Partially a huge 'f u' at people who make fun of others for being scared (fear is natural amigos) and partially praise to one of my favourite PJO characters. The statistics are all real and from "Live Science: What Really Scares People: Top 10 Phobias" by Jeanna Bryner and "Statistics Brain: Fear/Phobia Statistics". There's an alternative version of this story starring Reyna which is empowering, but I feel like the tragedy of fearlessness needs to be emphasised. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own the following characters.

Fearless

60% of all things feared never take place.

30% of things feared are in the past, and can never be changed.

Women are four times as likely to be scared of arachnids than men.

68% of Americans are necrophobic; scared of death.

Around fifteen million American adults are scared of public speaking.

88% of fears related to health will not happen.

The fear of snakes was probably developed as a survival instinct and is imprinted in mankind.

6.3 million Americans have a diagnosed phobia- a real mental disorder, not just a big fear.

Only 2.2% of the USA's population is agoraphobic- scared of open spaces.

1 woman is fearless.

Deimos nearly dropped the reports.

"Are you sure?" He asked Achlys.

She huffed, wrinkling her nose. The bloodstains on her cheeks, contrasting heavily with her pale complexion, crinkled.

"I am the demon of misery," she said. "Of course I'm sure of how miserable and terrified the people are."

Deimos glanced at the list again and smacked it.

"One woman?" He asked, stunned. "One woman is absolutely fearless? You're sure?"

"Well that's what's written down, now isn't it?" Achlys said impatiently. Patient demons were far, few between and usually lying about it. "I'm just the messenger. It's not my fault that you and your brother left a loophole- you can take it up with him. Now if you'll excuse me…"

The demon disappeared and so did Deimos, only to reappear next to his brother outside a community center. He was dropping plastic spiders outside the door, which was plastered with posters for an arachnophobia support group meeting.

"We have a problem," Deimos said.

"I know. I'm almost out of spiders," Phobos replied not even turning around. Deimos waved his hand and made the dummy critters disappear.

"Hey!" Phobos asked spinning around to shoot him a murderous look that was too familiar to even be uncanny.

"Never mind that," Deimos said. "We have an emergency."

Phobos looked at the list for a second, only to look up to Deimos in confusion.

"I've taken the liberty to pinpoint our problem," Deimos said. "We're going on a trip."

They weren't expecting their mark to be lying in a hospital bed, wrapped in an old baby blanket that must have been brought from home. Her finger marked her page in a book that looked too heavy for her to hold up. Perhaps that was why she wasn't reading.

She looked up and seemed to know who they were, though Phobos would have sworn that her eyes were too tired and old to see. They were certainly wrinkled, however the woman hadn't seemed to age poorly. She just looked sick.

"Why are you here?" She asked.

"Can you read?"

"Thank goodness," she nodded. Her hair was the colour of snow, and it fell around her face- long and crinkled for an older woman.

"Read this," Deimos said handing her the list. She took it from him with a shaking hand adorned with protruding veins. They gave her a long time to struggle through the list.

"You think that I am your problem?"

"Yes," Deimos said. "We're actually sure of it. Why, though? Why? You must be scared of something. A woman like you… Aren't you scared for someone? For yourself? For something?"

"Not that I can think of," she confessed. "No."

"There must be something," Phobos said. "Are you claustrophobic?"

"I live in New York."

"Arachnophobic?"

"Spiders are simply another creature in the world," she shrugged. "Besides, Arachne died a long time ago."

"What about snakes?"

"My niece owned a snake. They're just animals."

"Dogs?"

"My parents had one when I was young."

"Birds?"

"Why would I be afraid of birds?"

"No reason, you just would be," Phobos said. "That's how a phobia works. Aren't you scared of something happening to your husband?"

"He died a long time ago," she flinched. "He was sick. One day, out of nowhere he just crumbled. It was terrifying, but I barely remember it now. I can barely recall anything if I try. That takes the tragedy out."

