Chapter Text
An awful crack in Percy’s ankles drag his face across the ground.
“Grover!” Percy screams, “Annabeth!”
Hands and hooves grapple after him.
A cascade of scratches flash upon his face.
Oh, Percy.
It stings. It burns. A thousand pricking needles laced with itching salt. He tries to cry, but a mouthful of dust comes up dry on his tongue. Tears well up in his eyes, but it may just be to clear away the ash. He is marred. He is wounded. There is an aching in his stomach, and he can’t quite seem to breathe. It hurts. It hurts and he can’t get it to stop. He’s clawing at the ground. He’s choking on dust. He can’t get a hold of anything. For all he paws for, his fists come up empty. Sharp gravel remains stitched in his nails. It hurts. Mama it hurts.
“Percy!”
It hurts. It hurts. He can feel the flesh of his skin being flayed as he is dragged across rocks. He can feel his bones pulling apart with the tug of gilded shoes. All Percy can do is close his mouth not to scream.
“Percy! Kick off your shoes!” Annabeth shouts desperately.
She already knows it’s too late.
“I-I can’t control them!”
That is painstakingly obvious.
In a last attempt, Percy’s hands cling to the ledge of the pit. He wants to pull himself up— Percy doesn’t want to die. He wants to pull himself up.
Percy doesn’t want to die.
They say your best moments pass before you die.
“Grover! Go! Go get help! Percy I’ll get you out—” Annabeth’s voice is laced with strained panic.
It aches, it aches. His arms tell him quietly that there is the brave option to just give out. To let go. Percy is hungry. Oh, he’s starving. And it hurts. It hurts so badly. And something down there promises to soothe his itching soul.
Annabeth is crying.
Grover is too.
Percy might be crying.
Percy really wants his mom right now. He can smell the cookies coming from the oven. Annabeth’s never tried his mom’s cookies, has she? She’ll have to try them sometime. Luke too. Percy will ask his mom if they can invite them all for lunch one day, Grover can lead them.
They’ll all have lunch together.
“Annabeth..”
They’ll do it, one day.
“No! You are not dying on me, Seaweed-brain! Grover over there—”.
“It’ll be okay, wise-girl. .. will….promise me you’ll get my mom out.”
“What? Percy I’m not- ”
“get my mom out. Protect Grover. Live—”
Annabeth ignores him, “Shut up kelphead! I’m going to get you out!”
“promise.”
“yes! I promise! I’ll do-“
It hurts.
So with that last thought, Percy lets go.