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It was supposed to be an easy quest.
In and out, Chiron had assured her. Grab the amulet from the temple. Get back to camp. When Annabeth asked Percy if he wanted to come, his face lit up. He seemed more excited to go on a quest now that the fate of Olympus and his mom’s life weren’t at stake. She can’t blame him though - she’s also been itching for an excuse to get out of camp, to see the real world again.
It’ll be just like old times, she thinks wryly. Nothing more nostalgic than fighting monsters with her two best friends.
Grover was the most skeptical of the three when she asked him to join (“they want us to go on another one?”), but after they pester him enough he relents with an amused huff, “Guess I’ll start packing the snacks.” Annabeth smiles fondly - the only thing that can rival Grover’s heart in size is his stomach.
The next morning, Annabeth says goodbye to Thalia’s tree, as she always does before leaving camp, and they embark on their second quest as a trio. There’s a feeling of optimism floating in the air - a familiarity that they didn’t have at the start of the summer. It feels like the start of an adventure, a new chapter.
Which made it all the worse when everything went wrong.
Maybe Annabeth should back up though.
Their destination, a hidden temple on the outskirts of New Jersey, was only a couple hours away by bus - after the week-long, road trip they embarked on a month ago this was practically a breeze.
Percy was elated when Annabeth let him get off the bus to buy their snacks at the gas station. She didn’t think it would become such a power struggle last time - she was doing what was best for the quest after all! But she knows he can handle himself now so she lets him go, probably against her better judgment.
Annabeth starts to regret her decision when he gets back, after seeing his purchases in the grocery bag.
“Did you only get…blue snacks?” she asks, her voice trailing up with disbelief. Half of them were blue candies, which wasn’t exactly what she had in mind when she told him to find “something to tide us over for the next couple of hours.” Then again, she can’t really talk. She also went a bit overboard in the candy aisle last quest - in her defense, she hadn’t really left camp in five years and the promise of processed sugar in colorful wrappers was too tempting.
Percy shrugs as a way of explanation, which tells her nothing, and sits back down in his seat passing out his questionable choices in snack food. Annabeth accepts a blue chip bag and a blue soda, shaking her head fondly. He’s always surprising her.
Grover grabs a blue snickers bar and starts munching on it, plastic and all. Annabeth and Percy share a bemused look before unwrapping their own snacks.
So far, the most dangerous part of this quest has been fending off a concerned mortal couple at the next bus stop who kept asking where their parents were. She had to stomp on Percy’s foot before he said something stupid like “On Olympus” while Grover spun the couple a harrowing and tragic story. Apparently, they’re now all orphans on their way to a remote wilderness school where they can heal from their trauma and become one with nature. Annabeth watches in fascination as the Mist starts to take over and the couple’s eyes glaze over. They walk away, muttering about “Those poor dears.”
Annabeth, Percy, and Grover make eye contact for one long second before bursting out laughing. “Was that really the best you could come up with?” Annabeth wheezes out, still doubled over.
“Hey! It worked!” Grover says indignantly.
Percy tries and fails to keep a straight face. “Be serious guys! I’m just so traumatized after… the accident that killed my parents,” he says, voice choked up with emotion. If sarcasm counts as an emotion that is. Annabeth rolls her eyes at his antics, knowing his mom is currently in Manhattan working on her book and his dad is somewhere in Atlantis, deep in the ocean.
“Save the sob story, Seaweed Brain. Let’s get back to the bus.”
Annabeth dares to hope that maybe this quest will go smoothly after all, which is of course when the first monster shows up. A harpy bursts out of the gas station with a shriek and the mortals start running around in a panic. Annabeth swears in ancient Greek and Percy whips his head around in shock - she’s not sure if it’s because he understood the dead language or because she swore at all, but she doesn’t have time to think about it. She just slips her knife out.
“Let’s get this over with.”
They end up making it to their destination by late afternoon - a bit behind schedule, but if they hurry they should be fine. The bus drops them off as close as the route can take them and they trek the rest of the way to the temple on foot, sweating in the blistering July heat. If she squints, it could just be a normal day out hiking with her friends, but she shakes the thought off with a frown - it doesn’t do any good wishing for a life she’ll never get to have. Percy looks at her questioningly, but she just shakes her head and flips his hoodie over his face as she passes (“Hey!”).
Grover seems to be having the best time out of the three of us, Annabeth thinks to herself. His hooves are suited for the rolling terrain and he seems perfectly content to ramble about the local flora and fauna, either unaware or uncaring that his audience of two is totally tuning him out. Annabeth wipes a bead of sweat from her brow, wishing she had packed more water. Chiron could have mentioned the temple would be miles from the road, she thinks tartly.
