Percy's head started to throb even more as he locked the door to his old bedroom. Looking around, the sights of his childhood flooded his eyes. He could see the light blue paint, the old bags of Sweet on America candy samples, the dirty (and sometimes sword-stab riddled) Camp Half-Blood t-shirts and of course, the first picture Annabeth had ever sent to him.

He remembered losing that picture back in the 7th grade, when he had to attend Meriweather College Prep downtown and the Laistrygonians with the other-worldly names like Joe Bob had ripped it up and chewed it up.

It was a simple picture, but it stung all the same. Annabeth, a bandana on her head and a proud grin on her face, standing happily in front of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C like she had been the architect.

He remembered how he had come across the picture while Annabeth and he had been in Tartarus after the whole Arachne affair. It had caught his eye, floating stoically in the Styx like it was trying to resist the grip of hopelessness that the river embodied. Percy had fished it out like a dolphin stuck in a tuna net.

He hadn’t even told Annabeth about it.

Percy picked the picture off of the wall just as Annabeth reached his door. He heard her try to pry it open, but of course he had locked it. In the same sense, he had locked her out of her life. After all, wouldn’t you protect whatever you had left it someone you trusted came in and robbed all that you had.

“Percy!” She cried, a tinge of appall mixed in with the general guilt in her voice, “let me in!”

Percy didn’t respond. He just fingered the picture of his ex, looking so unfairly happy when he was so depressed. In that moment, Percy realized why the word ‘depressed’ was used for those who are extremely sad. Because in that moment, it felt like his chest was being pressed into a mold and being squeezed back out. He literally felt depressed.

“Percy!” she said again, and Percy could hear the tears in her voice.

With a start, he realized that he was hurting her by being so distant, by being unresponsive.

I should probably let her in, he thought, I mean, she’s crying for Pete’s sake!

But then Percy remembered how much he had cried that night, after he had seen her in bed with that brown-haired man. He turned his back to the door and kept on holding the picture, silent tears streaming down the picture.

Then, a different string of thoughts flew into his head.

I’m freaking Percy Jackson, he told himself, I’ve killed more monsters than Achilles, done more horrible deeds than Hercules. I’m not supposed to cry!

He focused harder on the face he had seen on that night. Had he really been brown haired? Blonde? Ginger? The focus, the need to find out who the culprit was gave him something to do. He realized that he had to find the guy who had violated his girlfriend.

Not even thinking, he pulled on a fresh Camp Half-Blood t-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts. He opened his window and slipped onto the fire escape, the early September night air cool to the touch. But before he could leave, he had to leave a message.

A small part of him hated himself for doing this, but Annabeth deserved it. He ducked back inside and fashioned his message out of a few lengths of spare demigod rope he had lying around. Sadly, he realized that this wasn’t the first time since ‘that night’ that he had done this with his rope. Then, he scribbled a message in Ancient Greek and tacked it to the rope.

Then he jumped down the few flights of fire escape stairs on flight at a time and landed on the streets of Manhattan.

At least I’m home, he thought.

---

(Ten minutes earlier)--Annabeth 3rd Person

“Percy!” Annabeth shouted at his door, her mouth open in shock, “let me in!”

“He’s not going to listen,” Paul Blofis told her as he gripped her shoulders gently, trying to pry her away from the door. She violently shrugged him off and said again,

“Percy!” She could feel the hot tears run down her cheek, and she wiped them away erratically and stepped back, bracing herself against the wall and sliding down to the floor. She head her head in her hands, and after a few minutes, she heard the voice she dreaded almost as much as Percy’s.

“Annabeth, dear?” Sally Jackson asked, and Annabeth could hear her feet approaching on the soft carpet. She started sobbing now, and decided that she could never face Percy’s mother. After all, she had practically become Annabeth’s mother whenever she stayed in Manhattan.

“Annabeth?” Sally asked again, and despite the decision Annabeth had just made, she lifted her head and looked into Sally’s deep blue eyes. After that, the sobbing intensified, and Sally brought Annabeth’s quivering body into a hug.

