A/N: So many of you asked for another Pertemis fanfic . . . so here it is. I've never seen one where Percy gets really messed up by Annabeth's death, so guess what?

Warning: Percy will be somewhat (very) depressed in this first chapter. Things will get a bit worse before he gets to his love interest, whoever she is. This may become a sister story to The Proctor of Judgment, which is why I made the first chapter the way it is.

Chapter 1-

BOOM! An explosion rippled across camp, making the Poseidon Cabin shake while Percy rushed to the window. It took him a few seconds to comprehend what he was seeing: the Athena Cabin was gone. Debris was flying through the air, damaging a few other cabins. Annabeth was at Archery. . . . . right? He thought, already dreading the the results

The demigod ran out of the cabin and over to the crater that used to be the Athena Cabin, looking into the crater that marked the grave of who knows how many Athena campers. A glint of bronze on the edge of his sight caught Percy's attention as he looked around. It was a dagger, with a well-worn hilt and a familiar sheath lying nearby. Annabeth's

"Percy?" Connor called, "You okay?"

Connor ran up to my side, following my gaze until he spotted the dagger as well, "Oh, gods. I'm so sorry, Percy."

"She's gone." Percy's voice was hollow, lifeless and in shock. "She's gone. Annabeth's gone."

"Percy, it's gonna be okay, alright?" Connor patted him on the back, "Come on, Chiron's calling a meeting."

"She's gone."

"I know. Come with me, Percy." Connor grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards the Big House. Percy's legs moved of their own accord while his eyes and mind were focused on the dagger.

"She's gone."

"Ah, Perseus and Connor. Please, sit." Chiron motioned to a pair of chairs when the two of them reached the Big House. The rest of the people present looked at the son of Poseidon with pity, but he was too numb to even feel it.

"This is an emergency meeting to find out what happened to the Athena Cabin." Chiron announced, but most of the people around the ping-pong table weren't really paying attention, "It was a magical explosion, we know that much. It was not caused by Greek Fire or any mortal explosive."

"Declan." stated Perseus, his voice empty of emotion.

Clarisse nodded, "He's the only son of Hecate powerful enough to do this."

"But," Chiron cut in, "we have no evidence that is was him. The death toll is currently nineteen children of Athena and a daughter of Aphrodite, Drew Tanaka. Hecate has no grudge against Athena, and if it was an attack on that particular daughter of Aphrodite, why would he destroy up the entire Athena Cabin?"

"Does it matter?" Clarisse countered, "We have twenty dead, and the only one powerful enough to cause that kind of magical explosion. Who, if you'd notice, is not here."

Then Mr. D flashed in, "Right, where is the brat? Zeus wants a villain, so I'm bringing him one. Clara, get Dennis."

Chiron coughed politely, "Clarisse and Declan, actually, but I beg you not to rule on Declan's innocence so early."

Clarisse glared at the centaur, "I have my orders, Chiron."

With that, Clarisse turned and strode out of the room, her third electric spear already in her hand. Chiron turned back to Mr. D, "Declan couldn't have done something like this! He fought in both the Titan and Giant Wars, and very valiantly, I might add. He has no motive to do this, and he had much better opportunities in the past!"

"It doesn't matter." The son of Poseidon's voice was hollow, but with an undercurrent of anger, "Declan was the only one who could've killed Anna . . . Annabeth."

His head fell into his hands, tears flowing into the. palms, "I'm not letting him go, Chiron. If the Olympians don't kill him, I will."

"Perseus, my boy, don't do this." Chiron pleaded, "Don't make a decision you will regret."

Percy gritted his teeth, forcing the tears back, "The only thing I'll regret is if I'm not the one to kill him."

Just then, Clarisse came back, shoving Declan in front of him. Chiron turned back to Dionysus, "I do not believe Declan would have done such a deplorable act!"

"Zeus' orders." Mr. D spat, "I'm taking this brat up to Olympus."

Chiron, defeated, turned to the son of Hecate, "Do not be afraid. We can prove your innocence."

Dionysus grabbed Declan's arm and flashed away. Percy sat slumped into the chair, staring listlessly into the green surface of the ping-pong table.

