Archive of Our Own

In the weeks after the Battle of Half-Blood Hill (as the Ares kids dubbed it), Annabeth would only remember the aftermath in sensory snapshots, all the details lost to the static of shock.  

She would remember the singe of smoke the air, stinging her lungs. It curled up from everything Thalia’s lightning touched, like a beacon of death emanating from Percy and from Thalia herself. 

She would remember the rumble of the heavy foot falls of the retreating army echoing in her bones as she lay sprawled out on the ground.

She would remember the clanging armor of campers cheering, bashing metal weapons against their chestplates in a symphony of victory. But the sound was dull and distant beyond the ringing in her ears. 

She would remember the panic devouring all the oxygen in her body as she waited for Percy or Thalia to stand up, but neither ever did. She didn’t even have the air in her lungs to scream, although that didn’t stop a hoarse sound from wrenching itself out of her. In the liminal space between victory and recovery, Percy, Annabeth, and Thalia were bound to the ground while the other campers celebrated around them. Annabeth couldn’t reach either of them, but she needed them more than oxygen. She would remember that brief minute where she thought they were both dead. That pain hurt worse than any arrow in her shoulder. 

The celebrations didn’t last long though. It was probably a brief few seconds between Thalia and Percy falling and the surge of campers rushing to their aid, but to Annabeth, shock and fear stretched those few seconds into an eternity. 

Annabeth didn’t black out after that, but she might as well have, for all she remembered. She knew that Clarisse and Grover had helped her up and carried her to the infirmary, but all she remembered was her overwhelming desperation to get to Percy and Thalia as they faded from view. She might have thrashed. Clarisse might have yelled at her. She might have aggravated her arrow wound, but none of that was important. Percy and Thalia were still down, limp bodies vanishing behind a crowd of campers. She wasn’t even sure which one she wanted to run to. It didn’t matter, ultimately, because the only place she ended up was the infirmary.

She was pretty sure she did actually black out when an Apollo camper removed the arrow from her shoulder. There was only so much pain her body could stomach, even with an incredible pain tolerance built from years of living at camp. 

By dusk, the ringing in her ears faded. The sea of hazy static that stretched between her and everything real finally shallowed out into something she could wade through, coming back into her body and the present moment. 

She was sitting in a plush, velvety chair in the corner of a private room in the infirmary. Thalia and Percy lay on two cots. The evening sun, thick with a drowsy shade of gold, filtered through the sheer curtains and illuminated the sleeping figures of the two most powerful demigods alive. Not that they looked alive. But they were safe. Dust particles danced over them like sprites casting healing magic. It was almost peaceful. If it wasn’t for the blood splattered and smeared over Percy’s face, Annabeth might have believed it was peaceful. 

Outside the cracked door, she could hear the clamors of Apollo’s children running around from injured camper to injured camper. The room itself felt like a muted bubble in the haze of the post-battle chaos. A wooden tray covered in gauze and antiseptic sat next to Percy’s bed haphazardly, like someone had meant to clean the blood off his face but had to rush off. 

Annabeth pushed herself out of her chair, and immediately bit back a gasp of pain. Only then did she register that her arm was in a sling. A thick roll of bandages wrapped around her shoulder and chest. She’d eaten ambrosia–she could still taste the camp smores flavor on her tongue–but she guessed this was the Apollo camper’s way of reminding her not to use her shoulder until it was fully healed. 

Forcing her breathing into an even pattern through the throb of pain, she made her way to Percy’s bedside. With her good arm, she poured antiseptic wash left by his bed onto a cotton ball. She picked it up, reaching to brush the blood off his face, but paused, hovering right over his cheek. 

Was this too intimate? Too invasive? He was asleep. Chances were, he’d never know she’d cleaned him up. But what if he did wake up? What if he caught her? Something about the stillness in the golden air trapped her in amber, afraid of what might come after this moment. 

