~* Blood(ied) Lines *~

Okay but like, no matter what his girlfriend said, it wasn't all that big of a deal. It really wasn't. It wasn't even something he normally thought about; kind of like having elbows or something—they were always there, a permanent part of you, but you never actually thought about them except when you bashed one against the shield your half-brother made you at two in the morning when you accidentally hit it trying to get out of bed to pee (it had happened once or twice; not one of his prouder moments but hey, he couldn't always be saving the world, okay?). You cursed and were acutely aware of how much it hurt Styx it all for like all of an hour but then the pain faded and you promptly forgot they existed again.

It was like that, no matter how much Annabeth shouted at him. So the whole thing was one hundred percent not his fault and actually one hundred and ten percent Jason's fault.

Or maybe his grandparent's fault, depending on how you looked at it.

Or Poseidon's for not giving him actual genetic material.

Anyway: Sally could never remember why he'd gotten tested in the first place. Maybe it was Poseidon looking out for him all those years ago. Maybe it was dumb luck. He needed a blood test for one reason or another, and the doctor checked his iron level three times before concluding that no, there had been no mistake—Percy's iron levels were astronomically high.

Hemochromatosis, the doctor called it because gods know Percy could never pronounce it. Too much iron in the blood. Could cause a lot of nasty problems down the line (although, with the way Percy's life was going, the monsters would surely kill him before liver failure ever would, but Sally worried nonetheless). Short term, it explained his frequent fatigue. So good news, he wasn't lazy, he just had too much iron and could die early from liver and/or heart failure if not treated properly. Because these were major concerns when he was eight. (They still weren't now, frankly, because again, he was pretty sure he wasn't going to live that long.)

The treatment was simple enough, even if it did feel sort of archaic: bloodletting. ("TP," his nurse would always call it, like that somehow made it twenty-first century worthy.) And he only needed 'TP' every three months or so. Which was very convenient given that summer was only three months long and so he just got TP treatment before going to camp and again once he returned—although sometimes the events of the summer did lead to ahem, organic TP, aka getting run through by a sword, but hey it always worked out okay? Yes, maybe he should have told someone about it but what was the point? He thought he was going to die at sixteen, so no need to stop premature liver damage in that case, then Hera happened and they had to stop another war—look there were more important things on his mind okay?

Besides, it wasn't like he could just stop fighting monsters and protecting camp because he needed bloodletting, right? What was he supposed to say anyway: hey guys, there's too much iron in my blood and it's making me kinda sleepy and maybe damaging my liver, I'mma go let a doctor split open my veins, make sure nothing destroys camp while I'm away. Yeah, that wasn't happening.

But again, nothing would have happened if it weren't for Jason. Percy had been all set up to head home for the summer, say hi to his mom and Paul, maybe take Annabeth to that new museum she was dying to see, and go to his TP appointment. Then they were having a bit of a border problem; monsters lurking about, still not able to get through the barrier but annoying and kinda scaring some of the smaller demigods from going home. So, obviously, he had to help with that. Yes, he noticed his limbs felt heavier and yes, he noticed he grew fatigued more quickly but it was only a couple of weeks he would be fine.

So, naturally, that's when the cerastes attacked. They're not terrible as far as monsters go, cerastes. Certainly a walk in the park after battling titans, but they still didn't go down easily. They were giant snake-like creatures, so flexible Annabeth claimed they had no spines. What they did have, however, were four large satyr-like horns on top of their large ugly heads and could bend themselves into any shape imaginable.

They had whittled the pack down to only two cerastes (and a few hellhounds running amok but well, the cerastes were a bit more pressing of an issue). One of the last cerastes twisted itself into a circle, trying to ensnare Percy, who ducked under it quickly enough to avoid having his lungs crushed. Percy slid beneath the beast, Riptide at the ready. He managed to nick the creature, spinning himself around to get back on his feet and back to offense. The creature bent itself into an s-shape, twisting around to snap its powerful jaws at him. Percy arched Riptide before him, the cerastes bending back to avoid its deadly sting—which was right where Percy wanted it. He held his hand up, ready to call on his father's gift to shoot a jet of water at the beast to make it lose its balance so he could cut its stupid head off.

"Percy, get down!"

