"Luke."

How many times had she imagined seeing him again. She put a hand to his face and almost stroked it but held back, her hand hovering just above his skin. She didn't think about the action; she just wanted to know that he was real. Was he real? That jagged scar that had slashed his handsome face. It was gone. Annabeth kept comparing her images of her first crush.

The Luke of her dreams versus the real Luke, standing in front of her. She remembered being drawn to his mischievous smile, it was like he had a delicious secret and he would tell only you while the whole world remained in the dark about it. He was tall. Taller than her. Same as always. But his hair was slightly longer. It wasn't streaked with grey anymore though and she pursed her lips involuntary when she remembered how sickly and aged he had looked after holding the sky for days. But when he had been taken over by Kronos, his health had returned. Annabeth knew that Piper and the rest of her cabin could probably argue that there was no such thing as being too healthy, too glowy, but she debated that. When he and Kronos had shared a body, Luke had an unnaturalness to him. Now though, he was perfect. His tan skin glowed and his hair gleamed in that golden light that spilled from the skies of Elysium.

Death suited him, it seemed. Annabeth smiled wrily. She had way too many years of experience with the harshness of the world that she had taken on a kind of cynicism of things that seemed too good to be true. Percy had been an exception to that rule. He was perfect. But he wasn't here. The powers of Elysium pushed away at her sorrow, suppressing those painful thoughts of Percy. Look, it seemed to say, Luke is here. And he was. But still, the daughter of Athena could not yet accept it.

She fixed her eyes on the boy and he smiled as he remembered the defiant tilt of her chin, that deliberate set of her jaw and those piercing grey eyes. And although her voice wavered slightly as she spoke, her tone was crisp and clear. "Are you real?"

He cocked his head slightly and his smile tilted.

"Is this real enough for you?"

He pulled her into his arms and she randomly remembered some sarcastic comment of Percy's. Once Luke had hugged her in front of him and Percy had declared that she looked as if she was about to 'pass out.' She had glared at him for that. But her thoughts of Percy drifted away and she was just there. In Luke's arms. And yeah, maybe she did feel like she might pass out, but so what? Her thoughts were confused. So what? This was the boy she loved? Was it? No. Percy. Her thoughts cleared. And although she let herself remained clutched to Luke for a few seconds more, she was clear headed and knew with certainty that she was most definitely still in love with Percy Jackson.

A wave of sorrow swept over Annabeth and not even the powers of Elysium could push it away. Tears streamed down her face as she thought of Percy, all alone on the Earth. But he wasn't alone, said Elysium. He had his friends, his family, he would be fine! Think about Luke! And then she did. Luke was a source of so much pain. He had betrayed her, poisoned Thalia's tree, nearly destroyed Olympus and all the worlds. The gently trickle of the River Styx in the distance made Annabeth remember the river Acheron, the River of Pain, on the outer boundary of Night's realm. Her breath hitched and Luke rubbed her back soothingly. The most painful of all the images it had shown her was of Luke sacrificing herself and the blood on her dagger. Luke's blood on her hands. But that wasn't real.

Luke was here with her. He was okay. She was okay. They were dead, but in Elysium, life continued in death. They would have a lifetime together. An eternity of lifetimes. Until Percy died, persisted a voice in her mind, but it was tugged away and replaced with nothingness.

Annabeth felt so confused. Her thoughts kept flitting to Percy but as soon as she thought of her boyfriend, it seemed that her mind would whitewash her memories and sweep them away. Distract her with Luke. Luke.

The boy pulled away, put his hands on her shoulders and stared deep within her eyes. His grin widened.

"Gods, Annabeth. I never thought that this day would come. How?" They were talking about her death. But somehow, down here, it was a good thing. It had reunited them. Annabeth with her first love.

"I was scratched." Gods, that sounded pathetic. "By a Keres. Percy and I, we were fighting them and I didn't have my dagger and it came up behind me and, and I died." She tugged a hand through her hair, wishing she had her cap. Right now, she truly wanted to disappear, but Elysium soothed her embarrassment away.

"Noble." Said Luke, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Shut up." Grumbled Annabeth but she was smiling too. She swatted at his arm playfully. "You have no idea just how noble I am. I saved the world numerous times, you know that?"