‡—XXXXX—‡

"Jackson, you'll have to get up sometime." Clarisse growled.

"My answer is the same as it was three hours ago." Percy replied, still looking at the table. "She's dead."

"Oh, boo-hoo, Jackson." Clarisse snarled, "You think you're the only one who lost someone today? I had friends in the Athena Cabin to. Close friends. But you don't see me moping around."

"They weren't her."

"Oh, and that makes them unimportant?" demanded Clarisse, "You think that your girlfriend is the only life that mattered? Well, you're fucking wrong, Jackson. You know who else mattered? Mal. Scott. Grayson. Philip. Taylor. Maybe they don't matter to you, High and Mighty Jackson, but they matter to me."

Percy still didn't move, then Clarisse screamed in rage and stabbed me with the blunt end of her spear. Electricity arced through his spasming body, sending it to the floor.

"What's your problem, la Rue?" Percy shouted, getting up, "You think you can just stab people when you're angry?"

"I can stab you, Jackson." Clarisse yelled back.

The son of Poseidon balled his fists and sent a right hook to Clarisse's jaw. She stumbled back before raising her fists as well. They pummeled each other with our bare hands, taking out all thier anger and grief on one another. Percy's finger dislocated after a particularly hard punch to the daughter of Ares' ribs, but he kept going. An elbow slammed into the demigod's ribs, cracking at least one and sent him stumbling backwards. The daugther of Ares grabbed Percy by the shirt collar, lifting him up and throwing him into the table. As his staggered to his feet, Percy grabbed a chair and flung it at her. Clarisse's left arm broke with a crack as the chair hit it, but she just grinned and lunged at the demigod.

Percy was body-slammed into the wall before Clarisse grabbed his shoulders and shoved the demigod into the table again. The son of Poseidon growled, swinging to his feet and grabbing Clarisse's arms before slamming his forehead into her nose. Blood exploded from it as broke, most of it landing on Percy's face before he threw her into the door. It broke under the force, sending her into the hall. The demigod lunged after her, ready for more when he heard a desperate voice.

"Stop!" Chiron ordered, "What have you done?"

Reluctantly, Percy stood back as he waited for to Clarisse get to her feet. She didn't, and the son of Poseidon joined her on the floor a few seconds later.

‡—XXXXX—‡

Percy's chest was a mass of bruises when he came around.

"Hey Chiron, he's awake!" Cameron called. Cameron was the head of the Nemesis Cabin, and was an old friend of Percy's from before the Titan War.

Chiron clip-clopped over, looking down at the young man with disapproval, "Why would you fight with Clarisse like that?"

"I was grieving. She was grieving. We helped each other." Percy replied, feeling alive for the first time since she died, "Believe me, it helped."

"Perseus, my boy, you had over fifteen broken bones, and twice that cracked." Chiron replied, "There is bruising all over your body, and even internal bleeding. Whatever "help" she gave you, it came at a horrible price."

Percy's throat tightened, "Is Clarisse. . ."

"Dead?" Chiron shrugged, "That remains to be seen. Some of her nose went backwards into her skull, but she had fewer broken bones and less internal bleeding. She is currently in Apollo's palace, unconscious."

The son of Poseidon sighed in relief, "So I just have kitchen duty?"

Chiron nodded, "For the next three months. Along with Clarisse."

Percy nodded, and Chiron turned away before looking over his shoulder at the demigod, "Perseus, if you need help coping with Annabeth's death you can always come to me."

Like hell, Percy thought. He knew better than to get up and get what he wanted, instead turning to Cameron, "Can you get me a sheet of paper and a pencil?"

"Sure."

The son of Nemesis headed out, then returned a few minutes with a notebook and a few pencils, "Chiron told me you have to stay there for the rest of the day, at least. The night passed while you were unconscious, by the way."

"Thanks, Cameron." Percy took opened the notebook then sat back, thinking. Once he made up his mind, the demigod started writing,

Clarisse,

Thank you. The fighting knocked some sense into me, and it feels like something's changed, Just fighting again kinda. . . woke me up, I guess.

Growling unhappily, Percy tore that sheet of paper, and started a new page.