"What, no back off, Grace," Percy said, making a disgusted face as he felt the telltale pull from his gut then—

There was a terrible sound, like metal scraping against metal but higher and piercing—it set Percy's teeth on edge, his hair stood up straight. Percy blinked, realizing he had fallen to his knees, a metallic taste clogging the back of his throat and that terrible noise ringing in his ears. He blinked again, disorientated, watching with an almost detached disinterest as the snakelike body before him writhed then exploded in a shower of golden dust. That was all the time he had before a moment later—wham!

"Styx," Percy cursed as he was thrown backwards—again—his head slamming into the ground with enough force to make him see double for a minute, pinned to the ground by two plate-sized black paws.

"Oh get lost," Percy shouted crossly, or at least he tried to. His hearing was really messed up and was it one hellhound or two holding him down?

Percy screwed his face up, using leg strength to shove the creature (creatures?) off him enough to skewer it on the end of Riptide and, with a terrible cry, it dispersed in a golden cloud of dust.

"Ugh, sunlight," Percy complained, letting his heavy limbs fall to his side as he screwed his eyes shut against the offensive light.

"I told you to get down!"

"I told you to back off!" Percy snapped back, not opening his eyes as he felt Jason kneel down next to him. "I had it under control! Gods, what did you do, electrocute me?"

"You hit your head pretty hard—"

"You did, didn't you?" Percy accused as calloused fingers felt around his forehead, hissing when they found a tender spot.

"I think you have a concussion."

"Wait until I tell Annabeth you electrocuted me, she's going to murder you," Percy whined.

"Stop being such a baby, it wouldn't have even shocked you if you hadn't doused it in water."

"If you hadn't shocked it, my water would have knocked it over so I could cut its stupid head off!"

"Is he okay?"

That was Annabeth so Percy pried his eyes open and valiantly fought against the sun to gaze up at his beautiful girlfriend—only to promptly whine like a newborn hellhound because the sunlight hurt.

"Jason shocked me," Percy tattled, curling his face into his girlfriend's lap to block out the offensive light. She automatically cradled his head gently, already set to work on finding his injuries.

"He wouldn't move! And I think he's concussed."

"Percy, look at me," Annabeth demanded.

"But the light hurts," he grumbled, but he couldn't deny her anything so when she rolled him off her lap, he squinted up at her.

Annabeth leaned over her stupid boyfriend, the few stray strands of hair that had escaped her bun during the fight tickling his nose as she sharply assessed his injury. There was a scratch across her cheek and gold dust in her hair, but otherwise she looked fine.

"You're fine right?" he double checked anyway.

"Yes you idiot, now hold still." She frowned down at him, her fingers gently caressing the bump on the back of his head. "Follow my finger," she commanded, moving one finger back and forth before his eyes. He had to squint against the sun, his eyes watering a little, but he did as he was told.

"You have a concussion, but it's not bad. Hazel got a nasty gash, she's fine, don't get up, but we gave her all our ambrosia. But once we get back to camp, you'll be fine. We're going to let Hazel rest for a little before we start heading back. We should be back by nightfall. You'll be fine until then—just no sleeping," she told him sternly, reaching down to help him into a sitting position.

He whined but let her help him up. Jason sat on his knees beside them, a little battered but looking otherwise unharmed. He reached out to touch the back of Percy's head, but Percy swatted his hand away.

"What are you, five? I'm just trying to—"

"Everyone else okay?" Percy interrupted, batting Jason's hand away again as he tried to have a second go at it.

"Cuts and bruises, nothing major," Annabeth assured him, but she was frowning down at him, her hand traveling down to check out his legs. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Percy took a second to take stock, trying to ignore how Annabeth's scrutiny caused Jason to squint at him suspiciously too.

"No, I think I'm good."

"Debatable."

"Shut up, Jason."

"Both of you shut up," Annabeth refereed. She stared intently at Percy, her gray eyes narrow and analyzing. She leaned forward, brushing dirt from his hair.

She closed the distance between the two of them, gently kissing him. "Are you sure you're okay?" she murmured, her voice barely audible against his lips. "You were moving slower than usual."

Percy loved how well she knew him; he would rather get electrocuted ten times over before admitting weakness, especially in front of Jason. He kissed her back, quick and sweet.

"I'm fine," he promised, going for a roguish grin when she pulled away. He failed, miserably, if Jason's snicker or Annabeth's fond look of exasperation were anything to go by. Jerks, the both of them.