They pass by a small canal, brown water moving sluggishly. Percy looks at it longingly and she sighs, nudging him forward. “C’mon, sunshine, I don’t think you want to take a swim in that.” He grumbles, but doesn’t argue, which she’s grateful for. It’s too hot to argue.
Eventually, they reach the temple, which would be easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it - doubly so with the Mist. The entrance was carved into a craggy cliffside, boulders outlining a large granite door with accents of celestial bronze. Annabeth can’t resist taking a moment to admire the construction - it feels both organic, like a natural extension of the cliff face, but also refined, with its intricate etchings that have somehow resisted moss and erosion like the cliffs surrounding them. It’s really a feat of architectural design, she thinks to herself, wondering how-
Percy grabs her arm and tugs her into the darkness of the temple. Right. The quest.
In and out.
In a stroke of good luck (or fate because Annabeth doesn’t really believe in luck), the actual acquisition of the artifact goes off without a hitch. With Annabeth disabling the traps, Percy slicing anything that moves, and Grover watching their back, they pick their way through each chamber with ease, like a well-oiled machine. The amulet was exactly where Chiron said it would be, in the last chamber of the temple on a large pedestal. Percy says something about Indiana Jones, a reference she doesn’t get - probably from a movie then.
She scans the room thoroughly - it’s a tall, echoey room with stone reliefs on the walls depicting scenes from Greek mythology. One wall is dedicated to Prometheus giving humanity fire, another shows the opening of Pandora’s box and all the evil spirits that escaped into the world. It gives her a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach and she’s not sure why. But she doesn’t see any traps, so they proceed with caution, creeping up to the pedestal.
The amulet is small and unassuming, with an emerald pendant in the shape of an eye - but despite its appearance Annabeth knows how powerful it is if wielded correctly. According to Chiron it affords the wearer small glimpses into the future, which could be invaluable in the near future if what Percy tells her about Kronos and his forces rising is true.
A small part of her is desperately curious to put it on, but she knows better than to ignore Chiron's warning - he told them to not use it under any circumstances. Knowledge is dangerous. She knows that better than anyone...
Percy, the self-sacrificial idiot that he is, insists on being the one to grab it off the pedestal, just in case it’s a trap. Annabeth doesn’t think that’s the case, but she’s still nervous as he slowly reaches for it.
He pauses suddenly, his lip quirking, before reaching into his bag for…a candy bar? What in Hades… He puts his hand again by the amulet, pausing for dramatic effect, before quickly swapping the amulet for the candy bar and looking around, as if waiting for something disastrous to happen. Fortunately, nothing does. She’s still trying to convince her racing heart to get with the program though.
Grover gives Percy a flat look and Annabeth is just confused. “What?” Percy exclaims, “I saw it in a movie!” At that, Annabeth rolls her eyes. This boy.
Percy is still laughing to himself as he goes to place the amulet in his bag, “You never know! I could’ve just saved us from a giant boulder-“ his eyes glaze over suddenly and his body goes slack.
Annabeth looks around frantically for the cause - she could've sworn there weren't any traps, oh Gods, did she just curse her friend? Or maybe-
“The amulet,” Grover interrupts her thoughts, pointing at Percy's hand. Sure enough, when she steps closer she realizes his hand must have brushed the amulet as he was putting it in his bag - he must be having a vision, she thinks with creeping dread. Surely Chiron won't be mad if it was an accident, right? Annabeth gently pries it from his stiff fingers, careful not to touch the pendant herself, and watches with relief as his sea blue eyes slowly regain their focus. After a few seconds, he jerks to life, shaking his head as if trying to dispel an unpleasant memory. But he still seems shaken. His eyes dart around the room nervously, seeing it but not really.
Grover rests a calming hand on his shoulder. “What did you see?” he asks worriedly. Percy, who normally has no sense of personal space, shrinks from his friend's touch, which is how Annabeth knows something is really wrong.
“Oh, uh- nothing really. It’s nothing,” Percy says quickly, sounding as if he’s trying to convince himself. “We should really get out of here though. Last bus to Long Island leaves at 10.” Annabeth and Grover watch as he hurries out the room, giving each other a fearful look. All they know about this amulet is that it shows glimpses of the future. And whatever Percy saw…it can’t have been good. Annabeth desperately wants to interrogate him about it, but she knows the more they pry the more Percy will clam up. He'll tell them when he's ready.
With a sigh, Annabeth carefully tucks the artifact into her satchel, wrapped in a piece of cloth so no more accidental visions occur. They follow their friend out of the chamber, through the twisting halls of the temple, and back into the forest, where the last rays of sunshine now filter through the trees - it’s cooled down considerably and she fights off a shiver.