Percy’s head was turned ever so slightly towards her. If his cerulean eyes fluttered open, they would be looking right at hers. His brows were furrowed slightly, like he was either deep in thought or in pain. A purple bruise was starting to blossom around one eye. Annabeth had spent all summer stunned by how much older he looked, but here, now, he looked so young. Just a beaten up child caught in the crossfire of a centuries old war. Annabeth’s stomach twisted for him. He looked so tender and raw like this. Utterly vulnerable and already half-broken. A foreshadowing of her worst nightmares, when he was completely broken and lost to a place darker than sleep. 

Annabeth swallowed back bile. The thought alone almost made her run from the room right then and there. 

But instead, she steeled herself. 

Annabeth wasn’t a healer. She was a daughter of Athena, not Apollo. She was made for war and cold, calculating decisions. She could fix plans and buildings, but she would never be able to learn to fix a person. People were complicated, a map of blood and muscle, but also feelings and desires that Annabeth would never be able to parse out into a memorizable diagram. And Percy was made of more feelings than most. If Percy broke, she would never be able to put him back together again. 

But for now, she could at least ease his pain. 

With a featherlight touch, Annabeth ran the damp cotton pad over his cheek, cleaning off the brownish smear of blood. She did it again and again, until the pad was caked with dirt and blood. Then she started a clean one. She did this over and over, falling into something adjacent to a trance, tracing the curves of his cheeks, jaw, and nose in a gentle, repetitive motion, like an artist studying the lines of a sculpture. He almost reminded her of an ancient Greek statue, chipped and damaged and frighteningly still, save for the barest rise of his chest. He was almost glowing in the sunset light. And all the while, she was careful to never, ever let her bare skin brush his, the near-reverent contact staved off by the cotton pad always between them. 

Just as she finished, a small boy, who must have been no more than ten years old, stumbled into the room with two tall glasses of nectar. He skidded to a stop when he saw Annabeth, clearly not expecting another presence in the room. 

“Oh. Hi,” the boy squeaked. 

Annabeth smiled. She remembered what it was like to be at camp at that age, surrounded by so much violence so young. This was a new face too, so the poor kid must be overwhelmed. She tried her best to appear nonthreatening. 

“Hi. Is that nectar?” She asked softly. 

The boy’s head bobbed up and down enthusiastically. “For Percy and Thalia. Is this the right room? I’m still leaning my way around.” 

“Yeah, you’re in the right place. Here,” Annabeth beckoned him over to Percy’s bedside. 

The boy heeded. He set the glasses of nectar down on the bedside table and glanced at the unconscious patient. He was barely tall enough to see over the bed. 

“Is that Percy Jackson?” the boy stage-whispered, eyes going wide. Something about his earnest expression and mess of blonde hair reminded her of a younger Percy. Although this kid’s hair was much lighter, the shade of cornsilk. 

Annabeth chuckled. She couldn’t believe Percy was already gaining a reputation amongst the younger kids at camp. If only they knew how many times she’d seen Percy fall on his face. That would quash their reverence real fast. 

“Yeah.” 

“The son of Posiedon, Percy Jackson?” 

“The one and only.” 

“Wow,” the boy whispered. 

“My name is Annabeth. What’s your’s?”

The boy’s eyes somehow widened. “You’re Annabeth?! I’ve heard of you!” 

“You have, have you?”

“Y’all are famous,” the boy said, nodding sagely as if seeing Annabeth and Percy was the most important part of his day. “My name is Will. I’m new here.” 

“Nice to meet you, Will. Thanks for bringing nectar.” 

“No problem. Are they gonna be okay?” Will’s brows furrowed, and Annabeth noted that Percy had competition for the best puppy eyes in camp. 

I don’t know, she thought. But that’s not what you’re supposed to say to reassure a ten year old who’d been thrown into the deep end. “Yeah. They’ll be just fine.” 