"Good," Annabeth said, pushing off Percy's knees to stand up. "A couple hellhounds escaped so we're going to track them down. Not you," she said sternly as Percy reached for Riptide, "you have a concussion and are going to stay here with Hazel and Frank, they're over there." She pointed. "And you," she jabbed a finger in Jason's direction, "are going to stay with them and keep them out of trouble until we get back."

"What?" Jason objected, "that's not fair, they can look over themselves, I'm more helpful—"

Annabeth crossed her arms, drawing herself up with tightly pursed lips of fury, it was all very terrifying and kind of hot, and Jason wisely shut up.

"You will stay here," Annabeth repeated firmly, one hand on her hip, the other on her knife. "Frank is helping Hazel, and frankly Percy will probably do something stupid if left unsupervised with a concussion."

"Hey—" Percy tried to object but Jason sighed and was nodding in agreement, which, rude—

"Yeah, alright, okay."

"Good. Get some rest," Annabeth instructed, "but don't sleep." She bent over to kiss his forehead before dashing off to where Leo and Piper waited.

"Come on then Percy, need any—?"

"Don't touch me—"

"You're an actual child, you know that?"

They bickered good naturally as they made their stumbling way over to Hazel and Frank. Percy's limbs refused to cooperate correctly so, coupled with his double vision, he ended up stumbling like Gabe used to after a weekend-long bender.

"Whoa there," Jason said when Percy stumbling into him for what had to be about the fourth time, his arm wrapping around the son of Poseidon's shoulder.

"Gods you're handsy, wait until I tell Annabeth."

"You're always threatening to run and tell your girlfriend instead of facing your own problems," Jason snorted, and sometimes Percy really honestly did love the guy because he said nothing as Percy leaned heavily on him, merely taking on the other demigod's weight and helping to drag him towards their friends.

"This feels like one she should know—and my girlfriend is terrifying, thank you very much, and I'm man enough to know she's a bigger threat than me when it comes to reigning people in. And Styx, Grace, at least take me on a date before you get so handsy."

"Nobody in their right mind wants to get handsy with you Jackson, don't flatter yourself—"

Percy knew he had a response to that—he was wittier and sassier than Jason any day—but his tongue felt like lead in his mouth and Jason was basically carrying him at this point and part of Percy's brain was flashing red, trying to remind him of something. Hazel smiled up at him as Jason helped Percy sit on the soft dirt next to her.

"You sure you're alright there, Percy?" Jason asked and Percy must really be out of it because Jason looked genuinely worried, leaning over Percy. He actually looked dangerously close to putting his hand on Percy's forehead.

"I have a concussion," Percy told Hazel in a faux whisper, leaning conspiratively close to the girl and the concussion must be really messing with him because he basically introduced his teeth to her shoulder.

Someone tried to straighten him out, but he wasn't sure if it was Jason or Frank or maybe even Hazel offended over how he probably slobbered over her shoulder.

"I'm fine," Percy said, then promptly threw up.

"I'm fine," he repeated as several hands tried to help him at once. Percy tried to bat them away but it was like someone had piled like three pairs of armor on him and moving was difficult.

"You don't—"

"It's just a concussion, leave me alone," Percy grumbled, and he maybe was leaning over and hey someone was helping him lie down, hopefully not in the pile of puke he just upchucked.

The three above him nattered away, their voices loud and grating against Percy's ears. Someone was patting his back, maybe more than one somebodies. He only caught snatches of the conversation going on over his head:

"—more ambrosia?"

"—gone, any water nearby—"

"—far is camp from—"

"—get Annabeth—"

"Nope," Percy said, his body shocking back to life at that last word. "'M fine, just a little concussion, no need to—"

He tried to push himself upright, but the memo seemed to get scrambled on the way from his brain to his limbs because he simply rolled onto his side, trying to squint up at his friends. Frank was down on one knee, one of his hands on the back of Percy's head, Jason hovering over them. The blur of color between their heads had to be Hazel. Well, at least she wasn't getting all overexcited. Gash wound, a voice reminded him. Oh yeah, he had forgotten.

"Go get Annabeth," Jason commanded Frank firmly. "He hit his head too hard, we need to get him back to camp."

"Dude, no—"

Neither of them was listening; Frank nodded, standing up to sprint off to where the smaller crew had disappeared in pursuit of the hellhounds.

"Hazel, tell them they're overreacting," Percy pleaded, and he wanted to turn to her but his stupid body wasn't listening anymore.

"I think you need ambrosia and to see a healer," Hazel disagreed, reaching out to gently pat Percy's shoulder.

