There were a thousand places in the world Percy would rather be than here. A thousand things he'd rather be doing than sitting and waiting. If he were in control, he'd be sifting through the gentle waves of the beaches of Montauk, soaking in the last rays of summer sun. Unfortunately for him, life seldom put itself in his control. It had a funny way of not so gently tugging him every which way, and he'd long since acquiesced to just being along for the ride.

It wasn't because of any innate desire of his own that he found himself here. No, it was a mother's insistence that brought him to the deserted waiting room with the cream-colored walls and the uncomfortable chairs. She'd been persistent, and he'd been forced to give in to her demands. If anyone else had suggested he'd see a therapist, he probably would've scoffed at the idea. Unluckily for him, his mother wasn't anyone else, and he'd never been able to say 'No' to Sally Jackson.

He patted his legs nervously, wondering just what waited for him on the other side of that heavy oak door. It stood large and foreboding, in stark contrast to the bland decorum of the waiting room around him. The waiting room was warm, sure, but it lacked character. It was boring. The door on the other hand was decorated in scratches, scuffs, and random marks, as if it had withstood as many trials and tribulations as the very patients who passed through them every day. He liked the door, he decided. It looked worn and weary, but in a beautifully intricate way. It looked like it had lived. The door was decidedly not boring.

As he studied the door and its interesting patterns, it swung open. A young woman with eyes rimmed in red emerged, shutting the door softly behind her. She'd obviously been crying, but her face wore a content smile. That piqued his curiosity more than the gnarled door or anything else he'd seen in his recent days. He wondered just what type of person was waiting for him on the other side of that door that could send away a crying girl with a smile.

He knew it was a Dr. Chase that he was seeing, but not much else. Hell, he didn't even know if he was meeting a man or a woman. All he knew was that they were supposedly one of the best therapists in New York, and his mother would have been upset if he saw anyone else. 'Always the best for my baby boy' she had said.

"Excuse me, Mr. Jackson?" the secretary said, her voice ringing out over the gentle drum of her fingers on the keyboard.

"Ma'am?"

"Dr. Chase will see you now." The girl chirped, shooting him a pleasant smile. He gave her a kind nod and a muttered thanks as he walked to the door pulling it open in complete mercy to what awaited him inside.

The room subverted his expectations in the largest of ways. For one, there wasn't one of those long sofas that he'd always seen in the shows and movies. It was a shame really; he'd always wanted to sit in one of those. The second most surprising thing was the décor. Therapy always made him think of heavy wooden desks and dust and archaic wooden walls. Instead, the room was decorated in a sleek, modern fashion, with comfortable looking chairs and plenty of warm sunlight. An interesting choice, but not so unpleasant, he mused.

The thing that brought him the greatest surprise though was the woman hunched over the desk opposite him, hastily scrawling notes on paper with handwriting that looked more like it came from a typewriter than a human hand. Blonde hair cascaded in tight ringlets from her head like coiling rivers of sunlight, hiding her face from him. He stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure if it was the proper thing to interrupt her writing or not, but he didn't have to wait long. She must've sensed him, because she looked up to meet his eyes, and that's when the day became truly interesting.

He'd honestly been expecting Dr. Chase to be an old man who smelled faintly of mildew and wore glasses too low down on his nose. He probably wouldn't have been too shocked if Dr. Chase was an older lady with too sweet perfume and a grandmotherly smile. He'd even have taken a middle-aged man with a fatherly air about him in stride. None of his expectations had prepared him for the possibility of his therapist being so young, as young as him even… Or so beautiful.

She had sun kissed skin, charming and soft features, and a disarmingly friendly smile. All that put together with her blonde hair, Percy almost categorized her as your typical valley girl. It was the eyes that held him from that assumption. They scanned him up and down with far too much intelligence for her to be just some girl from Cali. Her observant eyes were a startling grey he'd never seen before, like the clouds before a thunderstorm. They were beautiful in the way the ocean was beautiful. A dangerous beauty that he wanted to dip his toes in. A vast swath of depth he would gladly sink into if only given the chance.