Will nodded, satisfied. “I gotta go help my siblings more, but I’ll bring Percy some bandaids as soon as I can,” he promised. 

“Thanks, Will.” 

Will scurried out of the room, a blur of bright blonde hair and orange camp shirt. 

Annabeth’s smile fell, the weight of it suddenly heavier than she could bear. 

She looked back at Percy, fiddling with the hem of her sling. He hadn’t moved an inch throughout all of this. She’d never seen him so still, even in sleep. It was disconcerting. 

Annabeth sighed. She hated the way her heart ached, like it had paused beating, straining in anticipation until Percy woke up. Thalia too, for that matter. After six years of building defenses of brick and barbed wire around her heart, she thought pain like this would be a thing of the past. But Percy had an unnerving way of chipping away at her defenses. He had an awful habit of saying just the wrong words that wedged into the cracks in her armor like arrows blessed by Apollo, staining them with a warmth that melted her down. And then Thalia came back, and everything just crumbled. She was back to square one, back to being seven years old and utterly vulnerable. 

Annabeth had to leave this room. The longer she stayed, the more she could feel herself falling apart. When Percy and Thalia woke up, she couldn’t be like this anymore. She needed space and time to reconstruct her walls, or else one of them–maybe both–would destroy her completely. 

She walked out of the room, pausing only for a moment by Thalia’s bedside. But she couldn’t bring herself to touch Thalia’s hand. An irrational fear itched at the back of her mind that her fingers would fall right through Thalia’s, as if the other girl was an illusion or a dream. Or a ghost.

Annabeth left, shutting the door behind her. 

The next morning, she went back. As painful as it was to see them laying there as if dead, it was even harder to stay away. Everywhere she walked, it felt like a tether was tied around her heart leading back to that room in the infirmary. With every step she took farther away, the tether tightened and tugged. 

So she went back. Just to check on them. 

She was healed enough to shed her arm sling, although her shoulder still ached dully under the bandages. She snagged a bite of ambrosia that morning before she went up to Percy’s room.

Grover was there, trying to coax a sip of nectar into Percy’s lips. His face was uncharacteristically somber. When he saw Annabeth enter the room, his expression softened, lingering on hers. 

“How are they doing?” Annabeth asked, schooling her face into something passive, or at least close to it. 

Anyone who walked in could see that Grover was the steadfast protector of every demigod in the room. It was written all over his face, which bore more distress than Annabeth had ever seen on the already-anxious satyr. The way he was hovering over the dead-looking bodies of Percy and Thalia, standing in the space between their beds, was almost motherly with the tender care he was giving them. The scene tugged at her heartstrings. She felt a little like she was seven again, waiting for her protector to tell her it's all right. A lump rose to her throat, but she tried not to show it. 

Gods, she felt so helpless lately. She hated it. She wished she could cut this feeling from her body and leave it out to wither in the sun. 

“Fine, I think. They’re still alive. I don’t think Percy is in pain, either. I’m pretty sure I would feel it.” 

Annabeth nodded slowly. “Good. That’s good.” 

“Yeah.” 

Grover was quiet for a moment. Then, “How are you doing?”

Annabeth just shook her head. She couldn’t safely answer that question without crying. 

Grover set the glass of nectar down and trotted over to Annabeth. She just stood there like an idiot, paralyzed by more emotions than she could name, all of which she was trying desperately not to feel. It wasn’t working out well for her. Grover pulled her into a hug, holding her gently so Annabeth could pull away whenever she wanted. But she didn’t. She sank into his arms, cheek tucked against the soft fabric of his shirt. She hugged him back, balling swaths of his jacket into her fists. She didn’t make a sound, but tears began to run down her cheek all the same. 

“I don’t know what to do, Grover,” she whispered into his shirt. 

“Nothing. Rest. Heal. You don’t have to do anything.” 

