Work Text:
Ship: Percabeth (Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase); not a ship fic
Series: Percy Jackson and the Olympians books, The Heroes of Olympus books, Riordanverse
Rating: T, PG-13
Warnings: Dark Percy drabble. Drowning. Pre The Chalice of the Gods. Mild spoilers for The Titan’s Curse, The Battle of the Labyrinth, The Son of Neptune, and The House of Hades.
Run
He sensed the monsters before their growls broke free of the darkness. Percy and Annabeth had been on their way back to his apartment for the night. The sun had set, the city lights and sounds still illuminated them. The strawberry fields of Camp-Half Blood were instead replaced with the smells of smog and street cart food. Annabeth would be staying a few days before going back to California to start senior year.
The summer heat still prickled against his skin despite the night. A few honks could be heard in the distance. Percy stopped walking and Annabeth looked at him questioningly.
“Percy?”
He was keenly aware of the eyes and malice they held, the hunger. Training with Lupa had done that, heightened his senses. Like invisible spiders crawling up and down his arms and spine, alerting him to the danger. Percy turned around slowly and from the shadows a group of monsters appeared: a few rogue furies, two smaller cyclopes, and others in the back he couldn’t quite see, their forms hidden in the shadows.
A small gasp escaped Annabeth from beside him, and he could already see her reaching for her blade at her waist. Despite the hour, it was New York. Lights on the buildings above them and across them were on, and occasionally they’d pass someone on the street. But if anyone looked over, the Mist would hide the truth. Instead of monsters, they might see two teenagers about to be mugged or attacked by a gang.
Percy didn’t move but two of the monsters roared and lunged forward. Percy noticed the hydrant a few feet away, but that might cause too much damage for the mortals. Despite his ADHD, Percy had learned to quickly read the situation and his surroundings. A steaming sewer grate caught his attention next. The pit of his stomach was tingling.
The sewer grate blasted up in a hiss as the gray and gunky water shot up like a geyser. Annabeth jumped out of the way at the last second. The manhole cover hurled in his direction, assisted by the water’s trajectory, and Percy caught it in his left hand. The impact reverberated up his arm, but there was no pain despite the weight (two hundred pounds had nothing against the weight of the whole sky). He’d caught it just in time as one of the monsters hurtled toward him. Percy swung the metal and hit the monster in the jaw with a horrible crack.
The monster laid flat on its back, jaw broken, and Percy took a few steps over it and brought the manhole cover over its skull, and with a crunch the monster stopped moving and turned to dust. He looked over at the second monster that had lunged. Percy had the thing surrounded by the dirty water that had gushed out of the sewer, and he was forcing the water inside the monster’s orifices.
With its claws, it tried to scratch at the water– to free itself, but it was no use. Percy willed the water down its throat and eyes and ears. Farther, deeper. He could feel the water filling up the monster’s lungs in his own veins, and the air was quickly replaced. The monster’s arms eventually went limp, and it twitched, slowly drowning. The others were laughing, but when Percy looked towards them, the other monsters were frozen in place. And they weren’t laughing.
He was.
The monsters were backing away, slowly at first, then they turned around and fled. Percy looked back at the monster in front of him, and from behind the murky water he had engulfed it in, he saw its eyes roll to the back of its head. Its body went limp before it turned into dust too.
The idea that they would have followed him home, to his mom, to Paul. To Estelle. Fury boiled inside of Percy, and it wanted to be unleashed. He hadn’t even needed to use Riptide to kill these monsters.
When he turned around, he stopped short. Annabeth was staring at him, and he’d seen that look on her before, in Tartarus. Fear. And in the reflection of her gray eyes, he saw himself how everyone must see him. Eyes wild, hair uncontrolled, a snarl on his features, harsh and cutting, like an unrelenting storm that smashed a boat against the rocks and everyone on it without regard, filling the sea with red.
For a split second, Percy remembered the painting Rachel had done of him when he’d killed Anataeus. He had looked wild then too. And Antaeus had been his half brother. As had been Phineas. Another sibling he’d manipulated into his own death. He would do it all again too. Maybe he was starting to see why the others were scared of him, because the truth was, Percy liked killing these monsters, and he couldn’t deny anymore the thrill it awoke in him.
And one day, the monsters would learn. If they saw him, they better run.
That look on Annabeth, though, made his adrenaline wash, and the bloodlust and need for carnage that had thrummed inside him disappeared almost instantly. His features relaxed, losing their feral nature. A violent tempest one moment, clear skies the next.
“Hey…” He said softly. When he took a tentative step closer, she didn’t back away or flinch. So Percy dropped the manhole cover with a clang and took another until he gingerly wrapped his arms around her. “Hey… It’s me.” He whispered against her blonde curls.
Percy felt her relax in his hold, and relief washed over him. Annabeth hugged him back firmly.
“It’s me.” He said again.
“I know.” She whispered back.