“It’s okay,” She murmured as they both stood up, “you’ll get him back, sweetheart. I know you will.”

“What if he doesn’t want me back?” Annabeth found herself asking into her sweater. She regretted the words as soon as she had let them leave her mouth.

“Annabeth!” Sally scolded softly, like Annabeth had just said an old, dirty joke, “C’mon! Percy will always want you back. No matter what you do to him, no matter how bad you hurt him, he will always return to you.”

Annabeth thought about that for a very long time, and after a few long breaths, she finally returned the hug Sally had pulled her into. Sally rubbed her back and Annabeth pulled away, not smiling, but felling a little better. The difference between grieving a relative’s death and knowing that they are in a better place now. Not better, but a little better.

After pulling herself together from having to face Sally Jackson, who had gone into the kitchen to fix some tea, Annabeth decided to kick down the door to Percy’s bedroom. But then, Paul produced the key and Annabeth unlocked it.

“Percy?” she asked cautiously, trying to be gentle. Her eyes stung from having no more tears to give up. Her nose felt raw from the amount of tissues that she had wiped across it, and she had a strong feeling that she looked like Hades.

But her outer appearance was no match for how she felt on the inside. She felt angry, at herself mostly, but also a tiny bit a Percy for going so overboard. Then, she felt guilty about that anger because she had come to understand that she didn’t realize how much she meant to him.

But she didn’t feel guilty about what had happened on that night. Because, for one to feel guilty about one’s actions, one has to have had committed atrocities. Annabeth had done no such things. She wasn’t the culprit, she was the victim.

But Percy wouldn’t listen. Being Seaweed Brain, he had chosen to be stubborn. To lock himself away from the world in order to process his emotions. That had been one of the main reason Annabeth loved him.

“Percy?” She asked again, the door fully open now. But he wasn’t there. He was nowhere in sight. Then, she saw it. At first, it looked like a useless bundle of rope and a piece of paper thrown together. But Annabeth quickly realized that it was much more than that.

She walked over to his bed, where the rope was lying, and with horror recognized the knot it was tied in. It was a hangman’s noose.

“No, Seaweed Brain,” she murmured to herself as she read the note he had written, “please. Please tell me you didn’t…”

But her voice just trailed off as she realized that he had tried to kill himself. The note read:

“Wise” Girl,

Nice try. You come to my mom’s apartment, try to apologize, and think that everything’s going to be fine. If you thought that would work, I actually wonder where your so-called wisdom disappeared to. Tell you what? If you ever want to see me again, meet me at Grand Central in 24 hours. The café.

Annabeth felt numb as she dropped the letter onto the floor.

“What is it?” Paul asked, and she translated for him. When he saw the rope, his eyes furrowed, and he stared intently at the noose.

“Sally?” He called, “Come in here. You need to see this.”

A few seconds later, Sally arrived and saw what Paul what looking at. What amazed Annabeth was that she didn’t even start crying. She just looked really sad, almost disappointed, at the hangman’s noosed lying on Percy’s bed. Like she knew that Percy was capable of thinking so darkly, but didn’t think he would actually go so far as attempted suicide.

“I have to find him,” Annabeth said determinedly, “I have to.”

“Not to burst your bubble,” Sally said, still staring blindly at the noose, “but if Percy doesn’t want to be found for a full day, I don’t think he will.”

“The least I can do is try,” Annabeth said, feeling more and more useless.

All three of them were silent after that. Sally and Paul weren’t going to refuse Annabeth, and Annabeth knew that her quest was futile. Then, Sally seemed to notice something.

“What’s this, sweetheart?” She asked, picking up the old piece of paper.

When Annabeth saw it, her heart skipped a beat.

“I saw that get torn up!” She said, quickly explaining it to Paul and Sally. Then, Sally turned it over, and Annabeth heart broke in two. Again.

Taped to the back of the picture was Percy’s diamond ring. And it was the most beautiful thing Annabeth had ever seen.

Notes

Here's the long-awaited second chapter. I'm only going to update on weekends now because of school, so yeah. Comment what you think of it.

Enjoy,
Grafon