Building the ship takes longer than Annabeth has time for. She draws the plans up in a feverish month and fully expects the boat to be completed in a couple days.

The Hephaestus cabin has other plans, however. After a full three months of work, the mere skeleton of a hull has been crafted.

"Annabeth, of all people, I thought you'd see reason here," Chiron says softly after bringing her aside. She has just chewed out a couple of the younger Hephaestus kids, and she isn't sorry for it. "They need time. We can't demand more than their best." He gives her a timid pat on the shoulder.

"The ship will be done soon," he says at last with finality. "Perhaps there are other things you can do to… distract you, until that time?"

"I don't need a distraction," she tells him. "I need a ship."

They make contact with the other camp, surprisingly, through a third party: that is, through the Hunters of Artemis. Thalia Iris messages Annabeth to tell her that Percy is alive and well, and that he is blissfully oblivious to the live he once lead. Thalia tells Annabeth that he seems different: harder, suppressed, more diligent. Annabeth off-handedly remarks that it's hard to consider Percy diligent, and then she remembers the way he acted during the Titan war.

A small oh escapes her lips.

"They're making preparations to leave the castra," Thalia tells her softly, trying to convey a mourning tone while also telling her valuable information. "They'll be at Camp Half-Blood in two months. You should be… prepared. For all of them."

Annabeth blanches. "What do you mean, all of them?"

Thalia's mouth is a hard line when she answers. "Why do you think it'll take them such a long time to make their way across the country? They're taking the whole camp. They march as one giant phalanx, Annabeth. No one gets left behind."

Annabeth's mid flashes to Luke Castellan's face: bloodied in the heat of battle, a sad smile on his face, a sword buried to the hilt in his left side beneath his arm. We leave people behind. She looks to Thalia and can see a similar look of agony on the immortal girl's face.

"I know," the daughter of Zeus sighs. "Sometimes I think they do things better over there, too."

"I wasn't going to say that," Annabeth says defensively. "I was going to say—I miss him."

"Seems like you spend a lot of your life doing that," Thalia says with a strange tone in her voice. "The Hunters don't have to wait for much. We're do-ers—we act."

Thalia hangs up the Iris message before Annabeth can answer. Annabeth walks toward the Big House to give Chiron the deadline with a heavy heart.

She moves into the Poseidon cabin for two reasons: to keep herself from focusing on how long the ship was taking to build, and to remind herself daily of the man she has lost.

She doesn't take much with her—a few books, her knives, a picture of her and Percy sitting on the beach, a picture of her dad. It's not a lot, but it's more than what should fit in one person's arms. Still, she manages to get halfway across the quad without attracting too much attention before something shifts uncertainly—a large book (Annabeth believes it is her copy of the Iliad) tips over from its place at the precipice of her book-stack—and everything she's carrying comes crashing down.

She's cursing profusely when a tanned hand reaches down in her periphery, picking up a couple of old photos and the aforementionedIliad. She up and sees the hero she's not looking for.

"Thanks, Jason," she says weakly, holding out an already occupied hand.

"Nonsense," he says with a smile that could probably blind Apollo himself. "Where you headed?"

They walk to Cabin Three in an uncomfortable silence: Annabeth knew that Jason wouldn't turn her in—but still, the fact that anyoneknew she was moving cabins set her on edge.

"I'd do the same," Jason tells her as they walk toward the cabin. "Move in here, I mean." Annabeth doesn't respond until they reach the front door.

"Don't tell anyone," she says in what she wants to be a commanding voice, but comes out like more of a plea. Jason nods and hands her the rest of her belongings. Her fingers graze his knuckles in the transaction and she feels the pinch of static shock. She doesn't flinch, doesn't say a word; Jason is doing her a small kindness here, and who is she to complain about a little pain. She knows pain, knows it like the back of her hand, like an old festering wound that refuses to heal. Still, the moment is bizarrely intimate, and Annabeth doesn't really know how to respond.

