The burden of sadness was a heavy one upon Leo's shoulders.

By all means, it shouldn't be there. But it was. The constant reminder, weighing his head down. Forcing him to fall to his knees in his own thoughts, pleading for someone to comfort him. And it hurt. Oh, how it hurt to look around at his friends and believe, no matter how much he was disproved, that he had no place with them.

Every day, he dreaded waking up.

Pretty dismal for a boy known as the class clown, right? Leo thought so as well. These thoughts, these horrible intrusive thoughts, were breaking who he used to be. He couldn't remember who Leo truly was anymore. The humor was only a mask now. A mask to hide what he felt.

And as if the sadness and self hatred weren't enough, he had been feeling a whole bouquet of new emotions. Most of all, he had been feeling fear. Afraid of everything. Afraid of Percy during sword practice. Scared of raised voices, and closed doors. He often woke up in the middle of the night, mind reeling with "what if"s.

What if his friends secretly hated him.

What if he accidentally set them on fire.

What if all the enchiladas were gone.

Scary things like that.

To make things even worse, he was beginning to experience memories. Memories he did not even know he had. His foster mother lifting her hand to hit him. The roaring traffic as he sprinted away from a car in black. A small girl, crouching next to the playground swings, crying with pain as burns blossomed over her fair skin.

And it haunted him. Horribly. And deep inside him, he longed to let someone know. But he was too afraid that he would be labeled a freak. A pretender. A… psycho. Every time he came this close to telling Percy or Annabeth, or ANYONE that he was scared, or worried, or depressed, his mouth seemed to close up. His heart insisted that, should he tell them, they would cease to be his friend.

And he could not bear that. He could not bear being left alone with his nightmares and frights.

And most of the time, he could ignore the creeping sensation of being alone. But tonight, sitting on the cold tile where Festus once sat, he felt even more alone than before.

And it felt, to him, that the world was folding in on him. Crushing him. Destruction.

The lights flickered in Bunker 9, leaving the room momentarily in darkness. But Leo was not afraid of the physical darkness. No, he was afraid of the darkness creeping steadily into his mind.

The Bunker suddenly seemed empty, and in the quiet stillness, he was alone. Truly and utterly alone.

And his mind entered a frenzied state.

"Failure," he spoke out loud into the stale air. "Failure. That is why no one loves you. That is why you've lost so many foster homes."

He crumpled down onto the ground, the nights work forgotten behind him. The machines he loved so much suddenly felt cold… and distant. He craved the comfort of another human, but camp was so far away. And his legs were weak beneath him.

Hot tears began to fall down his face as his stomach dropped to his toes, pooling sadly. He clenched his hands, determined to keep his eyes wide, staring into the darkness. He shook his curly hair, tears falling unseen onto the cold ground. His fists were tight, eyes clenched.

"Don't let them see, Leo. Don't let them see your pain. You are not worth their pity." His chest heaved and shook, the images of his mother suspended in fire dancing on his eyelids. He suddenly felt so… small. As if his chest had collapsed into itself. As if he was fading from existence.

Darkness held his soul in cold hands, and his eyes burned.

Years of fighting monsters, journeying the world, and being overly sarcastic in front of dangerously powerful gods, and this lonely night had been the thing to bring him to his knees.

He closed his eyes again, burying his head deep into his folded arms. The images on the backs of his eyelids dance dangerously. He sees things… he does not want to see.

A heavily scarred man, his fist raised in anger above Leo's head.

He lets out a whimper of fear.

His mother's face. The concerned expression as she senses fire.

Leo raised his head from his arms. He held his hands out in front of him, palms facing up. Fire danced along his fingers, warming their joints and bathing the bunker in an orange glow.

Murderer.

He let his hands fall to his sides. Sleep overtook him like a kidnapper.

The morning came too quickly. Leo raised his head from his stupor, looking around the bunker. The door was opened. Light streamed through. Panic seized Leo as he glanced around, suddenly aware of the presence of a person in the area.

"Leo! There you are!"

Leo leapt to his feet, fists balled in front of him. His mind went blank with fear, and he swung desperately in front of him. His punch was stopped by a sudden blast of air against his hand. Jason Grace stood in front of him, eyes wide with shock. His hand was up, directing the air against Leo to hold him back.

"Relax, man. It's me. You didn't come back to camp last night, so we figured you had fallen asleep out here again. It's breakfast time, and you need to hurry up if you want pancakes." Jason lowered his hand, and the wind let go of Leo's hand.

Leo could plainly see it was Jason, but anger overtook him and he swung again, fist narrowly missing the boy's jaw. "Don't SCARE me like that!" Leo screamed.

"Whoa, man… I think you're doing the scaring here," mumbled Jason. "What is up? Are you okay?"

Leo turned away from him, stumbling towards the morning light outside. "Yeah, let's get breakfast." Sadness continued to overtake his every step, as if a switch had been switched in his mind.

Depression. Is that what it was called? But of course, no one should know.