"You all . . . suck," Percy grumbled, forcing his tongue to cooperate.

"I'm going to see if there's any water nearby we can dunk him in," Jason said. "Will you be okay?"

"We'll be fine," Hazel shooed. "I'm hardly invalid, the cut's all but healed you all overreacted anyway, go on I'll watch him."

"Don't need to be watched," Percy grumbled as Jason clanked off in search of water, apparently. Like, what was he going to do, throw Percy into the river and hope it cured his concussion . . . would that even work? Water healed his physical wounds but he'd never tried it on concussions.

"You need to be watched even without a concussion," Hazel snorted, but she was gently running her fingers through his hair, so he must really look like Hades.

"Alright, alright," Percy muttered and, with great effort, managed to push himself into a sitting position.

"Hey, hey, calm down—"

"'M fine, 'm fine," Percy fussed, pushing her grabby hands away as he struggled upright, leaning against the scratchy wood of a tree to keep himself upright.

His vision swum, the sunlight blinding, and two and a half Hazels leaned over him, managing to look both worried and annoyed.

"Can you listen for just once in your life?" Hazel demanded.

"Probably not."

That at least got a snort from the daughter of Pluto. "Don't go hitting your head so hard in the future, you can't spare the brain cells."

"Yeah, I know."

They sat in comfortable silence after that, Hazel watching the horizon for any sign of Frank and occasionally reaching out to pat his knee in what she clearly thought was a reassuring gesture. Percy, for the most part, tried simply to stay awake, which really shouldn't be as hard as it sounded. Weird fragments of conversation floated through his head, a stupid voice warning of danger. Which was obviously so stupid because the danger was gone, his body needed to calm down.

You were moving slower than usual.

Slower. Limbs not responding. Tired, very tired.

Di immortals.

Percy's eyes widened. Iron. His iron levels were too high! When was his next TP appointment supposed to be? Almost three weeks ago now? No wonder he was feeling so tired and moving was so hard! It wasn't just the concussion, it was the stupid iron. Percy wanted to bash his head against the tree. Stupid, so stupid! He let himself go too long without bloodletting and, Percy felt shame flood his chest, it started affecting his demigod life. Gods, what if he had been any slower? He could have gotten himself in serious trouble—or worse. The other campers depended on him, he couldn't afford to let himself get so fatigued. Gods, he could have gotten someone killed!

Panic crept into his veins, his heart pounding against his ribs. He could have gotten Annabeth hurt.

Di immortals, he needed the iron out. He could practically feel it running through his veins, fat and heavy, weighing him down like a thousand anchors and making him useless. Out, he needed it out. The panic sparked his cells to life, but even so, he could still feel how slow his stupid body reacted as he tried to shift, muscles refusing the work properly, the iron clogging his movement and gods, he needed it out, out, out.

Percy tried to pat himself over, searching for . . . for . . . he wasn't sure. Cursed iron! What did he need? A bloodletting kit, but that was at the hospital, so he would have to . . .

Percy fingered Riptide in his pocket. Open a vein. He could just open a vein and let a little blood out right? That would work. That's all the doctors did anyway, it was just bloodletting. He didn't need a fancy doctor's appointment or special equipment, he just needed to let some blood out. How much blood did the doc normally take out? A pint, unless his levels were really high, then it was one pint one week and another the next.

One pint. One pint, that wasn't a lot. A little cut, let some blood out and with it all that stupid, toxic iron that was slowing him down. Riptide, Riptide could cut him right? He'd never tried it before, but it worked on monsters and gods, and demigods were half gods so it should cut him just fine.

Mind made up, Percy took Riptide in hand and, hearing a noise, looked up. Hazel had her hand held up to her eyes, watching the horizon.

"I think I see them, I'm going to go meet them halfway okay?"

Percy hummed, not really listening. He didn't even watch her run off, focusing instead on uncapping Riptide. It took longer than it should to uncap the stupid sword and once it grew to full length in his hand, it felt too heavy and awkward. Styx, Riptide should never feel heavy to him, not his sword, gods that iron needed to come out, he needed to get it out and then everything would be okay—

Percy held Riptide awkwardly at an angle. The nurse always took blood from his elbow so that's where Percy aimed for. He held the sword sideways across his body, its tip far extending past his elbow but, eh, it was sharp everywhere so it didn't really matter. Gripping the hilt tight, Percy applied pressure on the prominent blue veins. If Percy didn't know better he'd say Riptide almost hesitated except that was stupid because it was a sword not a freaking living entity but the thought of resistance panicked him even more and he put all his weakened strength into pushing down, open up, come on!