"Oh. Um. Percy Jackson." He said weakly after a while, realizing he'd been staring.

He extended a hand awkwardly, hoping she hadn't noticed the way he'd been staring. She shook his hand in greeting and gave him a smile much less warm than the first. Oh yeah, she totally knew he was staring. He felt the heat rise in his cheeks as much as he tried to fight it.

"Annabeth Chase." She replied, gesturing towards the various chairs in her office. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

When he sat down, he was surprised by just how comfy the chair was. For a few moments, he forgot he was actually a grown man in an adult setting and took the time to wriggle backwards into the cushy leather. When he was satisfiable sunken into the cozy chair, he looked back up to see Dr. Chase watching him with an amused glint in her eyes. He shot an embarrassed smile at her, realizing he'd been caught.

"Sorry…" he said rubbing his neck sheepishly. "I was just ah… Making myself comfortable."

"There's no shame in that." She said seriously taking her own seat much more gracefully than he had.

"So…" Percy trailed off, tapping his heel on the ground nervously. "How does all this work? Do I just start talking or what? Am I supposed to just divulge my deepest darkest secrets? Am I supposed to cry? Because I can cry if it helps. I want to make sure I'm getting my money's worth."

She chuckled softly, a tinkling laugh that even when barely audible sent tingles shimmying down his spine. It was electrifying.

"No, you don't have to cry." She assured him. "But if you want to, you're certainly allowed to."

He paused for a moment feigning indecision before shaking his head resolutely.

"Next time."

"Next time." She agreed, the smallest of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "We usually don't do too much crying on the first day. Today I just want to get to know you, talk to you a bit, and give you a taste of what I'm like as well. If you're up for it, we'll discuss why you're here at the very least. If you decide by the end that you'd like to meet with me again, great, if not, I have several colleagues I can recommend. The important thing is that you find the therapist you're comfortable with, and that doesn't necessarily have to be me."

Percy wanted to interrupt and reassure her that he most certainly did want to see her again, particularly over a cup of coffee with considerably less distance between the two of them, but he figured that wouldn't be prudent. Instead, he decided to say something markedly more intelligent, and significantly more professional.

"Cool."

She raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on his seriously impressive vocabulary. Keep it up Percy, you're killing it.

"Tell me about your family." She said, drawing out a pen and paper. Her grey eyes flickered to him expectantly, and that's how he remembered he was supposed to talk for this whole therapy thing to work. Oops.

"It's small." Percy began, smiling fondly to himself. Family always made him smile. "For the longest time, it was just my mom and me. I had a stepdad when I was younger, but he was a real piece of work. We tend to just pretend he never existed. My new stepdad though is a great guy. I was skeptical about him at first, but he treats her right and makes her happy. That's all that matters right?"

Annabeth nodded, scribbling something down on a piece of paper. He tried to lean forward a bit to see what she was writing down but he couldn't make it out. He was dyslexic, so reading normally was already challenge enough for him. Reading her writing upside down was nigh impossible.

"So, you said it was just you and your mom?" she asked gently.

"My dad died before I was born." He elaborated, already knowing what she was really asking. He'd gotten the question a hundred times before "He was a commercial fisherman. According to my mom, he didn't love the job that much, but he loved the ocean. He loved sailing. He'd go out on the sea he loved and then he'd come back to the woman he loved. Then one day he just… Didn't come back."

"And how does that make you feel?" she asked, eyes locked on his. It was almost disconcerting, that swirling intelligence in her eyes. He felt like she was looking right through him. He did everything he could to suppress a shudder.

"I don't know." Percy shrugged. "I guess I'm supposed to miss him, right? But really, I don't know how I'm supposed to miss what I've never had. My mom's always been enough for me, and when she wasn't, I went to the ocean."