Aside from Percy’s vision, that could’ve gone a lot worse, Annabeth thinks to herself.
And for the second time today, she is thwarted by the universe as three smokey apparitions appear before them. Annabeth wonders if the Fates are laughing at her - luring her into a false sense of security only to rip it away at the last second. Annabeth wants a word with them.
Grover starts gagging and Annabeth quickly understands why as she pinches her nose with disgust. The odor emanating from the smokey figures is rancid, like rotting flesh and sickness, and with Grover’s enhanced sense of smell she’s sure it’s even worse for him. The figures are vaguely humanoid, with glowing yellow eyes and hissing mouths. It’s itching something in the back of Annabeth’s brain, something she once read about…
Percy uncaps riptide and steps forward grimly, trying to summon a confidence he clearly doesn't feel. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” he says and charges the monsters with a yell. But when his sword swooshes right through the first misty figure, he stumbles back, eyes wide. “Uhhh, guys? Any suggestions?”
Annabeth wracks her brain frantically, cataloging everything she knows about their opponent - 1. they’re spirits, probably guarding the temple, 2. they smell awful, like death and hospital waiting rooms - Suddenly her mind flashes to the relief inside the temple of Pandora’s box. Uh oh.
“I think…these are nosoi,” she says with dawning horror. “Spirits of disease and pestilence. They were released when Pandora opened the jar.” Grover lets out a bleat of alarm, recognizing the name.
“Great history lesson, but how do we kill them?” Percy asks nervously as the nosoi creep closer. They seem to be getting more tangible with every slow step they take - Annabeth isn’t sure if that’s better or worse for them.
Her mind devises a quick plan. They can’t use normal weapons against them, but maybe there was something to keep them from reforming… She’s got it! Panpipes, canal, Percy. Bingo.
“Grover, can you use your healing magic to weaken them?”
Grover looks uncertain, but nods, pulling out his panpipes and playing something that sounds suspiciously like a song by the Cure that her dad liked listening to. The nosoi hiss in anger, their misty forms flickering, and Annabeth resists the urge to flap her hands in excitement. That was the easy part.
She gestures for Percy to follow her, explaining her plan as they race towards the canal. Occasionally, they taunt the spirits to make sure they’re following them (“I believe in universal healthcare!” “Your breath is so bad even a gorgon wouldn’t kiss you!”) as Grover trails behind them, now playing a jaunty version of “Heal the World” by Michael Jackson.
“On your right,” she yells out and Percy nods once, swiping at a nosoi that got a bit too close, even though it didn’t really do anything except slow it down. He falters a bit, looking pale, and Annabeth pulls him forward. She’s also feeling the effect of the spirits - it was like inhaling noxious fumes. But they can’t afford to get sick - if Percy can’t execute the last part of her plan they’re done for.
They reach the canal just as Grover’s magic starts to falter and she nods to Percy. “Now!” He raises his hands, turning back on the nosoi with a hard glint in his eye.
Annabeth gasps as what seems like a metric ton of water rises from the canal and starts to swirl around the spirits, trapping them in the murky whirlpool. They hiss and shriek as the water starts wicking away at their smokey forms, but Percy just clenches his fist, face screwed up with effort. Annabeth knows he’s been practicing, but she can’t help but be impressed that the boy who gave himself a spaghetti mustache at lunch last week can also create a floating vortex of water with his mind. After a couple minutes, the spirits fully dissolve and Percy lets the water fall back into the reservoir, collapsing to his knees in exhaustion.
Annabeth rushes over to him, scanning for injuries, but he just gives her a strained smile and waves her off. “Just tired. I’ll be fine.” She's skeptical - he's tried to use that line after numerous "not fine" injuries (a cracked rib, a sliced arm, a twisted ankle to name a few), but he doesn't seem to be in pain, so she lets it go.
They watch as the couple fish in the canal float to the surface, poisoned by the plague spirits now infusing the water. Annabeth winces, looking over at Grover in concern. He seems upset, but resigned - it was the only way they could’ve taken down the spirits after all. He kneels down to cast a satyr warning to ward off any animals in the area from drinking from the infected canal and she turns away, giving him a moment.
Annabeth reaches down to help Percy up and he grabs her hand gratefully, his palm clammy and cool in hers. She knows using that much of his powers at once is really draining, kind of like how she feels after planning battle strategies until 3am.
“Nice execution,” she teases him. “I’ll give it a 7/10.”