Clarisse,

Thank you. The fight helped me get out of that mood. Ever since Annabeth's death, I felt empty and hollow-

The demigod ripped that one up as well. He didn't want a replacement for Annabeth. He didn't want to make it sound like he wanted to become boyfriend to Clarisse. He just wanted to say thanks.

Clarisse,

Get well soon, and thank you for everything.

Percy Jackson

Percy looked at the finished note with satisfaction, then folded it up and turned back to the notebook with nothing to do. So he started writing:

12/24/2015- Journal One?

You know, I never thought I'd ever write in a journal. But hey, I'm stuck in a bed for the rest of the day, what else can I do? So I guess this is it. Yesterday, Annabeth died. I don't want to say she was the love of my life, but I think she was. When she died, I just stopped thinking and feeling, mostly. Should I put the date of her death in here? I mean, it's just a day before the date I put down at the top, right? Whatever: 12/23/2015. There we go. Now it's just a number. Shouldn't I feel, like, angry at her death? Sad? Empty? I've read something, somewhere, that says sad comes later. Shock comes first, and I think that's past now. So where am I? Lost?

Whatever. The future is what matters, right?

12/25/2015- Journal Two

Clarisse's fine, by the way. Apparently fighting helped her, too. I got out of my bed, but I can't do anything "strenuous" for the next week. So guess what? I'm writing here again. Clarisse is still in bed, though. I got Annabeth's dagger from Travis, and Connor found her necklace, somehow. Hell, I thought it would be in Europe after that explosion. Anyways, they're both hanging on the wall. The pain is coming, too. Every time I look at the necklace, I just . . . . I just . . . . . ah, whatever. The future is what matters, right?

12/28/2016- Journal Five

Clarisse is conscious again, finally. We also served the first day of kitchen duty together. We didn't talk at all, only washing with silence. Then, after we were done, Clarisse took out her dagger and made a cut on her arm, about five inches."One inch for every one of my friends who died there." She said. If I did that, would Annabeth only be one inch? Would I make it two? Three inches?

Gods, every time I look at that dagger, it hurts. Like homesickness, maybe. Like I'm expecting it to be on her waist, but it isn't. It'll never be. I can't understand how the necklace is in one piece, too. I mean, it was a big enough explosion to tear apart her body, but there weren't any parts near the dagger or necklace. So she must've taken it off, right? Whatever, the future is what matters, right?

1/1/2016- Journal Eight

Lucky number seven? Fuck that. I took apart Annabeth's necklace today, and strung her beads on my own. I guess I can remember her that way. But gods, it feels like I'm carrying the sky again. Those beads. . . . they feel like they're choking me. Like they want to kill me. For the explosion? It wasn't my fault, was it? It wasn't my fault, right, Annabeth? It wasn't my fault, Annabeth! It wasn't my fault! I swear, it wasn't my fault! Please, Annabeth, it wasn't my fault!

Oh, gods, what am I writing here? What was this even supposed to be? My memoirs? The Great American Novel? Ah, fuck it all.

"Hey, watcha writing?" Travis butted in, sitting down right next to Percy.

The son of Poseidon slammed the notebook shut, "Nothing. Just passing time. Basketball?"

"Sure. You hardly hang with us anymore."

Percy sighed, "It's been a rough what, week now? Can't believe it's only been a week."

"Hey, man, it'll get better." Travis replied, slapping his back, "Remember Silena, and how Connor and I got her out of thar funk?"

"The Great Pie Incident, how could I forget?" chuckled the son of Poseidon, remembering how Travis and Connor -along with some of the Hephaestus Cabin- reprogrammed over a dozen automatons to fill pie crusts with whipped cream and throw them at Silena for a whole day. Once she got over the fact that her favorite outfit was ruined, she returned -mostly- to the world.

"Well, it worked." Travis grinned mischievously, giving Percy a very bad feeling . . .

"Ah, son-of-a-" A pie shell filled with whipped cream hit Percy's face with a dead aim, filling his vision with sugar. Percy jumped to his feet, feeling another pie hit his shoulder and another hitting his rear. Connor and Travis were laughing up a storm as the son of Poseidon ducked and dodged randomly. The automatons, however, weren't missing. Pie after pie started turning the demigod's whole body white as he ran around wildly.