Annabeth nodded, and began to scrawl more on her paper. He watched her write, wondering exactly what strain of crazy she was currently diagnosing him with.

"The ocean?" she mused aloud when she'd finished her writing. She seemed genuinely surprised by his answer.

"Yeah, the ocean." He repeated. "Whenever I was young and I did miss my dad, I'd go to the ocean. I think it's because it would help me feel connected to him in some way. It's probably why I love the water so much now. It's probably why I do what I do for a job. The sea is in my blood, or at least that's my mom always says."

"Oh, and what is it that you do for a living?"

Percy smiled. That was a question he always loved answering.

"I'm a marine biologist. I've always wanted to be one, and luckily for me, the one thing I've always wanted to do is the one thing I'm really damn good at. I love it, honestly, and I wouldn't trade it for almost anything. There's nothing like being one hundred miles out, in the middle of nowhere, and just truly taking in the beauty of the ocean. It's so vast. So full of life. And then when you drop below the surface and see everything that's hidden from above… Sometimes I wish I could breathe underwater and live with the crabs."

He'd given that so many times that it almost sounded rehearsed, even to him. Keeping things pretty generic helped prevent him from getting lost in all the thoughts swimming around in his head. He was extremely passionate about what he did, and if he wasn't careful, he'd talk for hours, which was bad since most people don't think the migratory patterns of krill or the mating rituals of pufferfish are interesting.

"I can't say I've ever experienced something like that." She admitted. To his surprise, she seemed genuinely disappointed. "Maybe one day, if I'm lucky, I'll get the chance..."

"Don't worry, Dr.-" he began, only to be cut off.

"Annabeth is fine."

"Right. Don't worry Annabeth." He stressed the name, making sure to savor the taste of it on his tongue. "Once you've cured me, I'll hook you up with one ticket straight to the middle of the ocean, my treat."

"I'd like that." She smiled, a genuine smile that reached her eyes. Wow. Breath, Percy, Breath. Come on, be professional. "But I think it's important that you know that I'm not here to cure you. I'm here to give you the tools to help yourself."

"Okay, I guess that makes sense." He admitted hesitantly.

"Which brings me to my next question." She leaned forward in her chair, eyes piercing through whatever thin veil of anonymity he could hope to throw up. "What do you need me to help you with?"

He balked at the question for a moment, a bit surprised by the directness of the question. It's not that he was bothered that she asked, it was her job after all. No, he was just expecting a bit more… nuance.

"It's alright Percy." She comforted, probably mistaking his surprise for reluctance. "I've dealt with all kinds of things. Whatever it is, there's no need to feel embarrassed. I've had patients who suffered fro-"

"Cancer… I have cancer."

He braced himself for the reaction he'd come to expect. The hasty 'I'm sorry' and the regretful expression. The words of reassurance and the cheers of his bravery. God, he hated all that shit. It all felt so manufactured. He knew people felt bad for him, but even their legitimate condolences felt like a socially conditioned response. And the hero worship? He wasn't a hero to be looked up to. He was just a guy with cancer.

"What kind?" Annabeth asked unflinchingly. That made him smile. He had a feeling she'd be different. Maybe she'd worked with cancer patients before.

"Glioblastoma. Stage four." He explained. "It's-"

"Brain cancer." She breathed out. And there it was. A human reaction. The one he'd gotten a hundred times. He had to respect the fact that she'd managed to withhold until the actual diagnosis. Most people folded before he even hit the second syllable in 'cancer'.

"Yeah, brain cancer." He agreed, patting his thighs nervously.

All this time he'd been unable to look away from her eyes, enraptured by the complicated and tumultuous emotions he saw there. Now though, he couldn't bear to look at her face. His eyes ghosted over everything in the room but her steely gaze. He didn't want to see the same look in her eyes he saw in everyone else's. It would make them, make her, less special.

