Disclaimer: I do NOT own Percy Jackson (movie) or X-Men: The Last Stand


Author's Note: A one shot I wrote when I was bored. It's pretty mushy-ish. I would never do what Annabeth did to a complete stranger, but, who knows? I've never been in that situation.


Inspiration-Percy Jackson: The Lightening Theif, An X-Men fanfic for Angel/OC


Dedications- I dedicate this to...no one really. Oh! I know. I dedicate this to my first reviewer! Said reviewer gets their own one shot after this. They can just PM me (if they have an account) what they want their one shot to be about, or leave it in a review (if they don't have an account).


Even Angels Cry


Annabeth had never met her mother. At Camp HalfBlood, a camp for demigods to learn their parentage and how to defend themselves, she had learned that her mother was Athena, the goddess of wisdom and battle strategy. She took pride in that fact, never letting anybody see that inside she was hurting.

Her father, a portly man with joyful brown eyes and graying blond hair, had always been into genetics. It was no shock when he had told her that he was working for Worthington labs as a geneticist. He told her how he was developing a mutant cure; a cure for the lowly freaks that lived among them. The project started when Warren Worthington II discovered his son's, Warren Worthington III's, mutation. That was a decade ago. Apparently, they had already developed a prototype, all they had to do was test it.

Annabeth, disgusted at her father's actions, left Camp HalfBlood, hoping to find Warren (the III). All she carried with her was a blade, a bow and arrow, her knapsack, and some essentials. Among those essentials was a map of the East Coast and a plane ticket that her father had sent in hopes that she would go visit him.

Well, daddy, you got your wish, Annabeth thought darkly.


Annabeth looked up at the giant building before her. This Warren was inside, and she needed to get to him. The question was how to get in. Looking around her, Annabeth noticed a small stray dog. It was a cute black terrier, probably still a puppy. It was whimpering and looking at the building with large pleading eyes. She approached the dog cautiously, not wanting to frightening it.

"Hey, girl," she cooed, reaching her hand out. The dog looked at her hand in confusing, hesitantly reaching out to sniff it. With a happy bark, the puppy licked her hand. "You wanna get inside, girl?" she asked, giggling slightly.

The dark barked in agreement, bouncing around Annabeth's feet. She picked up the puppy and walked up to the doorman. The man looked at her like she was crazy. Why would a girl wearing ripped jeans, a worn red jacket and a baseball cap approach him.

"Is there a Mister…Warren Worthington…the third…living here?" she asked, pretending to read something on her hand.

"I don't see how that is anything of your concern," the man quipped.

"Oh, pardon me, sir. My name is Annabeth, and I found this puppy," she held up the puppy. "I took her to the vet to see if she had a microchip. They gave me this address, sir. I just want to return the cutie."

"Very well," he nodded, stepping aside to let her in.

"Thank you, sir," she said, nodding.

Once she was inside, Annabeth dropped the puppy and ran over to the elevator. A second later, the doors opened, and she was on her way to the penthouse. There was a whining sound next to her, and she was shocked to see that the terrier was still with her.

"Loyal as a dog, huh?" she asked, smirking. The dog yipped in agreement, before turning to face the doors, a strange seriousness falling over the dog's demeanor.


Warren looked at himself in the mirror, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. His wings were strapped down with brown leather straps, leaving his wings itching. His body bulged with muscles. He assumed that they were to help his flying, but he couldn't know for sure, seeing as he had never had the privilege to fly before. His breath shuddered as he looked over at the magnificent angel wings. How could something so beautiful be such a curse? Before he could ponder it anymore, there was a knock at the door.

"Sorry, dad! Give me a minute," he yelled pulling on his leather trench coat in a hurry.

"I'm not your dad," a feminine voice said from behind the door. "Please open up."

Warren hesitated for a split second before opening the door. The sight that met his eyes could not, in any way, have been human. He saw the most beautiful girl with brown hair and gray eyes. His breath hitched as he noticed her eyes roaming his body, stopping for a moment on his exposed chest. "Wh-who are you?" he asked, mentally berating himself for stuttering.

"My name's Annabeth Chase. We need to talk," she said, pushing him back into the bathroom, a small dog following behind her. The girl, Annabeth, shut the door, locking it.

Warren couldn't help but feel slightly nervous by the girl's actions. After all, it wasn't everyday that a pretty girl was locked inside a bathroom with him. "Talk about what?"

"The cure," she said simply.

He paled. She knew. It was the only thought going through his head. "What cure?"

"Don't play stupid. I know you're a mutant, I just don't know what your mutation is."

"How do you know I'm a mutant?"

"Well, for one, you just said you were. And, for two, my dad's a geneticist who works for your father. He was 'bragging' to me about it the other day," she told him, putting air quotes around the word 'bragging'.

"You don't seem too fond about the idea," Warren said, mentally murdering himself for being stupid enough to confirm his mutant status. Who knew what she was planning?

"I'm not. I came here to convince you not to take the cure."

Huh? He thought. "Huh?" he asked, voicing his thought.

Annabeth rolled her eyes and walked towards him. Her hands reached up to brush a stray blond strand of hair from his face. Her hand dropped down to the collar of his coat, and, very slowly, she pulled it off. Warren's heart beat was through the was going to see his wings.

His coat fell to the floor, revealing the most beautiful set of wings. Annabeth walked behind him slowly, her hands stroking the feathers on his wings. They were so soft, so white, like a cloud. The light reflected off of them, giving it an almost surreal glow.

"Beautiful," she breathed, walking around him until they were face to face again. "Like an angel," she whispered, her hand stroking his cheek.

The tears once again appeared in his eyes, threatening to fall at any second. "I'm not an angel," he said, turning away from her. "I'm a mutant…a freak…a monster…"

"No you aren't," Annabeth said, her voice flat. "I fight monsters on a daily basis. I think I know one when I see one."

"You obviously don't know what you're talking about," Warren said darkly.

"You don't have to act like this."

"Like what?"

"Like I don't know what you're talking about. Like your problems are worse than mine. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Warren. You were born this way. You had no choice, and you still don't. You either embrace it or you don't."

"Y-you don't get it," he said, his voice cracking with restrained tears

Annabeth sighed, wrapping her arms around his middle. "It's okay to cry, Warren. Even angels cry."

"I'm no angel," he whispered, the tears flowing down his face as he looked at Annabeth, possibly the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes upon.

"You are to me," she said, smiling weakly. "You are now and forever Angel, the weeping angel," she told him brushing wiping away as many tears as she could.

"The weeping Angel," he mused. "And Angels need to serve a god. Will you be my goddess?"

"If you ask it of me," she said.

"I ask it of you," he said, leaning closer to her.

"Then I shall be your goddess," she whispered, touching her lips to his gently.

"Even angels cry?" he asked, smiling slightly.

"Even the angels."


Author's Note: Please review. Remember: first reviewer gets their own one shot :D