"Watch out! That's the-" Percy slammed into the side of a building, no doubt leaving the perfect picture of my body in whipped cream behind. He spun, running off in another direction. A branch caught his foot, then son of Poseidon face-planted into water. The whipped cream floated off of the demigod's body, letting him scrambled out of the water again like a wet -well, dry- dog.

The barrage of pies still followed the son of Poseidon, re-covering his body with white. Percy ran at Travis, cursing, then hid behind him as more pies flew.

"Hey, Percy!" Connor called. "Catch!"

Percy spun right in time for another pie to hit him full in the face. He turned to start running again, only to slam into an automaton, who promptly buried his head in the white stuff. Running in another random direction, the son of Poseidon promptly slammed into another camper.

"Gods, not this again!" screeched Lacy.

"Sorry!" yelled Percy -still blind- then ducked. A pie flew over his head, hitting the daughter of Aphrodite he ran into.

The next this the son of Poseidon ran into was the Big House. Or he thought it was the Big House, until something started to lick his face. You taste good, boss! Like a sugar cube!

"Really, Blackjack?" replied Percy, straightening himself. "Care to give me a ride?"

Hop on, boss! Feeling around, still blind, he climbed on the pegasus' back. Blackjack's wings beat on either side of the son of Poseidon until he was far out of range of the automatons, then -and only then- did Percy wipe whipped cream of his eyes.

"Thanks." Percy looked down at the journal, which was covered in whipped cream but otherwise fine. The two of them were flying high over the ocean, Long Island only a few hundred meters behind them, "Mind if I get off here?"

Instead of replying, Blackjack did a barrel roll in midair, throwing the son of Poseidon off. "Thanks!"

Percy landed with a huge splash, sinking through the water as the whipped cream was washed off his body. All around him, fish swam about.A Great White came sniffing, swimming around me. The son of Poseidon reached out, brushing the shark's rough skin as it glided through the water.

"Guess it's time to go back, sharkie." commented Percy. He could almost hear Annabeth's reply, along the lines of: Sharkie, Seaweed Brain? Really?

"Or . . . I could get some whipped-cream."

‡—XXXXX—‡

Percy crept into the Hermes Cabin, late at night and carrying two huge bowls of whipped-cream. Both bowls were bigger than the demigod's head, perfect for exacting his revenge.

Connor and Travis were sleeping near the door, on a bunk bed. Using a bit of trickery and mad parkouring skills, the son of Poseidon got onto the top bunk without either of them waking. As soon as Travis took a breath, Percy dropped the first upside-down bowl of the airy sugar on the son of Hermes' face before dropping to the floor and dumping the second on Connor. Then Percy beat a hasty retreat from the Hermes Cabin, dodging the patrol harpies as he made it back to the Poseidon Cabin.

Percy glanced around his cabin before his gaze settled on Annabeth's dagger. Hesitating, he pulled it -sheath and all- down from the wall. The son of Poseidon drew the razor-sharp blade, turning it over and over in his hand before pressing it to the skin of his forearm. Then he pressed down, the razor-sharp blade slicing easily through his skin until the cut was four inches. One inch for each year Percy was at Camp Half-Blood, before Annabeth died.

He pulled the blade away, feeling the blood run down his arm. Grabbing his journal and flipping to the right page, the son of Poseidon added a single line to his entry earlier today: I'm sorry, Annabeth. I wish I could've saved you, but I couldn't.

Reaching into his pocket, Percy took out Riptide and uncapped it. The blade grew in his hand, then he pressed the cap to the tip of the blade. It shrunk into a pen again, but with a sharp, Celestial Bronze point. Percy grabbed Annabeth's dagger, putting in on the ground while he held the pen above it. Then the pen came down, carving the first Greek letter into the Celestial Bronze blade.

When the son of Poseidon was done scratching the words into the blade, he held it up to his eyes:

Θάνατος- σήμανση Αγάπη.

Percy sheathed the dagger again before lying back in bed, his blood staining the sea-green sheets red.

