The war had taken its toll.

Perhaps that was an understatement. The previously busting-at-the-seems Camp Half Blood was now barren of its very essence. Holes littered the ground where Gaia had destroyed the earth; the air still smelled of smoke from the recently burned shrouds. And camp didn't even hold a candle to the state that Greece had been left in.

Delos had gone down in bright red, vengeful flames. Crete suffered through the most violent earthquakes and tsunami-sized waves it had ever encountered. They held Sparta (Ares would never let his city fail him), but Delphi crumbled. Athens, likewise, was not so lucky. Athena was much too practical to save her patron city when she knew that Olympia was of greater importance. It was almost complete luck that the Parthenon remained standing at all.

Despite it all, the earth was still spinning, and Olympus remained above the Empire State Building. The world was burnt, scratched, torn, cut, and left bleeding, but still they carried on.

It rained for days, even in camp.

No one in the Athena cabin—rather, what was left of the cabin—questioned Annabeth's absence when night fell on their first day back to normalcy. Her empty bed looked the same as it had from just before she'd left on the Argo II. Papers and blueprints were scattered all across her mattress, as if sleeping was no longer the priority. The bed simply screamed that it belonged to their leader, and yet it sat vacant.

They didn't say this to Chiron, although they wouldn't be surprised if he already knew it to be true.

Ω

Percy was sitting on his bed with his back against the wall thinking when he heard it. The door to cabin three—slightly charred from the war but still functional—creaked as it opened and closed again. The fact that no visible person had entered didn't surprise him anymore.

He followed the wet shoe marks across the floor until he was standing at the window, peering straight through Annabeth's invisible form and into the downpour just outside the glass. Instead of questioning her appearance, he simply wrapped his arm around her torso—effectively pressing his self against her back—and sent her Yankees cap tumbling to the ground.

Her posture was rigid and she took no notice of the boy holding her, but instead continued to stare out into the darkness the enveloped the sky. The moon was barely visible, no more than a crescent. It was a fraction of itself, just like the two people watching it.

They were fractions, really. It was much harder to stay strong the second time through. The deaths, the chaos . . .

The loss. So many lost that they could've saved. So many innocent civilians that couldn't escape in time. So many young campers that hadn't had time to hone their skills in training. So many demigods who had survived the Titan War, only to have everything taken from them just when the world should've been safe.

They didn't deserve it.

The battlefield had been littered with the bodies of children. Everyone had innocent blood staining their hands.

Everyone was broken now.

Percy gingerly rested his chin on Annabeth's shoulder and tightened his hold around her waist.

"Beautiful night," he whispered. His breath grazed her ear and sent shivers down her spine.

She didn't move, but simply closed her eyes and quietly murmured, "I wish it wasn't."

He placed a kiss on her shoulder before replying. "It feels wrong, doesn't it? Nothing should be beautiful after so much suffering."

She still stood stiff and silent, so he continued.

"Sometimes I wish the world would mourn with us; no beauty, no happiness. It seems like the universe has simply forgotten about everyone we've lost already."

Tentatively, Annabeth nodded. "I don't want to forget, Percy. I don't think I can."

"No one will blame you if you don't," he replied in their whispered tones. He took one of her hands in his own, interlocking their scarred and calloused fingers. They continued staring out into the rain until he broke the eerie silence. "I know I'll never forget. I've never seen so much blood before. Sometimes . . . well, sometimes I feel like it's my fault. I could've saved them if only I had been stronger or smarter, and I should've tried everything to keep them safe. And maybe I might've saved them had it played out differently, but the Fates . . ."

"They . . ." Her voice broke, and she sounded—for the first time—so helpless and young. "They didn't deserve to die. Frank, Gwen, Travis, Clarisse, Piper, Malcolm . . . Malcolm was applying to Harvard in the fall. He was waiting to hear back about a scholarship he applied for, and everyday he bugged me about helping to proofread his essays. I . . . I never had time to, but they're all still sitting on my bed, waiting for me."

One solitary tear made a path down Annabeth's cheek, and Percy squeezed her hand, allowing her to continue.

"And no one can even mention little Tessa without crying anymore! She was the light in the darkness for our cabin. She was so optimistic about everything, even though she knew that we were training for war. Tess kept us smiling. How could the Fates let her die? She was . . . she was only eight." Her voice crumbled as another tear streaked down her face.

"Annabeth, Tessa died with Piper trying to save Thalia. She knew what she was doing; you trained her to be brave. They will make her happy in Elysium."

Annabeth hesitated. "I just wish she could've had a future," she mumbled. "Tessa always wanted to grow up and have a family. She used to tell me about her dream husband and all of her future children's names. I just wish she could've gotten the chance . . ."

Percy moved Annabeth's cascade of curls to the side and placed a kiss to the back of her neck before whispering, "I know. I know, Annabeth. They all deserved futures. I wish they could be here with us, but I know for a fact that they don't wish we were with them. They would want us to go on living. We can mourn, but we can't let ourselves die alongside of them. They wouldn't want us to waste our lives when life is so precious."