Riptide sliced through his skin like it was nothing, a splash of red bubbling to the surface.

Percy could feel the clogging iron leave his body, panic spilling out of his veins alongside the blood. The blood ran from his veins like little rivers, snaking out along his forearm to drip onto the floor and Percy could finally relax. He heaved a sigh, letting his head fall back against the tree, Riptide falling listlessly from his fingers. The tension bled (ha) from his body, his eyes closing shut at the sweet release. No more danger, no more fatigue, no more uselessness.

He took a deep breath, waiting for the alarm to quit ringing in the back of his mind. It was over, the iron was coming out, his subconscious could shut up now. It didn't. Annoyed, Percy popped open one eye to look down at his arm, wondering if the sight would finally calm his stupid, overexcited mind. For a second, he thought something was wrong with his vision. There was . . . a lot of blood. Like, a lot of blood. Like, definitely more than a pint spilling over his arm, soaking into his pants. Percy reached out, that pesky danger instinct in the back of his mind flaring up again, this time telling him to wrap his opposite hand around his bicep to try and stem the bleeding, except his limbs were still reacting slowly and when he finally grabbed his bicep the bleeding still didn't stop.

This . . . wasn't good.

"Um, Hazel," Percy stammered, except Hazel wasn't there and blood was turning his pants red.

"Frank?

"Ja . . . son?"

He thought he heard someone calling his name. How far did they go? Percy opened his eyes, and then realized he never remembered closing them.

Realizing just how colossally he messed up, Percy mustered all his energy for one last ditched effort, opened his mouth and, praying the blond haired idiot hadn't wandered far, shouted at the top of his lungs: "Jason!"

The last thing Percy remembered seeing before everything went dark was a flash of blonde and praying feverously that it was Jason because Annabeth would kill him.

Coming to was like being hit in the face by a Minotaur. While being screamed at by his girlfriend. Wait . . . he was being screamed at by his girlfriend.

Percy gasped like said nonexistent Minotaur sucker punched him in the gut. And another, like he'd just been suffocated or something. His brain stuttered, everything weirdly fuzzy and distant, as if he were far underwater and trying to watch what people were doing on the surface above.

Fragments of Annabeth's screams reached his ears and . . . and he was pretty sure there were other sounds too and something licked his face, which was weird, and licked his mouth—oh that was water, water was lapping against his face and into his open mouth, he should probably shut it but he was too busy trying to drag in oxygen.

"Wha—?"

"—idiot, you thrice da—"

Percy squinted up at Annabeth's face. Her hair was wet, strands sticking to her face, and ew one was in her mouth that had to be gross. Was that . . . were there tears on her face? No don't cry, Percy thought, I'm sorry, whatever I did, I'm sorry.

He reached out to wipe her tears and pull the hair from her mouth but his body wouldn't respond. Waves lapped up against Annabeth's shoulders and Percy distantly realized she was in the water too. Actually, she appeared to be holding him and, oh, hands, there were hands touching him but they couldn't be Annabeth's because Annabeth was holding him, this was strange—

"—were you thinking?!"

Annabeth's voice was raw and it took Percy's attention away from the contemplation of his strange situation because it suddenly didn't matter. Nothing mattered when Annabeth sounded so utterly gutted and Percy focused all his attention on her, forcing his uncooperative limbs to move. He tore his arm away from whoever was holding it and tried to reach out so he could cup her face. His limbs weren't working right though so he settled on trying to make reassuring sounds.

"S'k, s'okay," Percy pushed the words out through a heavy tongue.

"Idiot, idiot!" she half screamed, half sobbed, curling him against her chest and holding him fast.

Her entire body shook from the force of her sobs and Percy tried to move, tried to find out what was causing her such terrible distress because it needed to stop, he needed to stop it, oh gods what had upset her so much, who dared make his Wise Girl sound so broken? He was going to drown whoever it was.

She buried her face against his, sobbing uncontrollably, her grip painfully tight.

"—not bleeding anymore, he's not—"

Bleeding? Who was bleeding? Percy dismissed the stray thought, filing the information away for later as he cooed at Annabeth, trying to break free enough to look her in the face and figure out what was wrong.

