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After Tartarus, monsters didn’t bother him anymore. Chiron thought that it was because he reeked of the darkest pits of Hell, but Percy knew better.
The monsters didn’t come for him because they were afraid of him. He couldn’t blame them; some nights, he was afraid of him too.
The night that Percy left Camp Half-Blood for good, he woke up in Cabin Three drenched in sweat. That wasn’t the problem. Percy was used to waking up this way, used to the nightmares that drowned him in his sleep.
The problem was that when he finally came to, he realized that his hands were not wrapped around the throat of a monster that was trying to kill him. They were wrapped around Annabeth’s neck. And if he thought she had looked frightened of him when he was choking Akhlys with her own poison, that was nothing compared to the way she was looking at him now.
His hands were freely bleeding from where she had desperately clawed at him trying to escape, but he didn’t notice. His entire body felt numb, there was a pounding in his ears, and before he knew it, he had released his hold on her and thrown himself to the opposite end of the room.
She wretched from her position on the floor, hands shaking as she tried to force air into her lungs. Even with the distance between them, Percy could see the angry red marks on her throat where he’d --
“I’m so sorry,” he choked out. He felt like he was on fire.
“Percy --” She tried, breaking into another coughing fit.
Percy had had enough; he couldn’t bare it anymore. He tore his eyes from hre face as he scrambled to his feet, throwing open the door of Cabin Three. He thought he heard her struggling to get up, trying to call his name, but his mind was made up. Without so much of a backward glance, Percy slammed the door behind him and broke into a run toward Long Island Sound.
The night that Percy Jackson left Camp Half-Blood, a storm broke out, causing waves of water to beat on the shores relentlessly. The toilets, sinks, and showers exploded at once, driving campers from their cabins in fits of confusion. From his room in the Big House, Chiron awoke with a heavy feeling in his heart: the Son of the Sea God was gone, and no one would be seeing him for a long, long time.
***
Annabeth wouldn’t talk about it, but the story came together pretty quickly in the days following. Everyone knew that she and Percy had changed since Tartarus, and their frequent nightmares were part of the reason no one said anything when Annabeth wasn’t in her bed most nights. Twice now the two had saved the world, so it wasn’t uncommon for the other demigods to turn a blind eye and cut them a break when they needed it.
But it was hard to turn a blind eye to the angry purple bruises on Annabeth’s neck, or the hollow look in her eyes. She wandered the camp those first few days like she was half dead, appearing to everyone like she did the first time he went missing before Gaea rose.
She spent a lot of time, when she wasn’t locked away in Cabin Three, sitting at the end of the dock, letting her feet dangle in the water. Once upon a time, a million years ago, it seemed like, all she had had to do was drop her dagger into the ocean to get his attention.
These days, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
It was a weird feeling not having Percy by her side and not actively trying to rectify it. She’d known him like the back of her hand since they were twelve years old, could predict his next move in a fight like his sword was an extension of her own.
Now, she was conflicted. She loved him. She would always love him, she didn’t know what she would do in a world where she didn’t. Loving him wasn’t the problem. No, the problem was the fact that there was a part of her, and she didn’t know how dominant, that was seriously terrified of Percy Jackson, more than she had been in Tartarus.
Before, although she’d been afraid of his power and him losing control, at least she knew that she would never hurt her. Percy was a lot of things, but he wasn’t that. She hadn’t thought he had even been capable of that.
She’d been wrong.
The days had stretched into weeks that had stretched into months by the time that whispers of Percy’s whereabouts reached Camp Half-Blood, and it took minutes for the news to reach Annabeth once it had crossed the borders. The water nymphs were notorious gossips, and in no time at all, two had found her at the end of the dock, peering up at her from the water’s murky depths.
“He destroyed an entire legion under the sea,” one said, watching for Annabeth’s reaction. “He killed them all.”
“I heard he’s with Lord Poseidon,” the other cut in. “He’s in the royal palace, living like a king.”
Each word cut into Annabeth like a knife, but she schooled her features to appear unbothered. The last thing she wanted was for him to know how she was doing, the nightmares she was continuing to have.
What hurt the most was that he’d gone somewhere she couldn’t follow, even after he’d promised. Together, or not at all. My ass, Annabeth thought.
That summer, hurricanes ravaged the East Coast, tearing down buildings and leaving dozens dead and missing. Small planes mysteriously came down all over the Atlantic Ocean, never to be seen again. Some of the younger campers began to pray to Poseidon at mealtimes, begging him to stop his devastation.