“I know, I know, but I just…I should be thrilled that Thalia’s back. I am thrilled. But I’m so, so scared too. Getting her back only to watch her go unconscious…it feels like a bad omen. Like I only got her back just to lose her again. I can’t lose her again, Grover. I can’t lose either of them.”

“You won’t.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“You’re right, I don’t. I just have to have faith.”

Annabeth almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Faith wasn’t a concrete concept that Annabeth could measure and situate into the formula of her life. If she hadn’t seen proof of the gods with her own eyes, Annabeth would not be a religious girl. She believed in what she could see and what she could touch. What she could see is that hard work earned you respect, which was close enough to love. What she could see was her loved ones vanishing, one after another. What she could see was Thalia and Percy laying as if they were dead. Faith felt foreign amidst the concrete evidence of her life.

“I don’t know if I can,” she admitted. 

Grover pulled away so he could look Annabeth in the eyes. “That’s okay. But you can’t let the fear eat you up inside. Percy and Thalia wouldn’t want that for you. I don’t want that for you.” 

Annabeth pressed her lips into a thin line. Easier said than done. But Grover was looking at her so earnestly, so she wiped the tears from her eyes and nodded. “I’ll try.” It wasn’t a lie. But the truth of the matter stayed tucked behind her weak smile; Annabeth didn’t know how to live without the fear that ate away at her. She clung to it like a survival skill, because for the longest time, it was one. 

“How are you handling everything?” Annabeth asked, desperate to turn the conversation away from her. 

Grover whistled softly. “Wooo boy. Uh. Well. I found the golden fleece, which is definitely a good thing. Luke’s army didn’t invade camp. Thalia is back. But now, the two most powerful demigods of a generation, who are both also my friends, and also possibly the child of the Great Prophecy, are unconscious. Which is a lot to process. I know everyone sees Thalia and Percy like some grand saviors or even ticking time bombs, but I just see my friends. I just see a pair of lost kids. I don’t want either of them to be involved in the Prophecy, but I know I can’t stop it. All I can do is keep them as safe as I can throughout everything that happens next. But for now, I’m kind of in stasis, you know? I’m just waiting for someone to wake up, and then everything will feel real. And until then, I’m trying to look on the brightside.” 

“I can relate to it not feeling real,” Annabeth agreed. “I haven’t seen Thalia in six years, but she hasn’t aged a day. It feels like she stepped out of my dreams, not out of a tree.” The strangest part about it, which she didn’t mention to Grover, was how young Thalia looked. The Thalia she remembered was tough and tall and indomitable, but unconscious on the cot, she looked like a kid. She and Percy both did. They didn’t look old enough to destroy Olympus, no matter what the prophecy said. 

“Yeah…” The pair gazed as their sleeping friends, the weight of the new reality settling on their shoulders. These were their friends. And one of them would bear the weight of the Great Prophecy. 

“We probably shouldn’t dwell on it, though. It’s not healthy for the spirit,” Grover said, chipper tone straining against the tension in the air. “Come on, let’s go get lunch!”

Grover and Annabeth spent the day together, from lunch to eating strawberries down at the dock and skipping stones. They talked about everything that had happened to them this summer, exchanging their two sides of the quest. Grover told her about all he’d encountered in his search for Pan, which was put on pause until Percy and Thalia woke up. She told him about her adventures readjusting to the mortal world during the school year. They even laughed a few times at some of their crazier stories. 

“You know, it's strange we never talked like this before,” Annabeth said after a while. 

Grover shrugged. “I was always off scouting for demigods. And no offense, but you’ve never exactly been forthright. Some demigods need their protector every step of the way, but you were always so self-sufficient. You never asked for my help. So we just never had the chance.” 

“I wish we had. We’ve been through so much together. Besides Percy and Luke, I think you might know me better than anyone.” 

 “Well, hey, I’m always just an iris message away if you ever need me. I’ll always be your protector, Annabeth. And I’ll always be your friend, if you want me. You never have to be alone.” 

Annabeth bumped her shoulder against his. “Thanks. That means a lot.” 