Jason glances at her before continuing their conversation from before.

"Course not," he says, giving her a 'who, me?' smile. He glances inside the cabin briefly, a troubled expression on his face. He looks as if he's about to say something when he bites his tongue and refrains. Annabeth is grateful for his silence.

"Thanks, Jason," she sighs in relief.

Jason turns and takes two steps away before calling over his shoulder, "Any chance we could go over some strategy before things get too crazy around here? I'm feeling a little out of the loop. You children of Minerva—I mean, of Athena… you seem to think you've got everything under control. I'd love to hear what you've got in store for all of us."

Annabeth nods, frankly surprised at his interest. "Sure," she complies, half from pride for her cabin's mental prowess, half to send him on his way. He gives a small salute and meanders to the right toward Cabin One, leaving Annabeth on her own in the cabin where her boyfriend used to live.

She sets down her belongings on Percy's nightstand, basking in the aquamarine glow of the Poseidon cabin. She realizes, after all that effort, that she needs none of the things she brought with her: sinking down into Percy's bed, cocooning herself in his blankets, she can faintly detect the smell of teenage boy festering in the fabric.

It isn't enough.

"The Argo II should be big enough to hold at least ten, even though the prophecy only calls for seven," Annabeth tells him over the schematics to the aforementioned ship. It helps her to divert her attention away from the actual process of putting the planks into place; explaining the minutia of the ship to Jason is surprisingly not trivial. She finds herself surprised by the innovations of the Hephaestus cabin (she is herself most partial to the canon that shoots arrows tipped with Greek fire). "Though the Roman camp is bringing enough campers to fill the boat at least three times over."

Jason does not look surprised when she reveals the sheer magnitude of what she has come to call The Roman Legion.

"Everyone at the Roman camp trains equally hard so that we all have this, this uniform strength," Jason begins, the words just within his grasp. "This way when we fight, we fight as one unit of sheer power. We don't leave anyone behind because we have no need to. To be better than your peer is an anomaly, a fault of a system that should make everyone equal."

Jason's memories had at first come back in a deluge, but since then it had been more of a drip. He remembered, but he didn't feel connected to the other camp in the same way he had learned to love Camp Half-Blood. He knew he should feel his allegiance shift to his home, but Jason didn't know where his home was anymore.

"You're an anomaly, then?" Annabeth says with a grin. "You don't strike me as someone who can blend in real well."

He shrugs. "Not really my fault who my dad is."

"There are lots of things in this world we can't control," Annabeth says slowly, trying also to convince herself of the truth in her words. "But we are what we make of the situations we're thrust into, right?" She looks at him with sad eyes, silently begging for a release from the way the conversation has headed.

Jason nods, and the clouds above them seems to darken briefly before fading back to a balmy blue sky.

It doesn't feel like hours, but by the time she finishes telling him the route they're taking to get to Greece, it's dark out.

Annabeth's stomach growls. She laughs. "Dinner?"

The days become easier once Nico arrives. It feels good to see a familiar face, a face that knew the same pain she felt. Nico's grown up fast in the past few years, but especially since Percy's disappearance. Annabeth notes that since then, Nico has attempted to take on the mantle of leader: sometimes successfully, sometimes otherwise. Leading took prescence, which Nico had by birth right as the son of Hades, one of the Big Three. Still, he remained a skinny loner; thankfully he shot up over the past year and a half, now nearly towering over Annabeth herself.

"I think it's related to my time in the Lotus Hotel," he tells her over dinner. "Making up for lost time."

He doesn't bring up Percy until a few hours later. Annabeth, while grateful not to think about her missing boyfriend for a bit, is eager to discuss him with Nico, someone who understands Percy in the same way she and Grover do.

She notices that Nico's drink is a deep blue. She points it out and he shrugs. "Figured I owe the guy to carry on his tradition of bizarrely colored drinks. Still tastes like Coke."