"How long?" she asked. He sighed. He knew that was the next question. It was always the next question.

"They told me a year, longer if I'm lucky. That was three months ago now."

"I'm sorry." She began, but he cut her off once again.

"Don't be. It's not your fault." He said, waving his hands dismissively.

Normally, he'd just say thank you and move on, but he didn't want her to feel sorry. He couldn't bear the guilty look on her face. No one should feel guilty because he had cancer and they didn't.

"There's always a chance. Treatments develop and new studies-"

He smiled gently at her. He knew this wasn't her talking as a therapist. This was her talking as a human being who wanted to console a dying man. A person trying to fill the air to clear out the hurt for him they felt in their heart. It wasn't her fault, he knew that. Everyone did the same, it made them feel better. It helped them avoid pain. That was something he understood far too well.

"I'm not seeking treatment." He admitted quietly. "That's why I'm here, actually."

Her eyes widened in surprise. Once again, it was a reaction he was already prepared for. He had this whole cancer thing down to a science, really.

"My mom knows I'm dying." He explained. "She knows there's plenty of things I'd rather be doing than going to therapy, but she insisted I go instead of doing those things. She says that she just wants me to be as happy as possible when I do die, but I know she's hoping that therapy, that something, that you will change my mind. That you'll make me get treated."

"So, you'll go to therapy for your mom, but you won't get treatment for her?" Annabeth asked carefully.

It was obvious she was doing her best to be non-judgmental, but he could hear it in her voice anyways. As much as she tried to hide it behind an air of professionality, even she thought he was either dumb or cruel or maybe even suicidal for his decision.

"I won't." Percy affirmed. "I won't get treatment for myself either, if that's what you were going to suggest next. I'll do the therapy for her because I love her, but I'm not going to subject myself to treatment. That's asking too much. I refuse to put myself through the pain of radiation and chemotherapy. What's the point of the extra months they'll give me if I spend them lying in a hospital, in complete agony, wishing I would die faster?"

Annabeth was silent for a long time, her eyes never leaving his face. He could see the gears turning in her head, and the longer they did the more uncomfortable he became. Maybe it would've been better if he'd just said that he wanted to keep his prized head of messy black hair (the ladies loved it) instead of giving her the cold hard truth that he'd take death over pain any day of the week.

"The point is that you'd be alive." Annabeth finally argued. "You'd have more time with your loved ones. Percy, living in misery is marginally better than dying in it."

"No, it's not." Percy disagreed vehemently. "I'm dying either way. There's no doubt about it. The only difference is, I can either die in a hospital bed, wishing I'd done all the things I'd wanted to do, wishing that I'd truly lived for my last year on earth, or I can die just a bit sooner, but with no regrets. I'm choose the second option, Annabeth. The better option. I want to die with memories, not dreams."

She sat for a while, a stunned look on her face. Maybe it was the darkness in his ideology. He knew he was a bit jaded, and that his view on his own death was different than most, but hey, he had brain cancer. That gave him the right to be a little fucked in the head, didn't it? Still, he could see that his words upset her, so as he rose to leave, he shot her one comforting smile. He was still a people pleaser at heart after all.

"So. Same time next week?" he said weakly.

All he got was a mute nod in return.

AN: Hey guys, this is my third story, and it's going to be a lot different from the first two. One thing of note, this one will be significantly shorter, but hopefully with higher quality as well. It's extremely experimental for me considering I've never once been to therapy, but I've talked to a friend who's been to six years of it and they gave me some tips. Basically, I'm saying if this is nothing like real life, I'm sorry. I tried to show that Annabeth is a good therapist, but still headstrong and intrenched in her beliefs enough to argue with Percy about his decision. IDK if any of this is quality to be honest, but it's just an idea I've had stuck in my head for a while now that I'm finally able to get out before moving on to my next full-length story. Hopefully you all dig it. As always, leave a review to let me know what you think, and until next time,

Peace