Percy gasps in mock offense, the drama queen that he is. “That was at least an 8/10! Did you see the way they fizzled out? It was like-” he makes a weird gurgling noise and Annabeth laughs brightly. He still looks far too pale, but it's probably just exhaustion and overexposure to the nosoi - nothing some ambrosia and a nap on the bus ride home can't fix. She’s still feeling a bit nauseous after the encounter and Grover is also looking queasy, not that it’s stopping him from breaking out his snack stash. He deserves it though. Annabeth claps him on the shoulder, congratulating him on his healing magic and Grover beams with pride. “Thanks! My uncle Ferdinand taught me that!”
After catching their breath and drinking some water, they start their hike back to the bus stop, joking about the campers’ reaction when they return tonight.
“I bet Clarisse is going to be livid that we’ve gone on two successful quests before she’s even been on one,” Grover laughs. “I can’t wait to see her face. Right, Percy?” She expects to hear a snappy comeback, but…nothing. Weird. Annabeth turns and her heart leaps into her throat.
Somehow Percy had gone even more pale, and he’s swaying on his feet, looking as if a slight breeze might knock him over. Annabeth and Grover cry out as he tilts forward and it’s only her lurching forward that keeps him from falling face first to the ground. She’s saying something frantically, she doesn’t know what, it’s all a blur - all she knows is that Percy is not responding.
No. No, no, no, no, no. Not again, Annabeth thinks hysterically. It’s the St. Louis arch all over again, when Percy was joking one second and collapsing from chimera poison the next, but she doesn’t think splashing him with water will help this time, even if there was an uncontaminated water source nearby. Her throat closes up in frustration (Why didn't he tell us sooner?), but she doesn’t have time for anger. Not when her friend needs her.
Annabeth shifts Percy’s dead weight as he groans into her neck - his forehead is burning up oh Gods. “I think it’s from the nosoi, but why is he so much worse than we are?” she asks Grover in a panic.
Grover worries at his lip as he takes Percy’s other side. “...he did get more exposure to them than we did. Or maybe they cursed him?” It’s not the solution she was hoping for, but she appreciates him trying to be the rational one, because it certainly isn’t her at the moment. She blinks and all she can see is Percy, face ashen and eyes red rimmed, shutting himself in with the chimera just to keep her safe. She shakes her head firmly, forcing herself back to the present. “It doesn’t matter. We need to find a safe place to let him rest.”
Grover nods back to the trail. “I saw a motel by the bus stop. We just need to get him there.” A plan. They have a plan. Annabeth grips onto that thought like a lifeline.
Stumbling under Percy's dead weight, they begin the trudge back to the road. The walk seems to take twice as long as it did the first time, which doesn't help Annabeth's mounting anxiety - they don't have time to waste. But with the exhaustion of the day catching up to her and the tree roots tripping her leaden feet and 130 pounds of sick demigod on her shoulder, it takes every ounce of her strength to just keep putting one foot in front of the other.
After what could have been hours or minutes, the sign for the Silver Lining Motel blinks in the dark, like a neon beacon. Annabeth has never been more grateful to see a seedy hotel in her life. It reminds her viscerally of being on the run at seven and the relief of having enough pickpocketed money to spring for a motel room instead of sleeping on the streets. It brings back memories she hasn't touched in years...how she would get scared at the noises outside and hold her knife to her chest like a teddy bear, how Luke would always let her and Thalia have the bed while he would camp on the ground... she pushes the memory away, like it burned her.
As they walk up to the small office, Grover looks at her and seems to realize she won’t be letting go of Percy any time soon. She doesn’t like the look of understanding in his eyes. “I’ll go get us a room. Hold tight.”
As if I can do anything else, she thinks helplessly.
She squeezes Percy’s side as they wait under the sign, it's blinking orange light casting his hair golden and his skin sallow. She chokes down the lump in her throat as the situation sets in. This morning she was so sure they’d be back by nightfall. Now she just doesn’t want to go home to a burial shroud.
Percy groans, his head lolling forward. “‘Beth?” he croaks out. “Wha’ happened?” Her heart stutters and she tucks him closer to her chest, trying not to panic when she feels his fever burning through her shirt. He’s getting worse by the second.
“You’re just a little sick, sunshine. We’re gonna find a place to rest.” she says, forcing her voice to not sound as devastated as she feels. Even in his delirious state, Percy sees right through her.
“Are you okay?” he rasps. She wants to laugh. Or maybe cry. Always worrying about her, even when he can barely stand on his own two feet. Her stomach twists, not just from the aftereffects of the nosoi.
“You don’t have to worry about me.” she reassures, even though that’s like trying to tell water not to be wet.
“...did I ruin the quest again?” he mumbles into her neck and her heart just about breaks.
“No, no sweetheart, you didn't ruin anything,” she whispers into his hair, rubbing his back in what she hopes is a soothing gesture. “Didn’t I tell you you’re more important than a quest?”
