppling over the side of it and falling another two hundred feet. A scream ripped out of her throat, and it was the most heart-wrenchingly painful sound Annabeth had ever heard. As she looked up, she saw smoke and fire billowing up into the sky, and it reminded her so much of the night she became an orphan. As she stared up at the flames, screaming, she flashed back to another time, ten years ago, when she stared up at a window. The flames had taken everyone she'd loved then too.

Would fate really be so cruel as to take away what she loved most again?

Her heart pounded and she coughed and she screamed and she called out for Percy but he wasn't coming and the fear was eating her alive and she wondered if this is what she got for fighting for what she believed in.

But then – but then – she saw him, covered in smoke and dirt and scrambling clumsily down the side of the cliff, but alive, and it was like she was breathing for the first time after an eternity underwater.

Percy lost his balance halfway down and slipped the rest of the way down to her, landing on top of her. She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck and ignoring the burning sensation in her shoulder. He was alive and he was here and he had saved them. They were home free, at last.

"I thought you were dead," Annabeth sobbed, using her thumbs to rub the dirt from his face.

Percy smiled and turned his face so he could kiss the palm of her hand. "Like I would ever leave you," he replied with a contagious grin. "Honestly, Annabeth, you've got to put more faith in me."

Annabeth let out a disbelieving bark of laughter and rolled her eyes. "You idiot," she scolded affectionately before pulling him down and kissing him like the world was ending.

Annabeth didn't know what would happen now. She didn't know if they would find help or if anyone would even believe what they said. She didn't even know if she would survive to see tomorrow. But for now, she had a purpose. She had people whose lives were in her hands. She had a family and a boy who loved her. And she would fight for them with everything that she had.

Percy pulled away, smiling and pressing his lips to her forehead. She saw the same thing in his eyes that she saw in the faint rising horizon.

A new beginning.

And there you have it! The end. Sorry for leaving you all on a sort-of cliffhanger. Maybe in the future I'll come back to this story and expand on it, but for now, this is it! I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. You all are incredible and I'm so thankful for each and every one of you.

Also! If you have read my other story, The Book Nook, you might be happy to hear that it was nominated for the Fanatic Fanfics Multifandom Award! I was just wondering if you all would like to vote for it! Voting begins April 11 and I posted the link at the end of The Book Nook.

I hope you all have a fantastic day!