Annabeth smiles softly and pushes her plate away, finally turning to face Nico head on.

"Any news from the Romans? You must shadow travel over there a bit," Annabeth prods, nearly begging for information. Nico looks at her shiftily, not necessarily willing to reveal more than he had to to prevent getting pummeled by an angry head counselor.

"I go there sometimes, but just as a scout," he admits at last. "Percy seems okay, at least." When Nico says Percy's name, Annabeth flinches imperceptibly. "I work a lot with the Hunters. I bet you they didn't tell you that I found the entrance to the Roman Camp."

"Have you been inside?" she asks, intrigued.

"A little. They divide their camp into seven hills, just like Rome itself: Palatine Hill holds what we'd call the Big House," Nico begins, taking a sip of blue cola. "The next biggest hill is Capitoline, and that's where the houses for the Big Three stand."

"Jupiter, Pluto, and Neptune?" Annabeth asks.

"No, and that's where it gets weird: they consider the big three to be Jupiter, Neptune, and Mars. I guess it's because they consider war such an important part of being Roman." Nico looks disgusted as he says the words: Annabeth sympathizes, seeing as his father had pretty much been deposed as one of the three most powerful gods on Olympus.

"That's bizarre," Annabeth agrees quietly.

Nico continues to describe the various hills, where the 'houses' are scattered. Annabeth listens in rapture, glad to have something new to wrap her mind around.

When they finally run out of things to say, Nico stands up.

"Thanks a lot for dinner, Nico," Annabeth says. "You should stick around here more often... it's good to see you."

"Nice to see you too, Wise Girl," he says, mock saluting her. For a moment, Annabeth is quiet, just resting a hand over the middle of her chest.

"Annabeth?" Nico asks, concerned.

"Don't call me that," she breathes. Her chest feels constricted, as if in a vice grip. "It's too soon."

He looks himself pained at her grief. "I'm sorry, Annabeth." A moment of loss deepens the gap between them; Annabeth sees a shadow flicker over Nico's features, and she wonders briefly who has been taking care of him. She has friends, but Nico tends to stand alone.

"So what do you think of the newbies?" she says, trying to change the subject.

"Well, that Drew girl is absolutely horrible," Nico says with a slight chuckle. "I may have tripped her on the way out of target practice earlier today." Annabeth guffaws, and it feels like a real moment of happiness.

"Piper seems cool," he adds. "She reminds me of Silena."

Annabeth sobers up and nods. "That's a worthy comparison."

"From what I saw of Leo earlier," Nico says, a strange expression on his face, "I've got a feeling we're going to have a lot in common."

Annabeth tilts her head in a silent question.

"Second banana to the head honcho? Really, Annabeth, you didn't see the comparison?" Nico says, but Annabeth can tell that is just scratching the surface.

A couple weeks pass since Nico's arrival and Annabeth elects to distract herself with training: one could always use a bit more practice in the field if one planned on fighting a huge, forty foot tall immortal giant king. At the practice arena, Annabeth draws a sword—it's mid-length and lean, a nice fit for her fighting style. She generally prefers the bow or two short knives, but she can certain handle herself as a swordswoman.

She grips the sword tight and raises it, touching her left hand to the flat of the blade. It would be good to get a work out in, to dosomething instead of sitting on her hands until the Roman campers arrived.

"Need a partner?" calls a familiar voice. Annabeth opens her eyes to see Jason before her. She smiles.

"Only if you have a special desire to get your ass kicked," she laughs. He pulls out the sword Juno had gifted him; it shines in the daylight, glinting so brightly as to nearly blind Annabeth.

He clinks the tip of his sword against hers, signally the beginning of the match. He attempts a maneuver that Annabeth has seen a version of performed by Travis Stoll a couple times, but the ending flourish has a twist that is new to Annabeth and keeps her on her toes.

