Valentine without you

Happy Valentine! This is my valentine gift to everyone, and I really hope that everyone has an extraordinary day! Oh, and don't forget to check out my other stories or my blog! (The link can be found on my profile.)

Disclaimer: Don't own PJO characters! Oh, and it's my first ever attempt at a first shot. Please R&R!

It's been four years, four years since he spent a valentine with her. It was four years since she saw him actually; four years since they were together, happy as a couple; four years since he died.

It was a Monday night, the fourteenth of February, and she was spending the whole night by herself. Like the past three years. She remembered, four years ago, this very night, they were fighting the Minotaur, for the third time. He was taunting the monster as usual, and they didn't even think they would be unfortunate enough that it hit his weak spot.

Third time is the charm.

Of course, they just had their dinner in a very fancy diner in downtown New York, and they were walking home together, hand in hand, when the monster attacked. As usual, he was the distraction and she the one who kill the monsters.

She had her trustful Yankees cap on the moment she saw the Minotaur, and he knew immediately, as they had been doing this since they were twelve. She tapped him on the shoulder three times, two long ones, and a short one. They both knew the meaning well—I love you.

It was the last one they shared.

The Minotaur was beyond angry, beyond furious, and beyond possible hatred for a mere demigod. It glared at him, angry for all the times he caused it misery, killed it, and let it rot in Tartarus for a few years. It had came back—to finish him off.

It knew she was going to kill it from behind, the strategy had been used too much times. Third time is the charm, it knew. It skillfully dodged all the strikes that came from her dagger, and went for the offence. It glared hatefully at him, and charged. He just fended it off, and it charged again. Over, and over; over, and over... It believed that it would get lucky some time, and that would be the end for him this time, not it.

Unfortunately, it was correct.

One of its horns got stuck in his weak spot, and it was a fatal blow. He knew it, he could feel his life draining from him the very moment the horn connected with the small of his back, and he had only one wish—to keep her safe. The Minotaur itself just ran away—it had done what it wanted to, a goal it had made since eleven years ago.

She ran towards him, dagger forgotten in the pavement, and tore down her Yankees cap and dumped it aside as she reached him. He was losing blood, and the life aura was nearly completely drained out of him. She was calling his name, desperately, praying to every god she could think of.

It was too late.

She told him that she loved him, though it was much too late for him to be able to say anything. He did a final last thing—he tapped her three times, two long ones, and a short one.

Percy Jackson had died, four years ago, and the last thing he did were telling Annabeth that he loved her.

Annabeth slumped in her chair, and kept thinking. What if they didn't go to the diner four years ago? He would still be here with her, probably being the Seaweed Brain he was, laughing and joking with her. Too late now, he died, exactly four years ago.

It's been half past ten, and she was already extremely hungry from all the thinking. Nearly all her friends from camp half-blood were celebrating with someone else, especially the campers from the Aphrodite cabin. And she was all alone.

She opened the faucet and washed her hands, while the lights suddenly went out, and back on, continuously. Then she realized, it was back and on, in a sequence, a pattern, a specific way. The water from the faucet was in the same pattern, and it was in a way that she would think impossible if she was not there. She paid attention to it, and she noticed the pattern.

The lights and the stream of water, in perfect symphony, were stopping and going on in a pattern. Two long sparks, and a short spark. Two longer streams of water and one shorter stream…

She cried as the realization drawn on her, almost seeing his shadow in their apartment, almost seeing and hearing him say I love you.

And here goes my very, very first attempt writing a romantic scene, if it every counts as that. I'm thirteen so I'm never good at writing these scenes. Please drop a few comments, if you like it, yes, I still have a few of these ideas to go.