He’s stopped responding and Annabeth's stomach drops as she feels frantically for his pulse, two fingers placed on the soft hollow beside his windpipe. It’s faint, but still there, thank the Gods.
That’s how she spends the next few minutes while waiting for Grover to return - counting Percy’s pulse.
He’s not dying on her watch.
The motel room is dark, damp, and frankly a bit dirty, but Annabeth is just glad to have somewhere to lay Percy down and properly assess the situation. She can hear Grover rambling behind her, nervously chattering to fill the silence Percy used to occupy with his snarky remarks and sweet sincerity. It feels like there’s a gaping hole in her chest.
Once laid out on the bed, Percy looks…corpse-like for lack of a better word. The only way she can tell he’s still alive is the sound of his raspy breathing and full body twitches he gets every couple minutes. Annabeth isn’t sure what that means but she knows it isn’t a good sign.
She rummages feverishly through her satchel - she knows she packed some…there! A small bag of ambrosia. She pulls out a square and breaks off small pieces to place on Percy’s tongue, closing his mouth so he swallows. He hums and there’s a hint of a smile on his face. He told her once that ambrosia tastes like his mom’s cookies once and she hopes it's a small comfort now.
“Annabeth, watch out,” Grover warns, pointing to Percy’s feet which have started smoking. She quickly puts the rest of the ambrosia away. It’s not as much as she wanted to give him, but she can’t risk burning him up with the godly food. Now onto the mortal first aid. She’s suddenly grateful for all the healing classes she was forced to take at camp.
“Grover, can you grab me a wet washcloth from the bathroom?” He nods, looking grateful for something to do. They need to get this fever down, she thinks as she feels Percy’s sweaty forehead. She wishes she had a proper thermometer, but right now her only diagnosis is “far too hot” and “far too sick.”
The washcloth seems to help momentarily as Percy sighs in relief.
Then he sits up with a jerk, hand over his mouth, and Annabeth’s stomach drops. “Bathroom” she orders, and they wrestle Percy out of the bed and over to the small bathroom just in time for him to start heaving into the toilet. He looks so small, hunched over like that - nothing like the demigod from earlier who created a whirlpool midair with barely a second thought. It’s terrifying how mortal he still is.
She wishes desperately that she could do something to take his pain away. Instead, all she can do is hold his hair back and dab his face with a wet rag and rub his back, but it's still not enough. He looks about five minutes away from Elysium (because let’s face it there’s no other place this dumb hero is going) - his skin is waxen and his eyes are red and he looks so much worse than he did after the Chimera poison, which is saying something.
Once he finally stops retching, she looks over to make sure he’s not coughing up blood before flushing the toilet. Grover hovers in the doorway - there really isn’t room for the three of them in the cramped bathroom, but she appreciates his calming presence anyway.
They spend the next thirty minutes like that, as wave after wave of sickness passes through Percy until he’s a panting heap on the floor, barely able to hold his head up. She gets him to sip from a cup of water, but even that he can't keep down. As she watches her friend curl up on the ground, shaking and delirious with pain, Annabeth wants to scream and cry and curse the Gods, but none of that would help. They're running out of options.
“Can you heal him?” Annabeth looks up at Grover desperately, eyes burning with unshed tears. She knows he’s exhausted, but he’s the only one who might be able to make a difference and Percy isn’t going to make it much longer if… she flinches at the thought. She can’t think like that. He’s in the prophecy, so he has to live. He just has to.
Grover fidgets with the hem of his shirt anxiously. “I can try, but the healing magic I used on the nosoi took a lot out of me. In this state, I'd be more likely to do him harm than good…” He looks as upset at the news as she feels.
There they are, in the middle of nowhere in a dingy motel room with barely any provisions because this was supposed to be an easy quest, and she has to watch her best friend slip away under her very own eyes, unable to do anything about it. Suddenly she seven all over again, shaking and helpless as Thalia-
“Breathe, Annabeth,” she hears Grover distantly over the ringing in her ears. She suddenly realizes how fast her breathing had gotten, how her heart was trying to beat out of her chest, how her thoughts started spiraling. It takes her several tries, but eventually she matches her breathing to Grover, helped by his soothing voice. Sensation starts rushing back into her body - the coolness of the tile, the glare of the fluorescent lights, Percy’s hoarse breathing next to her. Grover is on the floor now, looking at her in concern.
She slumps against him, suddenly exhausted. He wraps an arm around her and squeezes.
“I know you want to help, but we’ve done all we can for him. Now it’s up to him,” he says quietly, and she knows he’s right, as much as she hates to hear it.