"Interesting moves," she grunts, whipping her sword around and throwing him backwards. He grins and moves his feet back and forth, clearly ready for another onslaught.

The battle goes on for what feels like forever: both Annabeth and Jason fight to win. She could feel her own pride getting in the way of calling a draw, and in spite of knowing him for such a short time, Annabeth could see that Jason too drew upon pride as a motivator.

At long last, Annabeth tries a move Percy had taught her—it catches Jason off-guard and his sword clatters to the ground. Breathing hard, Annabeth flicks the blade of her sword to Jason's throat.

"That last move," he gasps, "that looked so different in comparison to the rest of your slashes. Nice work."

She grins and sheathes her sword, allowing him to collect his own. "Percy taught me it last year, and I'm pretty sure he learned it from Luke, who was the best swordmaster this camp has seen in decades." A warm smile blossoms over her face as she remembers the first time she disarmed Percy using that same trick.

Jason's shirt is soaked with sweat, but it still looks surprisingly good on him. Annabeth allows herself to watch a bead of sweat drip down his Adam's apple into the neck of his tee-shirt before chiding herself—enough.

"You okay?" he asks.

"You're good," she compliments him. "Clearly the Roman camp teaches their campers well. That's nice to know, if we're going to be walking into battle with them."

"The Roman camper's training should be the last thing you worry about," Jason said with a laugh. "Trust me—we're good."

Annabeth laughs and is about to make a comment, questioning exactly how good they could be if she had just beaten him, when she glances over Jason's shoulder and sees Piper standing in the distance with another younger Aphrodite girl, looking positively furious.

"I think I upset your girlfriend," Annabeth tells Jason in warning. "If you're too tired to make-out, don't blame me."

Jason shrugs. "She's not my girlfriend. Back home…" Jason stares off into the distance, clearly lost in the pieces of his memory he had retrieved thus far.

"Is there someone back home waiting for you?" Annabeth asks, the question cutting close to her own current situation.

"I think there might be," Jason admits, but he looks uncertain. "But it's all so muddled in my mind, I don't really know what I can trust right now. The Mist made me think I loved Piper." Annabeth nods in understanding—she would be wary of any relationship that had been forced upon her by an unknown hand.

"Lunch is on me, big guy," she says, clapping him on the back. Somehow, over the months that they'd been at camp, Jason had grown even taller than her.

"That might actually be sweet if we paid for food around here," Jason grins.

"Shut up," she laughs as they walk toward the dining area.

Later that day, Annabeth is sitting on a log by the woods when she hears a voice call out her name: it's Piper, by herself this time.

"May I join you?" she asks Annabeth, who nods with a smile, patting part of the log next to her. Annabeth's holding a few photos that Jason had found in Cabin One.

"Nice photo," the girl tells her. Annabeth tilts her head, immediately on guard. The tone of Piper's voice is not complimentary. "Can I see?"

Piper's fingers run over the edge of the photograph as the younger girl gazes at the trio depicted: dark-haired Thalia, giggling madly over a stupid joke, Luke and his crooked smile, looking gloriously handsome and mischievous, and Annabeth herself at the center, gazing up at Luke adoringly.

"So you've always had a thing for blonds," Piper mutters. The words are so painfully sharp they feel like knives.

"Don't assume you know me, girl," Annabeth says, snatching the photo back. Piper seems to realize that she's crossed a line, but the daughter of Aphrodite doesn't apologize. "Luke is dead."

Piper puts a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. "Annabeth, I'm so sorry."

Annabeth can feel a tinge of charmspeak in her words, begging her to forgive and forget. Annabeth breaks eye contact with Piper.

"Percy has dark hair," she says distantly. "Beautiful, dark hair that looks nearly green in the sunlight." Annabeth's eyes well with tears. "Matches his eyes, you know?"