"It's just that . . . I feel a little dead, Percy. Part of me is missing. Every time I think I've forgotten for a second, I picture their faces. It doesn't seem real; they can't really be gone." She spun around, turning to face him. He placed his hands on her waist and rubbed comforting circles on her skin with his thumbs.

Her eyes glistened, and her voice shook when she finally managed to choke out her fears. "What if you die, Percy? What will I do then? You . . . you're all I have left."

Percy didn't even hesitate before pulling her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest with his hand. He ran his fingers gently through her hair and pressed his lips to the crown of her head.

"I'm not going anywhere, Annabeth. If they try to separate us, they are going to have one hell of a fight on their hands. I don't intend on ever letting you go. It's my job to protect you."

"It's our job to protect each other," she corrected. Her words were muffled by his shirt.

"Exactly. And since I have no intentions of ever letting my beautiful and intelligent girlfriend go, you're sort of stuck with me for a long, long time."

She looked up at him with her big, watery eyes. "How long will that be?" She placed her hands on his strong chest and fisted the cotton material, almost as if she was afraid he might suddenly dissolve into ash—leaving her completely alone.

"Hm . . ." he said thoughtfully. "I suppose forever as long as you can handle being around me for that long." He smiled at her. "It must be challenging to live with a Seaweed Brain for eternity, but I've learned to never bet against you."

She sighed into his shoulder and allowed her arms to wrap around his neck. "You aren't nearly as annoying as you give yourself credit for."

"Does this mean I've finally grown out of the nickname? I think two wars fought and won clearly shows that I'm not as stupid as we all once thought!"

"You were never stupid, per se. I suppose 'dense' is a better word. Besides, you'll always be my Seaweed Brain."

"Even if I was to graduate from college as the valedictorian?" He sounded so completely serious that she had to laugh, which caused his face to break out into a wide smile. He took this opportunity to wipe away the leftover tears on her cheeks and run the pads of his fingers along her jaw line.

"Even then," she said with a laugh. Just as quickly as the happiness came, though, it left. "I don't . . ." –she swallowed– "I don't want to sleep in my cabin tonight. I can't face all the empty beds just yet."

"You will have to see them eventually," he reasoned.

"I know, but I don't want to remember all the death tonight. I need to . . . I guess I just need to remind myself that there is still life out there." She knotted her calloused fingers into his raven hair, as if to prove her point.
He rested his lips against her temple and whispered softly into her delicate skin. "Then stay with me tonight." His index finger ran along the length of her arm before clasping her hand tightly within his own. The hand on the small of her back rubbed soothing circles into her shirt. His voice quieted even more, until it was husky and beautiful and nearly nonexistent. "Let me fight away your nightmares."

She wanted to chide him on playing the hero card too many times; after all, she wasn't your typical damsel in distress. Somehow, though, she felt too at peace to muster a snarky comment. His voice was a relaxing hum: soft, low, and gentle. His body against hers was warm and safe, and his constant heartbeat under her hand was both methodic and relieving.

"This is my favorite thing," she said with a sigh.

"What is?"

"This," she said, pressing her hand tighter to his chest. "Your heartbeat. When we were in Tartarus," she whispered, her eyes glazing over, "it was the only thing that kept me sane. It was so hard to remember that we weren't dead, that there was still reason to fight. Mine always seemed to be echoing in my head, too loudly, too painfully. But yours , , ,"

Her eyes filled with tears again.

"Shh," he cooed. "Its okay, Annabeth. We're together. We're together, and we will get through this, because that is what we do."

She nodded, resting her forehead in the crook of his neck. Breathing in his scent. Letting tears fall on his shoulder.

He was here.

They were together.

Ω

The rain was still tapping against the roof when Percy heard the whimpers. Groggily, he opened his eyes and saw his girlfriend nestled against his body, clinging to his body like a life preserver.

She didn't cry out, but her quiet sobs were perhaps even more disturbing to him, He knew what it felt like to be paralyzed with fear in a dream; he was familiar with these noises.

"Annabeth," he whispered, nudging her awake.

Her body stiffened for a moment, relaxing only when his voice and his smell and his touch and everything about him that was so undeniably Percy calmed her frayed mind.

"I love you." Her words floated through the cabin, somewhere between a statement and a promise.

"I love you too." Percy pulled her closer, not necessarily to comfort her, but to settle his own peace of mind. Sometimes, he still woke up in a panic, screaming her name in fear that she had been taken away from him.

"I love you," she said again. "Just . . . promise you'll come back to me."

Confused green eyes locked on her misty grey pair. "I'm not going anywhere, Annabeth."

"Percy," she warned.

"I'm not going anywhere. You're not getting away from me again, even if it means I have to handcuff us together."

She nodded, accepting his answer. "I'll come back to you too." She yawned. Before she drifted off again, she whispered, "Just hold me."

He did.