1/3/2016- Journal Ten

Clarisse saw the cut, of course. The first cut she made already healed over without a scar -after all, it's a pretty shallow wound. The necklace seems lighter today, like it was waiting for me to cut myself. Was it? Should I even be doing this? I'll start wearing the dagger, I guess.

Connor and Travis got back at me, but now I don't have the spirit to fight another prank war. I think Chiron might've seen the scars, too, but he stayed silent. He should just be grateful I'm not spacing out anymore. Hell, I thought I'd be spaced-out forever those . . . ten days ago, now? Wow. The first week seemed so slow. The Second Great Pie Incident cheered me up for a few days, I guess. I like writing in this. I can't put my emotions in here, and I feel like I'm talking to someone. I guess I'm talking to myself, but this is a lot more not-insane. Should I ever stop writing in this? Maybe one day, I'll just give up.

How about this? I'll stop writing when I fall in love again. Then this'll be the journal of my recovery. Or death.

Percy looked up from the notebook at the dagger on the table. Sighing, he buckled it on before drawing it and cutting another eight-inch mark down his arm. Four parallel cuts now adorned the well-tanned skin, the first healing over while the second just was scabbing. The third was simply not bleeding anymore, while the fourth -of course- was still wet and red.

There was pounding on the door, "Percy? You in there?"

"Yeah." replied Percy, opening the door to reveal Connor and Travis, "What?"

"Come on, Percy! Capture the Flag tonight, didn't you hear?" Connor asked.

"I think so."

"Well, you're with us, Hephaestus, Hades, Apollo, and most of the minor god cabins." Travis said, "Now, let's talk strategy."

Percy shrugged, "Ares'll do their phalanx down the middle with most of their guys, right? So we put lines of traps here, here, and here. Have the archers and javelin-throwers on the Pile of Deer Droppings. I'll get some people good with a sword around here, see? Then have the Nemesis bunch guarding the flag. They're nasty. You guys lead the rest of them around here, past Bunker Nine."

‡—XXXXX—‡

The conch horn signaled the match starting, which made Percy turn to the two dozen swordsmen and women behind him, "Remember the plan? Good."

The heavy tramp of boots alerted the son of Poseidon to the Ares phalanx, which was breaking around trees,then headed across river with the same heavy stomping. They were all on Percy's side of the river when chaos exploded in their ranks. A dozen sonic arrowheads were rigged underground as the first line of traps.

"Charge!" yelled Percy, leading with Riptide raised as they slammed into the broken phalanx from the side. Shield-bashing an unfortunate Ares camper, the son of Neptune hit another in the helm with the flat of his blade before they re-organized, pivoting to face the swordsmen/women.

"Retreat!" Perct yelled again, sending the other swordsmen and women around him scrambling away. They scattered into the forest before re-grouping at certain tree. Four of them didn't make it, presumably lost in the fighting, "Let's go!"

The plan, in essence, was to wear down the phalanx with hit-and-runs, buying time for Connor and Travis to take the vast majority of the Blue Team's guys into the Red Team's side of the forest and steal their flag. The phalanx came into sight again, having given up chasing Percy's quick, lightly-armored swordsmen and resumed their march. Three meters . . . two . . . one.

Greek fire exploded around the campers as they reached the second line of traps.

"Charge!" shouted Percy. They erupted out of the forest again, attacking the phalanx's rear as the Red Team scrambled in panic. This time, the swords-people had a little more of an advantage on thier side as we fought the phalanx, which still had something like seventy campers. That's almost all their guys, Percy realized. Then who's guarding the flag?

No one was, as it turned out. The conch blared in the middle of the battle with Connor walking up, holding the red flag in a triumphant grip. Blue Team cheered raucously while the phalanx groaned with equal intensity.

"Victory goes to blue team!" Chiron announced, trotting up.

Cheering, the rest of Blue Team lifted Connor and Travis to their shoulders and carried the twins back to the cabins.

1/5/2015- Journal Twelve

It's really starting to hurt. Not just the cuts, either. The necklace is getting heavy again, and the dagger feels like a few tons. The burden of guilt? Was it my fault? Did I do something wrong? Why was her necklace not on her neck?