Annabeth leaves Piper on the verge of a breakdown. Her eyes are on the ground in front of her; she focuses on putting one foot in front of another, on making her way to the Poseidon cabin before she finally loses it. She feels like a widow twice over: the loss of Luke was enough for a lifetime… but the gods seemed to have more in store for her. Now they had taken Percy from her. It was easy to blame them, and so she did—fervently.

She doesn't make to Cabin Three—instead, she hits a wall of teenage boy head on.

"Woah there," Jason says, looking down at her. Leo stands to his right, a concerned look on his face.

"You okay?" the dark haired boy asks. "Anyone I should be making nice and toasty?" Annabeth smiles at Leo. The son of Hephaestus looks exhausted and she doubted he could conjure smoke, let alone a flame. A smear of grease runs down his cheek and Annabeth realizes just how hard the entire cabin has been working to get the Argo II afloat.

"I appreciate the offer, but it's okay," Annabeth says kindly, taking his hands in her own. "Leo, I—"

"If you're about to profess your undying love for me and my macho ways, let me take this moment to inform you that you've already got a boyfriend," Leo says with a wide smile. Annabeth blinks hard, trying to keep the tears in.

"I wanted to thank you—the whole Hephaestus cabin, really—but you in particular," she says, true gratitude in her voice. "You work as if sleep is a luxury. You never complain. You just continue to make the Argo II great." She gives his hands a squeeze before letting them go.

As she walks away, she hears Leo mutter to Jason, "Well, that's definitely not normal."

The Romans arrive a month later. They stand together in a giant elongated rectangle, each member of the ranks dressed to the nines: every person, man or woman, had a silver chest-plate that covered the torso from neck to hip, engraved with various feats the camper had apparently accomplished. Below that—

"Woah," Connor Stoll says under his breath. The Greek campers had gathered quickly since the Romans' arrival. "They're all wearingskirts."

It was true: everyone had on a leather skirt, with tanned legs poking out from underneath them. On some people, it looks plain wrong: big, beefy guys with muscles down to there in skirts? It strikes Annabeth as oddly amusing. In another moment, Annabeth might have laughed along with Connor—but that's when she sees Percy.

He's pretty hard to miss. Each member of the phalanx has a plumed helmet with purple hair sticking out from the top, but only one person has a cape of bright blue attached to the shoulder of his chest plate. The cape trails behind him, a burst of color in a sea of monotony. When he pulls off the helmet, she sees that he's cut his hair short: in a word, Percy looks very Clooney.

"Holy shit," she says under her breath. Only her boyfriend could make wearing a skirt look incredibly… well, hot.

He approaches the Greek contingent with a newfound confidence that Annabeth guessed they beat into you at the Roman camp. He looks at the people who used to be his friends with a profound contempt that Annabeth finds does not suit him. Percy draws Riptide and sticks it blade first into the ground.

"Who is your praetor?" he calls out.

No one moves except Jason, who puts a hand on the inside of her wrist. Annabeth hadn't noticed him join the group, but the sense of relief she had him at her right hand was substantial.

"He's calling out our leader," Jason whispers.

Annabeth draws her bow and shoots an arrow into the ground next to Riptide. At first, the Roman legion cannot tell who has shot the arrow—and it is clear, when Annabeth steps out from the pack of Greeks, that she is not what they expect.

Percy looks at her—really looks at her, looks at her as if his eyes could burn a hole right through her.

"Who is your praetor?" he repeats, the question now directed at her. He appraises her, and she can nearly taste the disdain.

A raucous laugh that originates in the Roman hoard permeates the silence.

Then the catcalls begin:

"A woman leads them!"

"That's 'cause the Greeks are all women!"

Annabeth doesn't deign their words with a reaction, but the ever-growing crowd of Greek campers behind her is not having it. Someone thankfully claps a hand over Connor Stoll's mouth before he can return the insult, and then some.

"Hey!" a voice calls out. Annabeth hears a voice, laced with power, call out above the madness. Annabeth doesn't turn to see her compatriots, but soon Piper, Jason, and Leo are standing beside her. Piper's eyes are blazing, daring the Romans to call out another girl.