"Of course you did. You saved the world from me once." He said the last part quietly. There was no bitter edge to his voice. Just a glimmer of admiration. Annabeth's heart swelled at that. Ever since she was little, she'd searched for validation. It came with being a child of Athena. The constant feeling that she was never good enough. And she'd always looked up to Luke, loved him, held him on a pedestal. The compliment from him felt good. Sweet, like nectar or ambrosia. Oh? She had a strange thought.

"On Earth, the food and drink of the gods can kill demigods if we have too much of it. But if we are already dead?"

"Oh, Annabeth, here in Elysium, we dine on it."

*

Annabeth had never watched The Great Gatsby. But if she had, she would have been stunned by the similarities between the movie and what had become of her life. Luke, unlike Annabeth had seen The Great Gatsby. In fact, he had watched it with F. Scott Fitzgerald himself and had enjoyed dissecting the film, pulling it apart, critiquing and complimenting the visuals with the renowned author who had died many decades earlier. When he led Annabeth on a tour of the palatial grounds, he imagined the lilt of Lana Del Rey's voice accompanying the pair in a divine rendition of Young and Beautiful. But perhaps it was better that there was no music; such brilliant melodies might detract from the grandeur of Luke's home. If that was even possible. Nevertheless, the swooping splendour of the architecture was not lost upon Annabeth. It was so art deco. And she had this persistent niggling feeling when she looked at it. She turned to Luke, eyes curious and he grinned at her. A tuft of his hair fell over his eyes and he brushed it out of the way to look at her.

"Do you recognise it?"

The way he said that. It brought back the fleeting glimpse of a memory. This was her design. She had created this house years before. Annabeth's heart sang. This was what she wanted to do with her life. And she never got the chance. So instead, she was given the opportunity in death. In paradise. Luke absentmindedly wrapped an arm around Annabeth's shoulders and she tensed for a second before relaxing into him. They stared up at the house together and the daughter of Athena felt a smile pass across her lips.

"I love it," she said.

"I love it," replied Luke, "and it's all thanks to you."

The house tour passed by in a blur before Luke finally brought her to an empty plot of land beside his own home.

"This is your house." Annabeth stared blankly at the land before turning back to look at Luke. He cut off her sarcastic comment before it made it out of her mouth.

"Just close your eyes." The boy was tempted to put his hands over Annabeth's eyes, effectively shuttering her into darkness but decided against it. She'd probably stab him for doing that. He gave her a wave and called over his shoulder.

"I'll see you for dinner at 6pm. Thomas Jefferson will be there. Don't be late!" He didn't know why he said the last part. It wasn't like Annabeth was impunctual or anything.

Annabeth stared after him and then looked back at her plot. It was quite large, a few acres at least. And there was a tree on one side, a willow, sweeping its long branches back and forth across the grass. The wind rippled in the air, and a warm breeze tousled the grass and made a pleasing noise as it ruffled the leaves of the tree. She took a deep breath in and closed her eyes. She didn't know what to think. All sh wanted was to feel safe, and she only ever truly felt safe when she was with Percy. When she opened her eyes, she could see the faint outline of a pencil drawing in the air before her. She was too far away to touch it but as she stared at it, the etchings came into focus. Like one of her sketches of the new Olympus coming to life. The lines solidified into a framework and the texture of the building shimmered as if she was indecisive. She was indecisive. The building kept shifting, from a Roman Villa to an Italianate mansion. She sighed, still distracted, her thoughts unable to remain steady before she walked up the steps of the porch and into the building.

Thankfully, the internal workings of the house did not flicker between styles. The place reminded Annabeth a little of her cabin at Camp Half Blood and a little like her room on the Argo II. Although she had never been within this building before, it seemed to reach into the recesses of her mind and draw up the ideal floor plan. She found her feet walking towards her room, knowing where it was before even she knew. She passed by a library, stopping to catch a glimpse at the knowledge contained within. Old fashioned lamps festooned the desks and the room was filled with an insurmountable number of books and old scrolls.

A hallway lead past a workshop where tools were arranged in engraved drawers. She randomly stepped inside the room and opened a cupboard. Cogs fell out and she let her fingers trawl over the smooth ridged teeth of the mechanical implements before wordlessly putting them back. She let her fingertips graze over a SMART board and cast one last look at the many blueprints and antique war maps stuck to the walls before she left the room.