Percy stirs from his crumpled position on the floor, groaning. Annabeth sits up straight, daring to hope he might be feeling better, when he shakily says “Mom?” and her heart sinks. He’s hallucinating now. That can’t be good.
“Your mom is at home, Percy. She’s okay,” Grover says in his most calming voice, like one would soothe a frightened child. Which he is, she thinks belatedly. They all are.
Percy doesn’t seem to hear him - he just looks around the room frantically. “My Mom! She’s in the Underworld! I have to- I-” Percy gasps, and in a fit of strength she didn’t think him capable of, he lurches to his feet, trying to run out the bathroom. Even with him severely weakened it takes the two of them to hold him back, but this just makes things worse, Annabeth realizes with dread. Percy now sees them as opponents, preventing him from reaching his mom and he’s fighting like his life depends on it, thrashing around erratically and calling out for her in desperation. They try reasoning with him (“Your mom is safe! You saved her!”) but Percy is a million miles away, his eyes wild and unfocused.
“We have to snap him out of it!” Grover cries out, as he gets elbowed in the gut again. She nods. He’s going to seriously hurt himself if he doesn’t calm down soon. Think, Annabeth, think. Her eyes dart around the room and - the shower, that’s it!
She rushes over to turn the rusty handle and water starts streaming from the shower head, first weakly, then in a harsh jet. She silently apologizes before shoving Percy into the icy stream, an awful parody of their second real interaction where she shoved him in a lake.
Annabeth sinks to the floor of the shower, holding him in place as his body catches up to the new sensation. She doesn’t even care that she’s getting soaked in the process, her braids falling damp around her face.
After a few seconds of struggling, Percy goes limp, blinking in confusion.
Then his face crumples.
Annabeth opens up her arms and he falls into them, clutching her as his weak body is wracked with sobs. Her own face is wet, either from the shower or her own tears, she's not sure anymore. She just squeezes the boy in her arms, holding him together as he falls apart. They rock with the storm of emotions threatening to consume them, and their heartbeats line up, the frantic pounding echoing in the other's chest. She has no idea if he's here with her or still trapped in a memory. All she knows is that she's exactly where she needs to be. Holding him.
Slowly the water turns from an icy jet to a warm rainfall, washing away their worries, just for a moment. If she weren't delirious from exhaustion, she'd swear it was a sign.
Grover sits outside the tub silently - she can feel the comforting tendrils of his empathy magic seeping into her bones, like a warm hug, and she smiles at him in thanks. He must be exhausted from so much magic in one day.
Eventually, Percy’s cries die out, and he slumps against her, physically and emotionally drained. Annabeth doesn’t want to move, but she knows it can’t be good for him to stay sopping wet, even if he is a son of Poseidon. Grover helps tug them out of the shower, turning it off behind them and guiding Percy to sit on the counter. He's nearly catatonic at this point.
Annabeth lets herself touch his shoulder one last time before dragging herself away. It’s hard letting him out of her sight, but they need to get out of these wet clothes and he deserves his privacy. Annabeth goes back to the main room to change into the set of sleepwear she had packed just in case, which she’s now extremely thankful for. She towels her braids dry as best she can, before slipping on her bonnet - that’s a problem for future Annabeth.
She can hear Grover helping Percy change out of his soaked clothes in the bathroom, and they stumble out a moment later, Percy looking soft and rumpled with his baggy pjs and half dried hair. It reminds her of the last time he dried them off with his powers and his hair turned into a fluffy mop - she’d laugh if she weren’t so worn out.
They lay him down gently on the twin bed closest to the bathroom and Grover uses the last of his dwindling energy to play something soft and lullaby-like on his panpipes, sending Percy off into a dreamless sleep. Annabeth carefully rolls him on his side like she learned in First Aid, so he doesn’t choke on his own sick in the night. Grover pulls the comforter over his shoulders and they count his even breaths. One. Two. Three…
Her thoughts wander, trying to process the day. Maybe if she had read more about nosoi they wouldn’t be in this situation. Maybe if she had thought of a better plan he wouldn’t have gotten sick. Maybe if she knew more first aid she could actually help him instead of hovering nervously and praying to every god that might listen. Including Poseidon, not that she’d ever tell her mother about that. Please, she thinks to herself, Please, if you love your son at all, don’t let him die. Not like this. Not now.
Grover seems to sense her worries because he puts a grounding hand on her shoulder. “Are you going to sleep anytime soon?” It's not really a question. Annabeth shakes her head silently, unable to tear her eyes away from the sleeping boy.
Grover nods as if he was expecting that and goes to lay down on the other bed. Within minutes, he’s asleep. Annabeth breathes a sigh of relief. She knows he wants to talk to her about her…thing with Percy, but she’s glad they’re not having that talk tonight. She doesn’t have the emotional capacity for that right now.