"—concious, he's moving—"

"—ercy, can you hear—"

"Annabeth," Percy coughed out, raising his voice to be heard through all the noise. "Annabeth what's wrong? What's—what can I do?"

"You—you—" she sobbed against his hair, and then she blessedly pulled back, her eyes hungrily searching his face.

"You idiot, you utter—" she screamed, pounding on his chest with one hand, the other still gently supporting his head.

The air left Percy's lungs again, not expecting the sudden assault.

"Wha—" he wheezed, not understanding and someone else was grabbing Annabeth's arm—was that Jason?—and she was still screaming.

"How could you—? How dare you—! To me, how dare you do this to me—" Annabeth was screaming.

Nothing made any sense but awareness was slowly started to creep back. He was definitely in a river, cradled in his girlfriend's lap, with what appeared to be Jason by his feet and Hazel by his head. Jason had detained the hand Annabeth used to hit Percy and she was desperately trying to free it, screaming like a woman possessed.

"What is going on?" Percy demanded, his strength building the longer he laid submerged in the water. He was half tempted to try and sit up but something told him a few more minutes in the water would have him back at full strength (courtesy of his father, thank you Poseidon).

"You died," Annabeth screamed, and it was her shattered, broken voice that shook Percy to his core, not her words. "You died, you asshole, you died."

"What?" Percy didn't understand.

"Your heart wasn't beating, it wasn't beating—"

"Wait," Percy's head spun as he tried to piece everything together.

What had he been doing? There were monsters at the border, he remembered that. Cerastes, they were cerastes and, and there were only two left—no, none left. They killed them all and he was arguing with Jason but something was wrong, his head, he hit his head. He had a concussion? Yeah, yeah he had a concussion but those didn't stop your heart right? No that wasn't it. He was tired, he was talking to Hazel, his limbs were not moving right—slow. He had been moving too slow. Iron. Percy's eyes widen.

"Oh," he said, remembering what he had done. "Oh no."

Annabeth's eyes burned brighter than any of Hephaestus's forges. "Oh no?" she mimicked, her voice higher and more dangerous than he'd ever heard before. "Oh no? You sliced open your brachial artery and lost so much blood your heart stopped, and all you have to say is oh no?"

Sliced open an artery? Styx did he mess up. "I didn't mean to—"

"Oh, so you accidentally slit your arm with your own sword?"

"Well, I mean, I meant to draw some blood but not—?"

Annabeth looked like he'd slapped her.

"No, nonono, not like that, not like—"

"Why?" Annabeth demanded, shaking him with her free hand.

Jason was staring down at Percy too, his face deathly pale and Percy noticed for the first time that his neck and shirt were covered in blood. Percy's blood. Jason's distraction was enough that Annabeth was able to tear her hand free from his grasp, coming around not to hit Percy like the son of Poseidon expected, but to fist in Percy's shirt instead as she sobbed.

"Why? Why would you hurt—would you hurt—"

"I wasn't trying to hurt myself, Annabeth, please, hey stop that, stop crying please, I'm sorry, I wasn't, I really wasn't," Percy tried desperately. He shifted, trying to rise up to wrap his arms around her but Annabeth turned from clutching at him to all but shoving him underwater and—to Percy's surprise—Hazel had done the same.

His head dunked briefly under the water before he forced it back up, bewildered.

"—his heart stopped, I don't know how Poseidon's magic works, this isn't the ocean, stay Percy," Hazel was saying firmly. "Stay down and in the water."

"Okay, okay," Percy placated, reaching over and gently wrapping his hand around Annabeth's wrist, which laid submerged under the water atop his chest. She tensed, looking ready to dunk him under again.

"They're still under the water, look see, still under the water," Percy soothed, rubbing his thumb calmingly back and forth on her wrist.

"I wasn't though, Annabeth, please, believe me—I have this—" Percy wrecked his brain for the name. Hephaestus? No that was the god. Ugh, come on useless brain, think, think, think. "This condition, I can't remember what it's called. But too much iron, there's too much iron in my blood and, and, to lower the iron level you need to let some blood out of your body and that's the honest to Poseidon truth, I'm not making that up, the doctors they call it TP, which stands for something—I can't remember what." Someone tried to interrupt him but the dam had been broken and there was no stopping him now. Words spilled past his lips like the blood had over his arm and there was no stopping the babbling.