He shoes padded against the wooden floorboards as they traced a journey to her room. It was just like her cabin on the Argo II. Her desk felt familiar with all the same chips in the wood, and a pyramid of books was balanced atop its surface, along with her journal. A sprig of moonlace in a tiny terracotta pot sat in the window sill, overlooking the willow tree outside the house. It reminded her of the plant that Percy kept in his apartment, the gift from Calypso. A myriad of pens were spilled haphazardly across the surface of the desk and Annabeth gave a whisper of a smile. It was as if she'd just been working at it and had left only for a moment. The chair was even out a slight angle, seeming as though she'd just stood up.

Annabeth wandered around the room, smiling sadly at the photograph of her father flying a Sopwith Camel biplane. She remembered taking the photo, her dad had grinned at her, giving her the thumbs-up and she had laughed at his enthusiasm. There was an entire collage of images splayed across the wall. Polaroids taken with Thalia. Selfies with Percy, Grover, Nico, everybody. At the thought of Nico, she gave a start. He'd meet her here, surely? He probably knew of her death already. She grew excited at the idea, she could give him a message to Percy, to her friends, her family. Let them know she had arrived in paradise. Ananbeth chuckled weakly at her own eagerness to see Nico. There would be lots of time for that later. She had forever.

The wood creaked beneath her feet as she walked across the sturdy floorboards toward her bed. She felt the smooth dry surface of her duvet. Egyptian cotton. Sadie Kane had talked her into buying some once and she'd never looked back. Annabeth let her fingers dance across the sides of the canopy that fell across the four poster canopy of the king sized bed. She'd been so used to sharing a bed with Percy, waking up with him every morning...

She turned away from the bed abruptly and her eyes fell upon a wardrobe. It was old fashioned, an armoire, and she stood before it, hesitantly, her hand gripping the smooth brown wood of the door knob. The house was quiet save for the gentle rustle of the willow tree and the grass outside. Annabeth tugged on the handle -somehow she'd know that the hinge was slightly rusted, making the door whine almost petulantly- and the wardrobe fell open. A hook lay on the inside of the door and on the hook was her cap. The New York Yankees cap. She gave a cry of surprise and clutched it to her chest before putting it on. She was invisible. She smiled and took the cap off, gently flinging it onto her bed. The inside of the wardrobe contained a myriad of clothing and Annabeth let her hands grip the fabrics. Not only were there several orange Camp Half Blood t-shirts and Grecian style chitons but dozens of fluttery dresses and flowing tops. Things she never really wore when she was alive. There were even a few faded t-shirts that seemed familiar and when she clutched them to her face and breathed in their smell, she felt as if Percy were right beside her, wrapping her in a hug.

Annabeth let her fingers linger on those shirts for a few moments before deciding to wear them to bed. She explored the rest of the wardrobe and found her Camp Half Blood necklace, along with the coral pendant Percy once gave her, and her father's college ring. She traced the clay surface of the beads on the necklace and studied the designs of each of the beads but left it sitting on her bed. Memories of Camp Half Blood were still raw, tender. In time, the ache would lessen but right now, she didn't want to be distracted from a dinner with some of her heroes by nostalgia and an urge to return to the world of the living. Annabeth sighed, unhappily, and sighed again, trying to sound as if she were filled with some wistful joy. The sounds came out sounding shallow and she abandoned the necklace before selecting a white dress at random. She didn't recognise the designer label but could feel the expense of the dress in the thickness of the material. She let the wardrobe close with a slight squeak -she reminded herself to oil that hinge later- after putting on some brown gladiator sandals and tousling her honey blonde hair.

If Percy were here, he'd tell her how beautiful she looked. Her heart ached with longing. And then she left her room, left the house. The willow swept overhead but Annabeth walked past it, barely noticing the tree. Then she ran, through the meadow, to Luke's house, wearing a pretty white sundress that would make Piper proud, and Drew Tanaka immensely jealous.

She didn't notice the dark haired boy who stood beneath those sturdy boughs of the willow tree, watching her, wordlessly.