Chapter Text
Time wasn't something Percy Jackson noticed anymore.
Not in the usual way. There were no sunsets here, no stars to guide him, no ticking clock or passing seasons. Just the crushing weight of Gaea's presence—ancient, patient, hateful. Her whispers were the wind in this barren void. Her eyes were the stones, the roots, the soil that sometimes bled.
And for years, Percy had fought her.
Alone.
He didn't age here. Not in a meaningful way. But he felt his soul growing older. Worn like a stone smoothed down by the tide. Riptide was a constant weight in his hand, his tearful screams etched in the celestial bronze. And Gaea? No matter how many times Percy defeated her, she never truly vanished. She'd mock him through the rocks, crack the earth beneath him, bury him under landslides, only for him to claw his way out again. Again. And again.
There were many times Percy yearned for death. He was certain Gaea kept him purposefully alive—she never once defeated him. It was like she was toying with him. Knowing that no matter how many times he sank her into the soil, she'd always come back.
Even in defeat, Gaea was always the winner.
It was stormy gray eyes that kept Percy conscious. Annabeth. The memory of her laugh, the way she'd look at him after a long day. How she smiled at even the most innocuous of things. It was her that kept him alive, barely. But the echo of her voice was a dull ache, growing fainter with each passing battle.
Then, one day, Gaea didn't come back.
No roots rose from the ground. No whispers. No illusions to taunt him.
Just... silence.
Percy stood at the edge of what passed for a cliff in this cursed, timeless realm, staring into the formless dark. For the first time in forever, he didn't have to fight for his breath.
It was over.
He didn't believe it, not at first. But the silence held. No matter how long he waited, nothing changed.
He collapsed onto one knee, his hands grasping at the solid earth. He wasn't sure when he started screaming. Nor could he recall when he started crying. But he remembered punching the earth until his knuckles bled.
Only when his tears were gone and his blood dry did he finally stand back up to walk.
He didn't know how he returned to the mortal realm. There was no dramatic rift, no magical door. Just one step, and suddenly, he was falling—
Through stars.
Through pain.
And then... light.
-Ω-
Five years.
A lot can change in five years.
The New York streets still smelled like exhaust and burnt hotdogs. Still crowded, noisy, with horns that never stopped to rest their bell. But the moment Percy appeared in Times Square, he knew the world had moved on without him.
A lot had changed.
People walked by him like he wasn't there. Maybe they saw someone else. A hallucination. A ghost.
He almost wished he was.
He didn't go to Camp Half-Blood first. He went home.
His mom had aged. Not by much, but enough that it made something inside him crack. Paul was steady like he'd always been. And there was somebody new. A girl. A sister. Estelle. She was already walking and talking, awkward and sweet and brilliant. She stared at Percy like he was a forgotten dream. Like he was a story she only heard when the moon glowed at night.
And he cried again.
When he finally let go of their loving arms, his eyes wandered to a memory on the mantle. A framed picture of three kids on Half-Blood Hill. Grover, Annabeth and himself. All smiling. All whole.
"Percy…" His mom gripped his shoulders, something trembling inside her. "There's something you should know about Annabeth."
Percy froze.
"She was here almost every day, Percy. She mourned you. She tried to wait. But after a while, Percy… She couldn't."
He stared blankly at the walls as his mom's arms tightened around him. He braced himself for the worst.
"She joined the Hunt," his mom whispered, impossibly soft.
A vow of maidenhood. No romantic entanglements. Eternal life, unless in battle.
It made sense. Annabeth had always needed purpose. Structure. A way to keep from falling apart.
But it still felt like dying.
-Ω-
Camp Half-Blood welcomed Percy back with a hero's feast.
They made space for him in the pavilion. Told stories of how his 'sacrifice' had helped hold everything together. He was grateful for their smiles, for their laughs. But in the end, none of it mattered as much as she did.
He found her waiting for him at the place where it all began for them.
There was a somberness to the moon's glow as it reflected over the lake. Like it already knew of the heartbreak that was sure to follow.
"Seaweed Brain."
"Wise Girl."
He almost didn't say it. The words caught in his throat. But she was still Annabeth, still standing by the lake where they first kissed, arms folded like a letter. She was just as beautiful as the day he left her, her blonde hair organized in a neat braid that hung over her shoulder. Her silver circlet caught the moon, reflecting on the edges of her hunter's garb.
"I thought you were dead," Her eyes went glassy for a breath as she blinked it away. Annabeth Chase never cried unless she meant it. "Even Hades couldn't find your soul. But, I waited. I waited a long time, Percy."
"I know."
Silence. The kind that said everything they didn't want to say.
Then she moved. Just a step. Close enough for him to see the way the silver threads in her jacket shimmered with enchantment, how the vow of Artemis had woven itself into her being.
"I love you," Annabeth said.
Percy looked at her—really looked. The sun spots that decorated her cheek, the way her lips curved even when upset. And the silver. The silver that glinted like a brand, like a lock.
"You can't," Percy blinked away hot tears of his own. "You're not allowed to say that now."
"I know," she said back. "But I do."
His voice cracked. "You took the vow."
"I know."
"It's forever, Annabeth."
"I know that too." Her voice cracked too. "But I don't care. Not right now. I just—I needed to say it. I needed you to hear it. Even if it's just this one time."
"I love you too." Percy's breath left him in a shudder. "You're all I ever thought about."
Annabeth reached up and touched his face. Her hand was warm. Real. "Percy..."
"It's true." He covered her fingers with his own. "When I thought I couldn't survive another day… it was your face I saw. Your laugh. I didn't keep fighting for Olympus. I fought for you."
The distance between them evaporated. She leaned her forehead into his chest, weeping. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be." He held her tight, trying to believe that everything was going to be alright. "You had to survive too."
His next words came from a grief that wasn't sharp, but dull, deep. The kind that sits in your ribs and refuses to move. "But what happens now?"
Annabeth pulled back slightly, her voice barely audible. "You can't leave the Hunt… unless—"
"—unless you die," he finished.
And there it was.
More tears slid down her cheek. "I didn't want to join, but I didn't know how to keep going without you. I thought maybe the Hunt would give me something to hold on to."
"Did it?"
"Not the way you did."
And the lake glimmered, and the wind moved, and their hands still held each other's like they were seventeen again, like time hadn't wrecked everything they built.
"Will you remember this?" he asked.
She smiled bitterly. "Every day."
They didn't move closer. They didn't kiss like they once had, as that story was over now. Short as it may have been, neither wanted to give it a new ending. Terrible things happened to those that disobeyed the Hunt.
"I should go," she said at last, staring into his eyes for what felt like the last time. "Gods, vows be damned. I'll always love you, Percy Jackson."
-Ω-
Immortality.
Percy had denied it once before. He never once believed he'd ever be offered it again. It was an easy choice to make back then. But that was back then, and this was now.
The King of the Sky stared down at him from his throne. "For your service," Zeus intoned, "and the years lost to the fight none could win but you."
It wasn't a choice this time. Not really.
He had nothing else left to lose.
If he couldn't have Annabeth, he'd at least be able to watch over her.
Forever until the end.