We burned the shrouds today, all twenty of them. No one knew which body parts belonged to which person, so we just divided them up and burned them. I really didn't want to finish what Declan started, but I had to set her shroud alight anyways. Hades flashed in, saying that they all made Elysium. A small mercy, I guess. Nico offered to take me down to Elysium to see her, but I refused. I . . . I can't see her again. I know she's dead, and she needs to stay dead. I can't think about her. I should move past this, but it's only been, what, twelve days? What would it take to move past her? I don't want another girlfriend. Ever. But what if that's what it takes for the pain to stop? Or maybe I'll just get used to it? Do I even want to?

1/24/2016- Journal Thirty-four

It's been about a month since she died, and it hurts more than it did on #3 or #5. Why? Shouldn't it hurt less in time? Or should it grow, like as infection? Maybe one day, I'll just die. I think I'm slipping, too. I keep losing sparring matches against people I should be able to beat. I've been beating them for a long time before this, why couldn't I now? Clarisse and I got into another fistfight, and Chiron put us both on cabin-arrest for a week. Which means I'm writing in here. Joy of joys.

My whole right arm feels weak. It is weak, actually, my left is stronger now. Should I stop? Why am I doing it in the first place? What if I end up crippling my arm because of this? Would it be worth it? I really think I loved Annabeth. Loved? You don't love her anymore? Fine, love, and now I'm talking to myself of paper. Just wonderful. Maybe I should start making cuts on my neck instead. Would I get into Elysium, even though I failed Annabeth?

Perct closed the notebook, setting it on his nightstand before turning off the lights and curling up under the covers. The cleaning harpies kept changing them every night, thankfully. Sleeping in his own dried blood didn't seem very appealing to the demigod.

But every demigod knew what sleep brought: Dreams.

Nico sat next to Annabeth in the Underworld, comforting the daughter of Athena. Annabeth had her face in her hands while Nico rubbed her back, "Annabeth, he doesn't want to hurt you. He just can't handle seeing you right now. Maybe in a week."

Annabeth looked up at him, disbelieving the son of Hades, "That's what you said a month ago."

"Believe me, Annabeth, he isn't having a good time either." Nico said, "He's cut himself off from everyone else. Sure, he smiles and talks and plays CTF, but it isn't him. I can see it in his eyes, the same thing I saw in mine after Bianca died and I ran away. I saw this scar on his arm, too straight and precise to be a battle wound. He's hurting himself, Annabeth."

"You're not helping, Nico."

Nico sighed, "I'm really not good at this, am I? Will is, though. Gods, where would I be without him?"

Annabeth looked at the son of Hades curiously, "You love him?"

Nico sighed, "Yes, no, maybe? Every time I see Percy, it hurts. Seeing him like that. . . it's painful. But Will helps me every time. So yes, I guess."

"I wish I could talk to Percy." Annabeth whispered, "Can't you trick him down here?"

Nico shook his head, "I won't do that. And you might talk to him soon, Annabeth. That's the scary thing. I can see his life fading. Fading, Annabeth. I think he's just not really living anymore, not without you. He's all but killing himself, a little at a time, to be with you."

Annabeth burst out crying again, "Why? WHY?"

Percy bolted upright, covered in cold sweat, his mind racing over Nico's words and mulling the possibilities.

Some time after, his alarm beeped loudly, telling the son of Poseidon it was seven o' clock. Percy changed into the camp shirt and jeans, then headed for breakfast. He ate alone at the Poseidon table, thinking about what he should do. It all really boiled down to three options: Move on, join Annabeth, or continue the way he was. Percy didn't really want to betray Annabeth by getting another girlfriend, and he also didn't want to betray her by taking the easy road and killing himself.

Breakfast passed, along with most of the day. Percy wrote his thirty-fifth journal entry, then flipped back through the pages, starting from the beginning. It seemed like nothing had changed since that eighth entry, except for the son of Poseidon getting physically weaker and more apathetic. Chiron looked at him with pity, while he and Clarisse had grown further apart since the second fight.

