PERCY

He could still remember the worst moment of his life, of his entire demigodly career. (And trust him, there's been more than a few.) He'd been lying in his cabin, looking fondly at old pictures of the Seven, of him and Annabeth, and wondering when he'd see his Wise Girl again. Sadly, she'd gone home to see her father and step-mother two weeks ago, but she was due back any day now. He missed her stormy grey eyes, her smile, everything about her. After the Giant War, they'd finally had some well-deserved peace and quiet, and now, six months later, everything was going perfectly. (Of course, Percy knew that that was when something bad was going to happen, but he pushed that feeling away and let himself live.)

"Percy!" The sound of a familiar voice shouting his name in desperation shook him out of his reverie, and he immediately jerked up, drawing Riptide in one graceful motion. An Iris message hovered above his head, showing him an alleyway, bathed in blood, and his Wise Girl, leaning against a brick wall that was so blood-spattered that it was hard to tell what its original colour had been. Her orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt was covered in blood, and he could see a wound on her side oozing blood. She was pale, and he could tell she'd already lost a lot of blood.

"Annabeth!" The heart-wrenching cry tore out of him, and his heart broke, seeing her lying there, so vulnerable, and him helpless to do anything but watch. If only he was there with her right now. "Annabeth, no, you have to hold on – where are you – I'll get you help…"

"No, Seaweed Brain," she whispered, her hand coming up as if to stroke his cheek before falling limply back to her side. "It's too … late …"

"No. Annabeth, you're not dying on me," he choked. "Remember? As long as we're together. You'll be fine. Do you have ambrosia or nectar on you?" He wouldn't, couldn't, accept that she was dying in front of his eyes. There had to be something he could do. "Tell me where you are. I'll send help. Annabeth, please just hold on. For me?"

He turned desperately, trying to figure out what he could do. He couldn't leave his cabin, but where else would he find help? Please, he prayed, to whomever he could think of. Help her. Athena, Apollo, Dad – please. Help her. He didn't know if they heard, but it was the best chance he had. "Chiron!" he shouted, hoping against hope that he would be heard. After all they'd been through together, she just couldn't leave him.

A rasping cough from the IM drew his attention. She looked even weaker now, blood seeping through her fingers at an alarming rate. "It'll be alright, Seaweed Brain," she whispered. "I'll always love you. But please, don't blame yourself for this. It's not your fault," she said, her voice getting weaker with every word she spoke.

Percy had been in enough battles to know when someone was dying, and Annabeth was. But he refused to accept it. She was Annabeth, she was his Wise Girl – she just couldn't die. Not now, not when they had everything to live for. "NO!" he screamed, feeling the ocean outside respond to his tumultuous feelings. "Annabeth!" he yelled, watching her eyelids droop and her breathing get shallower, paralyzed with his own uselessness. "I love you, Annabeth," he choked out. "Don't leave me. Please."

She managed a small smile. "Percy – I – I always loved you. Stay … strong," she coughed. "I'll be waiting for you … in … Elysium …" And with that, the light, the beautiful, wondrous light, in her eyes went out, and she slumped to the ground.