Preparing herself to hold vigil all night, Annabeth drags a chair next to the bed. Even though Percy seems to have stabilized after the ambrosia and the shower, she’s still irrationally afraid that he’ll stop breathing in his sleep. The only way she can hold that fear at bay is by watching him slowly inhale and exhale. She realizes this might be a bit creepy in another context - watching her best friend sleep - but after the day they’ve had, the life they’ve had, she thinks she’s allowed.
Annabeth runs her hand over the comforter, anxious for something to do with her hands. Her eyes fall on her open satchel lying on the dresser, where the emerald eye is now peeking out, watching her knowingly. She wants to throw it against the wall, let it break into a million pieces for what it cost them, but then this would be all for nothing. She just tucks it back in her bag, again wondering what Percy saw in his vision. What could have made him look so scared?
As she watches him snore, she’s suddenly reminded of an old childhood memory, one she hasn’t touched in years…
It was one of her few happy memories with her father. She was about six and came down with a really bad case of strep. She remembers the irrational terror that her throat would close up and the awful, wet coughs that left her lightheaded and exhausted. To a six-year-old it felt like a death sentence.
And her dad, who normally couldn’t be torn away from his studies at the university, who would go to work in a blizzard, actually took the day off. Just to take care of her.
He read to her all day, brought her soup, fretted over her temperature, and Annabeth remembered thinking, even in her feverish state, that it was the best day ever because she had her dad all to herself.
There weren’t many good days after that. But that memory she tucked away, in the huge labyrinth of her mind, ready to be pulled out whenever she needed some comfort. Like now.
She smooths over Percy’s damp curls and he leans into her touch, mumbling something unintelligible (it almost sounded like her name, but she brushes it off).
“C’mon, Percy,” she whispers his name like a prayer. “You’ve fought the mother of monsters, you took down the god of war in single combat, you returned Zeus’ master bolt - you’re the most infuriatingly stubborn and stupidly brave boy I know so you can’t die now. You just can’t.” She’s practically begging at this point, but she doesn’t even have the energy to be ashamed. She almost lost him today. The weight of that thought is inescapable, like a chimera sitting on her chest, like a gold trap swallowing her, like an Asphodel root ensnaring her. She hugs her arms to herself, choking down the lump in her throat.
She wonders how this boy, who she couldn’t stand a month ago had now become the center of her universe - her favorite person, her greatest weakness.
Crush, a voice in the back of her head whispers, but it’s not just that. A crush is someone who you like the idea of. Percy is someone Annabeth would die for, plain and simple. She’s not sure if there’s a word for that.
She tries her hardest to stay awake, but finally the events of the day catch up with her, and she rests her head on the bed, slipping into a fitful sleep.
She’s running, from what she’s not sure. Thalia is ahead of her and Luke and Grover are behind her and they’re crashing through the forest, tripping on roots as the ground rumbles underneath them. She curses her short legs. Whatever’s following them roars and an army of monsters bursts through the tree line - more monsters than she’s seen in her entire life, more than they can possibly fight off. She shakes, feeling nothing like the brave hero Luke tells her she is, and every bit like the little girl she wishes she weren’t.
“Luke, take them and go! I’ll hold them off,” Thalia roars, raising Aegis high above her, looking everything like a daughter of Zeus should - fierce, unforgiving, electrifying. Annabeth should be terrified of her, but she just wishes Thalia would stop and hold her, tell her everything will be okay.
“No!” Annabeth screams but someone’s holding her from behind in a vice-like grip, dragging her away.
“Take care of each other,” Thalia says, sad but resigned. Then she charges at the monsters, except it’s not Thalia anymore, it's Percy. And as the lightning strikes him and roots start shooting out of him, all Annabeth can do is scream and scream and -
She shoots awake, breathing heavily.
It’s morning. For a second she forgets where she is, until she sees Percy’s sleeping form, snoring softly. Right. The motel. She looks back at the other bed but Grover is gone and for a moment she panics, until she sees the note in front of her in his blocky handwriting.
It reads “Ran to grab some supplies from the convenience store next door. If I’m not back by 9:30 please come find me. -Grover” She checks the time. It’s only 8:45 so he should be okay. Annabeth rubs at her puffy eyes, groaning from her uncomfortable sleeping position.
Just then, Percy stirs, his blue eyes blinking open blearily.
“Why do I feel like I’ve been run over by a herd of pegasi,” he croaks. She’s never been more relieved to hear him cracking jokes. He has drool on his chin, which normally she’d tease him about but considering he almost died yesterday, she lets it go.