Annabeth knew better.
***
On the day of her eighteenth birthday, Annabeth left Camp Half-Blood and didn’t tell anyone. It was still dark when she slipped out of Cabin Six, the sun not yet poking over the horizon, and she felt something loosen in her chest at the thought that no one would be able to look at her with their pity for any longer.
She traveled to Montauk, and after spending most of the day searching, she found the old cabin, half-sunken in the sand. Thankfully, no one was staying in it that day; beaches had been closed from all the freak weather, so she let herself in after picking the lock on the front door with her knife.
Percy had taken her here only once before shortly after Kronos had been defeated. Their relationship had been so fragile then, so new, and they had spent the weekend getting to know each other in a more intimate way. She had smiled, then, resisting the urge to kiss him as he recounted the memories he’d made there with his mom growing up, and he’d promised to bring her again the next summer.
She felt like she was on autopilot as she shook out the bugs from the sheets and threw open the windows. Outside, she could hear the waves beating tirelessly against the shore, almost as if Percy himself was upset that she was there.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had spent her birthday alone. Maybe while she was in the Labyrinth. The previous year, of course, had been spent in Tartarus, and nothing could take that title of Worst Birthday Ever, so this one hadn’t been bad. Sure, she wasn’t surrounded by her friends and siblings at camp, and she’d had to deal with a few spiders in the cabin, and the love of her life had vanished months ago again but this time of his own choosing, but still, she didn’t hate it. For once, her brain wasn’t running at a million miles an hour, and no one was bothering her. She felt a semblance of peace.
Maybe this is what growing up felt like. She was tired -- of the gods, of being a half-blood, of never catching a break -- and there was a weariness in her bones that seemed like it would never leave her.
From her spot on the beach, Annabeth watched as the sky grew darker as the sun set behind her. She sighed, resting her elbows on her knees and crossing her legs at the ankles.
“Annabeth,” a voice said suddenly, directly to her left. She didn’t flinch and she didn’t look at the man beside her, either; she had grown past the age where the gods could garner any reaction from her but disgust.
“Poseidon,” she said, her eyes focused on the crashing waves in front of her. In another life, another world, she might have addressed the Sea God with more respect, but those days were long gone.
“Happy birthday,” he said finally, after a few moments of silence. This got Annabeth’s attention; a god would hardly take time out of his immortal existence to wish a demigod something as trivial as a happy birthday, even if she had played a hand in saving the world twice.
“Thank you,” she responded, turning her head to look him over.
He was dressed like he was going deep-sea fishing: cargo pants, a pocketed Hawaiian shirt, and a bucket hat. His dark hair was as messy as Percy’s beneath the hat, sending a jolt through her, and his beard was neatly trimmed. He looked like Percy might if he spent the next twenty years baking in the sun, fishing rod in hand. Annabeth quickly looked away, her eyes stinging.
“Did you need something from me?” She asked carefully.
The Sea God sighed, shifting in his spot next to her in the sand. “It’s about Percy.”
She didn’t say anything. Sensing that she wouldn’t, Poseidon continued.
“I’m...worried about my son,” he said. “And I think you’re the only person who can help.”
She couldn’t help the scoff that escaped her.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly at Poseidon’s frown. “But Lord Poseidon, I haven’t seen Percy in almost a year. I don’t think I can help you at this point.”
He shook his head. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. Just talk to him, please.”
Annabeth looked at him then, and for the first time in a long time she didn’t see one of the gods that she had come to hate so much, but a worried father who just so happened to have to ability to turn her into a floating piece of kelp if she crossed him. And mortals thought their in-laws were bad.
“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
Poseidon shrugged. “I trust you’ll figure it out. Your mother may not be my, ahem, favorite Olympian, but she always seems to find a way.”
With that, he vanished, leaving behind a strong sea breeze. Annabeth clenched her fists in the sand, glaring at the horizon. She was sick of feeling like a pawn of the gods, sick of running errands for them, and she just wanted to be left alone. But this was Percy. For him, she would always make an exception.
As her birthday came to a close, Annabeth wandered back to the cabin and sent an Iris message to Chiron to let him know she would be going away for a while. She didn’t give a reason why, and her old mentor didn’t ask, but she had a feeling he knew exactly what she was doing.
***
She started in New York in the heart of the city because other than camp and the sea, this is where she felt his energy the strongest. She visited a heavily pregnant and despondent Sally Jackson and a worried Paul, who were both happy to see her but clearly not all there.