The Romans are silent. Annabeth nods to Piper. The daughter of Aphrodite seems to blaze like a thousand suns, like she knows what she's doing. Annabeth hopes she does.

"Friends, Romans, countrymen," she begins over a low din of static noise that immediately dies down. "On behalf of Annabeth and the rest of Camp Half-Blood, we would like to welcome the First Legion, hailing from my homeland, California."

Some of the Romans are so in sync with her that they raise their weapons in salute in response. Piper puts out a hand, and they lower their spears slowly.

"We all know why we're here: it is time has come for two great peoples to become one. We are at war with the world, ladies and gentlemen, and don't think I mean that metaphorically," Piper says seriously. There is a dissonant murmur that rumbles through the Roman phalanx: Annabeth feels an ugly smugness course through her. The Greeks appear to have the upper hand in this battle for dominance, information wise.

"Gaea is our enemy. The giants are rising. There is no room for in-fighting—the time to be children is over," Piper continues, locking eyes with a particularly disgruntled looking Roman girl. "Either we come together now and face our enemies… or divided, we will all die."

Annabeth has seen Piper charmspeak before, but this—this is something different. Every word she says is said with utter conviction: she believes her words, and thus makes the world believe her. She radiates an aura so ebullient that, in that moment, Annabeth is certain that even Gaea would give her pause.

A white wolf stalks out from behind Percy, who seems boggled that two women are leading their Greek counterparts.

Greetings, Greeks, a low voice growls, permeating Annabeth's mind. I am Lupa—I am in charge of Castra Heroicus.

"Demigod Camp," Jason translates in Annabeth's ear.

The daughter of Aphrodite is correct. We have come to pledge fealty to you and to join you in the battle against Gaea and the giants.

The wolf at last bows her head toward Jason.

It is good to see you again, son of Jupiter. Jason nods toward her, a tight smile on his face.

Percy approaches Annabeth, Jason, Piper, and Leo with Lupa at his side.

"So you're Jason?" Percy asks. He doesn't make eye contact with Annabeth, just cursorily lets his gaze wander over her. For a moment too long, he stares at Piper. Annabeth can nearly read his thoughts aloud: where does power like that come from?

Jason nods, sticking out a hand for Percy to shake. Percy looks down at it for a moment, then grasps the hand in his own. It's not a normal handshake: the thumbs are clasped around each other, as if the two men were about to pull each other into an embrace.

Percy lets go and turns to Piper, who looks exhilarated and amped up on adrenaline. "A daughter of Venus," he says with a smile, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. "I should have known. The Romans were descended from Aeneas, the son of Venus. The strength in you is… substantial, for one so small."

He ignores Leo, turning his attention at last to Annabeth.

"It's been a while, Percy," Annabeth says. She finds herself a little peeved that he hasn't kissed her hand yet.

Percy's eyebrow quirks upward, and he glances at Lupa. "Do I… know you?"

That's when Annabeth feels the bottom drop out from under her. She remains standing, but her heart is no longer in this exchange.

"You haven't regained your memories," Annabeth says plainly. Percy shakes his head from side to side.

"No… before I arrived at Castra, it's all a blank slate," Percy admits grudgingly. "Though if it was so important, I think I would have remembered it by now."

This is the final straw. Annabeth lets out a deep, shaky breath. She's ready to go collapse in bed and sleep the grief away. A hand at the small of her back tells her otherwise.

"You have to do this," Jason whispers. "You're our praetor. You need to finish what you started."

"We will both, as praetori for our respective camps," Percy continues, pretending as if he cannot see the hurt on Annabeth's face, "swear fealty to one another. Then we shall need lodgings and food. After that, we will need to discuss our strategy on how exactly we're going to defeat Gaea and her giant army."