"But normally the doctors, they do TP and let some of my blood out and I'm fine, iron levels back to normal, but if they don't if they get too high . . . . Like today, today they were too high because I haven't gotten TP in a while and when your body has too much iron, you get stupid and slow and tired real fast and, and I was! You saw that, you said something, and I don't know. I had a concussion! I wasn't thinking clearly, all I could think about was how there was too much iron in my blood and it was making me slow and that was bad, I could have gotten someone hurt, I could have gotten you hurt and I just remember thinking I needed to get it out so that wouldn't happen and I swear I just wasn't thinking straight.

"I just had to get it out, and the only way my concussed mind figured to do that was to take Riptide and make a small cut. I swear I only meant to make a small cut and, and the nurses, they always do it at the elbow so that's where I went and—and I didn't even know I could hit an artery, does it look like I know where my arteries are? I just . . . I just wanted the iron out, that's all. I wasn't—I'd never try to hurt myself, Annabeth, please believe me. How could I, Wise girl come on, how could I ever do that to you?" Percy pleaded, trying to reach up for her, but she held him down fast, tears silently falling down her face.

"A . . . a medical condition?" Annabeth said, shaking.

Someone must have taken pity on him because the name struck him then, rolling off his tongue as though he'd been saying it his whole life (he hadn't, he really, really hadn't but maybe he should start for moments like this): "Haemochromatosis."

"Haemochromatosis," Annabeth repeated.

"Yes, too much iron."

"And to release the iron . . ."

"Bloodletting," Percy repeated eagerly. "Hey, hey Wise Girl, come on, look at me, yeah? Really look at me."

Annabeth sniffled a little but complied, staring down at him, into his very soul, with her beautiful, hurting eyes.

"Hey, I fell through Tartarus for you," he reminded her softly. "I'm not leaving you. I'm not leaving you, Wise Girl. I'm just really, really stupid."

That startled a snort from Annabeth and her lips gave an involuntary twitch. "You really, really are," she agreed, the sound scratchy and uneven from all the crying and screaming; Percy's heart panged with guilt.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, wanting nothing more than to reach up and cup her tear streaked cheeks. "I'm so, so sorry."

"You should be," to her credit, Annabeth's voice barely waivered this time. "Because you're going to spend the next eternity making it up to me."

"Of course," Percy agreed gently and she finally leaned down, pressing her wet forehead to his. Her grip on him was still painfully tight, but he certainly wasn't about to complain as he pressed little kisses to any part of her he could reach, muttering nonsense and apologies.

They sat like that for a while, Annabeth's heartbeat slowly calming down, Hazel tentatively reaching out after what could have been a few minutes or a few hours to card through Percy's hair. The rest of the seven slowly appeared around them as they evidently decided they had given Annabeth enough space. Jason was definitely at Percy's feet, one calloused hand resting on his knee, Piper sitting on his lap at the bottom of the muddy river bed, her hand on top of his. Frank cast a shadow over them all, his chin resting atop Hazel's head and Leo managed to squeeze between the pair and the river bank, periodically reaching out to touch Percy, as if he half expected Percy to disappear.

"So, ah," Percy asked after a while. "What exactly happened?"

"You scared the Hades out of us," Annabeth crossly reminded him.

"Well . . . yes, I'm sorry but I mean—"

"I heard you shout," Jason interrupted. "Thought we were under attack again but instead found your stupid self barely conscious in a pool of blood." He paused. "Scared me to death I thought you were already dead. By the time Annabeth reached us, we couldn't even find a heartbeat."

Percy winced and it had nothing to do with Annabeth's fingernails digging into his skin.

"I'm sorry," he repeated softly.

"But I had managed to find a river and we thought if we could just get you there maybe . . . " Jason trailed off and Percy, feeling guiltier than ever, realized that the son of Jupiter turned a ghostly pale, swallowing hard.

"Jason and Frank carried you," Leo piped up. "Like a rag doll and then threw you into the river. Literally threw you."

"He was dying we didn't have time to be gentle."

"Oh," Percy said, blinking. That was kind of humiliating.

"Your fault," Annabeth grumbled in reminder.

"I was concussed," Percy tried to appeal. "And you did tell Jason I would do something stupid so really it's his fault for leaving me unsupervised."

"What, no I left you with—"

Jason cut himself off as Hazel drew in a shaky breath. Percy quickly plowed forward, unwilling to let Hazel even think about letting herself be responsible for his colossal stupidity.