“He doesn’t even know about the baby,” Sally had murmured through tears, and Annabeth took the older woman’s hands in her own, feeling as though nothing had changed from the last time Percy had disappeared.
She left their apartment with blue cookies in her pockets and fire in her heart. Percy may have left because of what he had done, but she’d be damned if she let this darkness consume him. Together, or not at all.
From there, Annabeth followed the mortal news reports, tracking every instance of seemingly impossible weather and every tropical storm up and down the eastern seaboard. She spoke to naiads and other water spirits in every body of water that she could find, listening with growing dread as they recounted tales of the merciless son of the Sea God that leveled entire villages with little regard to the lives he was destroying.
Weeks passed, and one day Annabeth caught a glimpse of her reflection in a stream. Her face was gaunt, her eyes shadowed, hair tangled, and with a start she realized that she looked just as she had the day she had escaped Tartarus.
The difference was, she couldn’t remember the last time she had had a nightmare, or even a panic attack. Percy was gone and she had lived through unspeakable horrors, but Annabeth Chase was still standing. She would survive, and she would be okay, with or without him.
***
With this thought coursing through her like lightning, Annabeth found herself standing in the ruins of a small, nameless beach town in Florida that had been deprecated by a small hurricane the night before. It was the early hours of the morning, before any of the town’s residents had made their way home from their evacuations.
The air was still, the streets silent save for the crashing waves in the distance.
It was in the ruins of a young child’s bedroom that she saw him, broad shoulders hunched in towards himself as he stared at a stuffed animal in his hands.
It was Nemo. His baby fin was hanging on by one soaked thread.
“Percy,” she said quietly, moving toward him an inch at a time. He didn’t react, almost as though he hadn’t heard her.
Carefully, she let her fingers fall on his shoulder, touching him for the first time in over a year. His shoulders slumped even further, and Annabeth felt something inside her crack.
“You’re here,” he said, so quietly she almost missed it. She tightened her grip on the almost-disintegrated fabric of his camp t-shirt. His voice was deep, heavy, hoarse from lack of use.
“Of course I’m here,” she whispered, kneeling down beside him so that they were on the same level.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
She sighed. “It’s time to come home.”
He looked at her and green met gray for the first time since that night. He looked older, somehow, and there was a part of her that no longer recognized him. His hair had grown out, nearly reaching his shoulders, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in weeks. There were new scars on his skin, white scratches and holes that stood out against the brown.
His eyes were like shattered glass and slightly feral. She found she couldn’t maintain eye contact, so she looked away.
“I’m a monster,” he said quietly, bitterly. “Go home and forget about me, Beth. Everyone will be better off.”
He tried to turn away from her, and Annabeth found herself reaching for his hand with hers like it was the most natural thing in the world, because at one point, it had been.
“I’m not leaving without you, Seaweed Brain,” she said fiercely. “Together, or not at all, remember?”
He whipped his head around to look at her, his eyes searching her face.
“I’m so sorry, Wise Girl,” he said suddenly, returning her grip on his hand. “I completely understand if you hate me --”
“I could never hate you,” she broke in, and she meant it. Regardless of what happened between them and whether they were together or not, she could never hate him.
“You don’t know what I’ve done, though,” he said, his voice breaking. “What I’ve done since I -- since I left.”
She looked down at their entwined hands. “I know enough. And I still don’t hate you. And I’m not...scared. Of you. Anymore. I’m scared for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“This isn’t who you are, Perce,” she explained, staring at a spot just above his eyes. They were still too hard to look at. “It’s not. You’re a good person, you still are. I promise.”
He let his head fall onto her shoulder, and for a moment, it was like they were kids again, still figuring it out.
“I feel like I can’t stop,” he murmured.
“Can’t stop what?”
“Hurting people,” his voice cracked again. “My powers --”
“We can help you.”
“It’s just not fair to you, Annabeth,” and tears were making their way down the grime that coated his face.
And suddenly she was crying too. “None of this was fair, Seaweed Brain. None of it’s been fair since the day we were born.”
She took a deep breath. “But I want to figure this out with you, together. Because we promised that to each other. Remember?”
He gave her a flicker of a smile, a sad one, and for a moment she was able to see her best friend again.
“Something permanent. I remember.”
Annabeth looked at him, and kept looking at him, like she was drinking in the fact that he was even here. They had lost each other and found their way back time and time again, had gone through hell, and he was still here.
Percy was looking at her the same way.
“Let’s go home,” she whispered, closing the space between them and touching her forehead to his.
He nodded. “Let’s go home.”