i. a bittersweet arrival

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ALAN Thatcher liked to think that he was a cool dad. He drove a vintage Volkswagen, owned a sweet little apartment in the heart of Greenwich Village, and, not to mention, he was a comic book artist, something he considered to be the coolest of professions.

In all reality, he was just a loveable dork.

"You're sure you've got all of your things?"

"Yes, Dad."

"And enough cash? And gold coins?"

"Drachmas, Dad. You know that."

"Yes, drachmas. I know that."

Alan glanced over at his daughter, who was lounging in the passenger seat beside him, her sandal-clad feet resting lazily on the dashboard of the ol' VW.

"What about your pens? Your sketchbook? Maybe you'll have more time for drawing this summer."

"They're in my bag, but .... well, after last summer, I doubt I'll have much time for that. Especially with ... especially with Silena gone."

Alan didn't know too much about what went on in Camp Half Blood each summer, but he knew all too well about what had happened the year past. He'd been blessed, or cursed, depending on who you asked, with the ability to see through the mist, so while the rest of the mortals overlooked the devastation in Manhattan as a natural disaster, he knew exactly what had happened.

He'd seen it, with his own eyes.

He also knew his own daughter had been caught up in the middle of it, and she'd lost many people that she was close to, including a sister.

He'd do anything to take away all of her internal pain in an instant, but there wasn't anything he could do for that. So, he did what he could actually do — try and cheer her up with his endless chatter and terribly cheesy jokes.

"Things are going to be okay, Lolo," Alan said, purposely using the nickname he'd crafted for Lorelai as a child in an attempt to bring a smile to her face.

A small smile filled Lorelai's face. "It will be nice to see everyone again."

Alan nudged her with his arm. "See? There you go."

Lorelai pulled her feet to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she gazed idly out of the passenger window. The towers of Manhattan had long disappeared, and she knew the rolling strawberry fields of Camp Half Blood would come into view.

"So," Alan cleared his voice awkwardly. "Is there anyone in particular you're looking forward to seeing this summer?"

"Daaad," Lorelai groaned, a pink tint coming to her already rosy cheeks. "I'm looking forward to seeing everybody."

"What?" Alan chuckled. "I'm just asking a question!"

"No, Dad." She rolled her eyes. "No one in particular."

Alan was well aware of the powers his daughter possessed in the "love department," as he himself had fallen under the charm of Aphrodite, the goddess of love. Lorelai was a direct result of that union, and he knew his daughter had inherited some of her mother's charms, just as she'd inherited his own artistic abilities.

"Okay. I was just curious."

The father-daughter duo sat in silence for a few more minutes, and soon enough, the familiar sights of Camp Half Blood came into view.

"Here we are," Lorelai muttered, clutching her old yellow backpack to her chest.

"Here we are." A bittersweet smile filled Alan's face as he looked at his daughter. He knew that Camp Half Blood was her happy place; her safe haven away from the chaos of the mortal realm. But, that didn't make it any easier to drop her off each summer -- especially this summer, after everything she'd been through the year before.

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