"To a lover, then?" Phobos pressed on.

"There hasn't been anyone else," she said quietly. "Not since him."

"Are you scared of illness?"

"I am ill," she said. "Quite ill."

"Are you scared of not being able to read?" Phobos asked calling back on her earlier concern and the book in her hand.

"I don't read anymore. I forget what happened in the last page constantly. I had to put a book down because I forgot who Harry was."

"Potter?"

"Yes, that's the one. Harry Potter… You can't even imagine how difficult Shakespeare has become. Or worst, Tolkien." She said.

"Are you scared of those books being burned? Of knowledge being lost? Of the world falling to a regime like the Nazi party again?" Phobos asked her. She looked like a free thinker gone wrong, one who'd want to keep everything steady.

"They wouldn't be, the world is a much better place than it was."

"Are you scared of strangers?"

"No."

"Not even of sketchy, dark strangers? Strangers that could do anything they liked to you?"

"What could they do to me?" She asked plainly.

"Goddamn, woman, can't you feel pain?" Deimos gnarled.

"I've already felt pain," she said. "Nothing would be new. Besides, nobody hurts an old woman."

"What about getting hurt by someone close to you?" Deimos asked.

"Like a lover? A parent? A guardian? Their loss?" She asked. It sounded more like a list than a question.

"What about blood, do you mind blood?"

"I'm not overly fond, but I'm not scared, no."

"What about pain in others?"

"I know of no others anymore. I've lived too long. Too long, I don't know anyone anymore."

"Are you scared of loneliness?"

"No, I am lonely. You can't be scared of what you are. That would be like you being afraid of yourself," she said. "Yes, I see through the mist. I know who you are."

"What about your children? Don't you have any to be worried about?"

Her voice caught in her throat. "No."

"Any other child you care about?"

"Dead, lost, forgotten," she said. "Heaven knows where they all are today."

"Do you even have children?" Phobos snapped, frustrated.

"Yes, I did." She snapped right back. "I had a son. He was seventeen years old when he died. I had to fight to bring him into this world with a few thousand people, and I had to fight the entire world to keep him in it. But he died. I hadn't seen him in months and he died right in my arms. The gods brought me to the scene, so that I'd be there. He was a mess of blood and strands of flesh. But more importantly he was mine, and I hadn't fought hard enough."

Chills hiked up Phobos' spine.

"What is your name, woman?" He asked.

"Sally Jackson," she said.

"You're a mortal," Deimos said. "A defenseless mortal who sees monsters and gods- how are you not terrified?"

"H.P. Lovecraft said it. 'The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown'. But everything's happened to me. I've lost everything, been through every circle of hell, seen all the monsters in the world. I've learned not to be afraid."

Phobos' chills didn't stop there.

"You don't even fear death anymore?" Phobos asked curious. Fear of death wasn't their area of expertise- it was Hades'. But Phobos was checking all the loose threads, ready to grab any possible conclusion.

"Death means Hades," Sally said. "Hades is where my family is. Where I'll see my husband for the first time in years. Most of the children I adopted over time are there now. Where I'll meet the parents who died when I was nearly too young to remember. Where I'll meet the uncle who stopped me from believing in myself and wave my degree and life story in his face. Hades is where my son will be and where I'll hold him, warm and healthy and absolutely safe for the first time. Hades is happiness by my standards."

They were all quiet.

"What if we made you immortal, Sally Jackson? Would that scare you?" Deimos said quietly.

"It wouldn't scare me. I already feel like time is stretching on and on. It would be the death of me," Sally said. "The death of me for eternity."

Phobos and Deimos looked at each other over and over. Never had this happened before. Never had they abused their power of fear so much that the novelty had worn off and that the power had been stripped. Never.

"Why?" Sally Jackson asked. "Why do you even care about whether or not your realm touches me? Did it give you a scare to see a name on the list? The name of someone who has simply stopped?"