"Well, I wouldn't even have had a concussion if Jason hadn't electrocuted me."

"I told you to get down, it's not my fault you can't listen! Piper back me up here—"

"Hey," Percy said softly as Jason blessedly distracted everyone with his loud nonsense.

Annabeth grunted in response, petting his hair.

"I'm okay now, it's okay," he whispered.

"You better be or I'll kill you myself," was her reply.

"That's my girl."

They wouldn't let him get out of the river until long after the sun set, even after he repeatedly assured them he was one hundred percent fine. He couldn't really complain though, he had given them the scare of a lifetime. The others headed back towards camp while Annabeth firmly dragged Percy off to New York, insisting on having a doctor check him out. Percy didn't object to that either; instead, he told her that she should come along and talk to the doctors herself, knowing that she would feel a thousand times better after getting all the facts.

"They won't tell anyone right?" Percy asked nervously as the rest of the seven headed off. He got a gentle knock to the head for the stupid question.

"Just Chiron."

"Ah man, do we have to tell—"

"Yes."

And well, he couldn't argue with such a gentle punishment so he shut his mouth. She sat on the cheap plastic chairs at the doctor's office, demanding all the paperwork they had on his condition, watching carefully and asking like a million questions as they drew half a pint of blood, just in case.

"His iron levels are at an all-time low," the doctor said approvingly and Percy abashedly avoided looking Annabeth's way.

"I have something for you," Annabeth announced, sitting on his bed later that night.

"Oh?" Percy asked warily, wondering if, now that he wasn't dying, she was going to deck him for putting her through that terrible ordeal.

Instead, she put a small white kit before him, a little red cross in the middle. Percy's brow furrowed as she flipped it open, revealing a small pouch, some sterilizing liquid, an empty, clear blood bag and some tubing.

"It was meant to be a diabetes kit, I just changed some things out with medical supplies from the store," Annabeth explained, opening the pouch to show him about a dozen sterile needles inside. "If anything like this ever happens again and for some demigod emergency reason we can't get you to a real doctor, we can take care of it safely."

She looked at him sternly, lips pressed together. "You are not allowed to do anything; no stupid cutting open appendages or not telling anyone you're feeling abnormally fatigued. You tell me and I handle it. If I can't get you to a real doctor to perform TP, then I will resort to this. My stepmom has a friend who's a nurse and she's going to teach me how to draw blood so I can safely use this equipment in the future if you need it."

Percy stared at her in amazement. Annabeth crossed her arms, staring at him down the end of her nose like she was ready for battle and Percy could only stare at her in amazement, wondering how on earth he had ever gotten so lucky. She had every right to be angry, to punish him severely or never trust him again, but she goes and does this instead.

"Got it?" she demanded.

"Yes, ma'am," Percy agreed in wonder.

She blinked. "I half expected you to fight me on it."

"Hard to fight when you're doing it all for me," Percy admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "And I did do something really, really stupid."

"You did," she agreed wryly, but her mouth gently curved at the corners.

"Stop staring at me like that," she added.

"Like what? Like you're the most amazing thing ever, 'cause I can't help that, it's your fault for being so awesome."

She snorted, rolling her eyes as she packed the medical supplies back in their container. "If you think flattery is going to make me forgive you any faster for that stunt you pulled, forget it."

"No, I'm being honest, no trickery. You know, my girlfriend saved the world twice, she is fierce and terrifying and amazing and powerful and beautiful and instead of murdering her stupid boyfriend she went out of her way to learn how to draw his blood instead of leaving his sorry behind like she probably should have."

"Seaweed Brain," she tried to deflect, but he could see her smiling. "I put too much work into keeping you alive to let you die on me now." She reached over, putting the medkit on his nightstand. "Besides, I don't know if you've heard but when my boyfriend's not being an idiot, he's kinda amazing himself."

"He is, isn't he?"

"Don't push it," Annabeth warned, closing the distance between them and shutting him up effectively with a kiss.

A/n Hemochromatosis is a real genetic disorder and the real treatment is bloodletting, officially called Therapeutic Phlebotomy or TP. All my medical knowledge comes from Wikipedia and WedMD so forgive any errors. Percy only nicked the artery like Jason said, hence why he didn't bleed out immediately. All the props go to my amazing beta rhig122 who shamelessly encouraged this silly idea once it got stuck in my head.

Please let me know what you think and, as always, I hope you enjoyed ~ *