1/26/2016- Journal Thirty-Six

I went to Chiron today, and asked for help getting over Annabeth. He told me to let go of her memory, to accept her death and move on. I know she's dead, and I fully accept that. But I can't let go of her memory or move on. She was everything to me, and that was amazing. Should she be worth any less to me in death than in life? Should I be that shallow, moving on only a month after she died? Chiron said making progress takes time, but what progress have I made? None, other than Clarisse fighting. Is the process over, then? Or am I stuck in it?

I should destroy this journal, break the dagger and burn the necklace. Start over entirely, maybe move to London or something. But isn't death universal? Isn't that why he wasn't affected by the whole Greek-Roman thing? So wherever I go, her death will always be with me. Nico ran from Bianca's death. How did he get past it? He never told me, should I ask? Would that be too personal?

I can't believe I'm still writing in this, actually. So I guess I'll end it here.

‡—XXXXX—‡

Time Skip: Two Months (3/26/2016)

"Anything?" asked Percy hopefully. Clarisse, the other "leader" of Camp Half-Blood, shook her head tiredly. Some creature had killed a demigod a while ago, and no one had seen hide nor hair of it since.

"Nothing." She replied, "I didn't expect to find anything, either. It's been over a week since Draco died and the punk had it coming, if you ask me."

"And yet," I commented, "We're still looking for the killer."

"He's a demigod. Whoever killed him is a threat." Clarisse replied bluntly, "Anything new happen here?"

Clarisse had taken a few Ares campers to look for a something that killed Draco Lanstead a while back. The tracks disappeared, but Clarisse went in that direction, looking for anything. Meanwhile, the son of Poseidon was stuck in Camp.

Percy groaned, "Nothing new."

Clarisse raised an eyebrow, obviously not believing him. Percy stood, turning to the door, "I'm going for a walk."

They were both inside the War Room before the son of Poseidon left, heading for the forest. After Leo's discovery of Bunker Nine a bit more then a year ago, people were constantly trying to find more secrets hidden in the trees.

Riptide was in Percy's hand as he walked, and Annabeth's dagger was at his waist. No way he was going to be caught defenseless.

The first monster the demigod came across was something with a goat head and goat legs. Not a Satyr -for sure- and defiantly not as friendly. Percy rolled to the side as it charged, then buried Riptide up to the hilt in it's body. It turned to dust as the son of Poseidon strode away, not noticing the hole in the ground until far to late. His foot fell into empty space, and -off-balance- Percy fell headlong into the darkness.

Riptide was still in his hand, though, so the son of Poseidon stabbed it in to the wall. He did the same with Annabeth's dagger, then hit the ground with a heavy thud. Percy sat as still as a statue, glancing around for a delta, silently pleading to the Fates that this wasn't the Labyrinth. Luckily, the demigod didn't see one, and started looking for a way out. An opening led off to the side, but the demigod couldn't see very far down it.

"So," Percy mused aloud, "Stay here and try to climb out, or walk into some dark cave. Ah, who am I kidding?"

The son of Poseidon strode into the darkness, occasionally tripping as his feet and a rock competed for the same spot. But the cave was slowly getting brighter -along with the sound of running water becoming louder- as the demigod kept going, until the cave ended with a blue door. A blue door with "Bunker Three" embedded in bronze over it.

"No way." Percy breathed, summoning enough water to soak his hand before opening the door. Inside, couches and chairs surrounded a crackling fire while the top of the room was transparent, showing the river rushing overhead. There were doors surrounding the room, each leading off in a different direction. Some led to what looked like the Roman military barracks- racks of bunks and not much else- while others were storerooms filled with Greek Fire, godly food, and everything else a bunch of Greeks needed to fight a war. Others still were dedicated armories, training rooms, and even an underground archery range.

The demigod kept exploring, his grief momentarily lifted by the novelty of exploration and discovery. It wouldn't last, however, as once Percy arrived back at the tunnel leading out, the emptiness that Annabeth's death brought returned and left the son of Poseidon silently weeping on the floor.

A/N: I said Pertemis at the beginning, 'cause that's where I'm leaning right now. But there's a poll on my profile that will decide where this story's going, so please take it.

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