Annabeth was smart for her age, she’d always known that. So when she was asked to help care for wounded marine officers, she agreed without much hesitation. It seemed like a good way to help people and maybe even put her brain to work.

She found herself enjoying it more than she expected. The people she helped were nice, even if it was hard seeing them so injured and far from their families. There was one patient in particular she spent most of her time with: you.

Your body was a mess—covered in casts and scars, almost completely broken. But even in your condition, you had a way of making her smile. You cracked jokes, tried to keep things light, and somehow managed to make the days feel less heavy.

One day, as she helped you sit up to take a sip of water, you gave her a small, mischievous grin. “When I get better, why don’t you go on a date with me?” you asked softly.

Annabeth couldn’t help but laugh a little, shaking her head. “I don’t think that’s allowed,” she said, her voice teasing but kind.