“Probably because you spent the night recovering from stage 3 pneumonia,” she replies dryly. She has no idea what he actually had - she’s not a doctor after all and magic illnesses often defy diagnosis - but it was definitely serious enough to get him hospitalized under normal conditions. But demigods are never normal, she reminds herself bitterly.
Percy winces, rubbing at his dry throat, and she hands him a glass of water which he takes gratefully. “Small sips,” she reminds him. She doesn’t want him upsetting his stomach again.
“Yes, mom,” he says with an eye roll, and Annabeth freezes, suddenly remembering the events of the previous night in vivid detail. Percy looks at her in worry and she schools her face back to something she thinks is normal.
“We’ve already been to the Underworld once this summer - don’t you think twice might be overkill?” she deflects, and he nearly chokes on his water. She winces as he’s sent into another coughing fit.
When he regains his breath, Percy looks away sheepishly. “Probably. I don’t think my uncle would be very happy to see me so soon.” Annabeth hums in agreement.
She takes him in, with his terrible bed head and sleepy smile and she again thinks about how close she was to losing this. The thought makes her chest clench painfully.
Summoning all her courage, Annabeth reaches forward and grabs his hand, no longer clammy and cold, but warm and soft and alive. He looks back at her, eyes wide. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she says softly, in an out-of-character display of vulnerability. She feels like she owes it to him though, after she saw him at his worst last night.
“Me too,” he says, squeezing back. And then, because he has to make everything a joke, he says “Imagine how embarrassing it would’ve been if I did die though.”
Annabeth sends him a glare that would normally stop her enemies in their tracks, but Percy just prattles on, waving his free hand around for emphasis, “Here lies Percy Jackson, Hero of Olympus, bested by the common cold.''
Annabeth isn’t sure if she wants to laugh or strangle him. She compromises by flicking his arm. “That was as much a common cold as a stab wound is a little scratch,” she says gruffly, tracing his lifeline with one hand. She likes the way their hands look together. His, stubby and pale - hers, deft and brown.
He huffs, dropping the pretense. “What…even happened? It’s all sort of a blur after we defeated those noses.”
“Nosoi,” she corrects absentmindedly. The memory loss isn’t a good sign, but she’s secretly grateful he wouldn’t remember all the gory details of his illness last night. It was hard enough for Annabeth and Grover to watch him be in so much pain. He doesn’t need the firsthand trauma.
So, she explains what happened, editing details every now and then. She describes how he suddenly collapsed (“Thanks for telling us you were deathly ill, by the way”), how they dragged him to the motel, how they tried to bring down his fever and had to push him in the shower (she omits the part where he started hallucinating). She sees him thumb his new clothes anxiously. “Grover helped you, I hope that was okay” she says quietly, and he nods in relief.
“Wow,” he blinks, when she finishes her story. “So much for an easy quest.” You have no idea, Annabeth thinks to herself.
Percy takes a deep breath. “Also…Thanks for taking care of me. You and Grover,” he says, looking anywhere but at her. “I don’t remember much, but I do remember feeling…safe. And I’m sorry if I said or did anything embarrassing last night.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I was pretty out of it.”
Annabeth gazes at him sympathetically. Memories from the night before crowd her head - holding Percy as he sobbed and called out for his mom, feeling absolutely powerless as she looked up at Grover with hot tears running down her face. She pushes the thought away. He would hate knowing they saw him in such a vulnerable state, even if it was nothing to be ashamed of.
“No, you were surprisingly well behaved for someone two seconds away from death,” she says, carefully nonchalant. “You even insisted on making sure I was okay, even though you could barely stand. You’re very stubborn, you know that?” Percy lets out a surprised laugh, and it's so nice to hear him laugh, even if he sounds more like a dying cat at the moment with his congestion. Her thumb rubs his knuckles without her permission.
The door latch clicks and she and Percy both jump, hands flying apart, before relaxing when Grover pokes his head through.
“Hey! You’re awake!” he cries out excitedly, dropping his grocery bags on the floor and rushing to the bedside. “You really gave us a scare last night.”
Percy opens his mouth to apologize, but Grover just shushes him. “None of that. You’re okay now, that’s all that matters.” Annabeth nods firmly in agreement.
Percy looks at them gratefully, eyes a little misty. She knows he has trouble accepting help, has trouble understanding that they care about him - but that’s why they’ll always be here to remind him. As long as the three of us are together, none of us are going to be alone... Grover’s words from their previous quest echo in her ear.
Grover tugs the two of them into a group hug on the bed - the position is a bit awkward and Percy’s hair itches her nose and her back still hurts from sleeping in a chair, but right now?
There’s nowhere else she’d rather be in the world.