Annabeth nods, and Percy draws a small knife from his belt—made from silver, not celestial bronze or imperial gold. He grasps the blade of the knife in his left hand and makes a slit down his hand, which begins to drip blood.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be quick about it—the curse of Achilles doesn't let me bleed for long," Percy says peevishly, handing her the knive. Annabeth silently slits her palm; the physical pain is a good anchor to the world around her, rather than the agony inside her head. Percy raises his hand and Annabeth grasps it in the same way Jason had. Percy raises their clasped hands over his head, bringing their bodies close enough to touch. His green eyes blaze into her grey ones, and Annabeth doesn't breath until they let go.

Exhaling at last, Annabeth finally hears the dull roar that has erupted from both the Roman legion and the Greek contingent.

"You're done," a low voice murmurs in her ear. "It's done. You want to go?"

Annabeth nods and feels herself get led away from the crowd. A chant of "An-na-beth! An-na-beth!" follows her as she walks away with Jason at her side. He's half-leading, half-carrying her by the time they're out of side of the Romans: he had put his hand in the small of her back to bring her toward the Poseidon cabin, and she had taken that and run with it, leaning into his side, using him as a crutch.

"No, we can't go here," she says as they reach Cabin Three. She couldn't imagine Percy's reaction to her sleeping in his bed. "Can we—can we go somewhere else?" Jason wordlessly leads her to the left, toward Cabin One.

He opens the door and lets her inside.

"Here, over here," he tells her, bringing her to a rumpled bed that was clearly his own. She sits and then lies back. The heartbreak doesn't lessen. "You kicked some serious ass out there."

"Was that what I did," she says with little force behind her words.

"Annabeth, you knew this wouldn't be easy," he tells her, pulling up the covers.

She nods numbly.

"I'm sorry it went the way it did," he apologizes.

"Don't," she starts. "Don't apologize for him. That's not your job."

"What is my job, then?" he asks her. She smiles at him and takes his hand.

"You're here for me," she says honestly. "I hear that's a pretty rough gig."

His eyes crinkle. "The dental is too good for me to quit," he says with a grin, accompanied by a blush as she squeezes his fingers tight.

He stands and lets his fingers fall from her hand.

"Stay?" she asks him plaintively.

"As if I'm leaving you alone," he laughs, kicking off his own shoes one foot at a time. Annabeth watches as he pulls over a cot. "I've got ulterior motives for hiding out here," he admits, running a hand up the back of his neck. "Those kids out there, those Romans… I know them. Or at least, I knew them before…" He gestures broadly in the air, signifying 'all this craziness.' "I'm not sure how to be the person they used to know. I don't know if I can fill my own shoes, crazy as that might sound."

"You don't sound crazy," Annabeth tells him. To be honest, he sounded scared, but she wasn't about to tell him that. "You just need to take some time to plan your next move. Athena would be proud."

It doesn't take Annabeth very long to drift into sleep, but her rest is uneasy, like a ship in a storm. She wakes every so often, fear at the fast-fading dream tugging at the pit of her stomach. It's only when she lays eyes on Jason, snoozing contentedly to her right, that she feels… safe? At peace? Annabeth doesn't know what it is exactly. What she does feel is a creeping guilt and horror at the situation she's let herself fall into: as devious as one of Daedalus's traps, she has fallen prey to what some might call 'the rebound.'

When she realizes exactly what she's been doing with Jason, leading him on, she feels ashamed of herself. Who did she think she was, some cruel-hearted daughter of Aphrodite? Her heart belonged to Percy Jackson… didn't it?

She watches Jason inhale and exhale, the light playing with his flaxen hair. He had his own romantic issues as well—Piper, for one, and this mysterious Roman figure he had alluded to after their bout. Maybe they were simply distracting each other from the inevitable. Maybe what they were doing would save them both a little sanity in the long run.

But what were they doing?

Annabeth breathes out a long, hard breath. "I don't know," she admits to herself softly. "But it needs to stop."