“Of course. And thanks for looking out for Percy this summer, while I was away, by the way.” 

A rueful smile tugged at Annabeth’s lips. “He looked out more for me than I did for him, if I’m being honest.” 

“From what I’ve heard, and from what I’ve felt–” Grover rested his hand over his heart “–you both looked after each other. Don’t discredit the effect you have on him, Annabeth.”

Annabeth looked down at her legs, swinging over the dock. She pressed her lips together. As if she could ever discredit that. Percy made it so obvious with every stray glance that Annabeth was crumpling under the knowledge of it. He had an effect on her too. And she wished he didn’t. 

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” 

“Why?”

“Because Percy has no defenses. He’s so infuriatingly vulnerable.” She thought about the sirens and what Percy had said about just seeing her, that elusive comment with a meaning she was still piecing together. He claimed she’d saved him too, but the implications of that haunted her like a promise that soon, Percy’s ghost would haunt her just the same. “He’s going to get himself killed if he keeps this up. He has the survival instincts of a fish.” 

Grover thought for a minute. “I’ve only been connected to Percy through this empathy link for a few weeks now, but I get the sense that Percy isn’t thinking a whole lot about surviving. He’s thinking about living.” 

“It’s the same thing.” 

“Is it?”

Annabeth wouldn’t know. Her life had been pure survival since the night spiders swarmed her room in the middle of the night when she was barely old enough to read, and nobody else had helped her. 

“He won’t be living if he gets himself killed being all stupid and heroic,” Annabeth grumbled. She picked up another stone off the pile they’d collected on the dock and flung it into the lake. 

Grover chucked at that. “No. But I wish you luck if you’re gonna try and stop him.” 

Annabeth groaned. “I hate him.” 

“Do you?”

“Yes!”

“I’m not convinced.” 

“Grover, I will push you into this lake.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll shut up. I’m just saying.” 

Annabeth shoved his shoulder lightly. Grover laughed. 

After a moment of staring at the late afternoon settling over the lake, Annabeth spoke up again. “Do you think either of them has woken up yet?”

“We can go check, if you want.” 

Annabeth paused. She wanted to. But right now, a greater part of her was wary. Being near Percy was a little like sailing near Charybdis. The moment she saw him, she’d be sucked into a spiral she would never be able to leave. She’d be trapped by his kind words and steadfast devotion until one of them drowned. The tether between them was taut, but she needed to cut it entirely. She needed to stop this and rebuild her defenses before one of them damaged the other in an irreparable way. Maybe Percy being unconscious wasn’t a bad omen, but rather, a blessing. A chance.

She shook her head. “I shouldn’t.” 

“Okay. I’m probably going to go, though. I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Yeah. See you at dinner.” 

The next morning, Annabeth did not go back to the infirmary to check on him. She was rather proud of herself for it too. It felt good to set some boundaries between herself and Percy. If she put up walls, she’d have something to brace herself on if Percy fell. The safety of distance was comforting. 

But it was isolating too. 

Instead, Annabeth went to the training arena to run drills with her dagger as soon as the sun was up. The nectar and ambrosia had sealed over her shoulder wound by now, but the muscle was still stiff. She eased herself into the exercises, loosening the muscle. 

She tried (mostly unsuccessfully) to put Thalia and Percy and the Great Prophecy and omens of death out of her mind. If one of them woke up, she trusted that the whole camp would be buzzing with the news within minutes. 

It was going on two days now, and the entire camp seemed to be holding their breath for when the two forbidden kids would meet. She’d heard whispers over meals of people taking bets on who would win in a fight, which Annabeth thought was ridiculous. Just because their fathers hated each other didn’t mean they would. Sure, they were both hot headed, and stubborn, and protective…hm. Okay, but Percy and Annabeth got along even though their parents hated each other. And Percy and Thalia were nothing like their fathers anyway. Everyone was being so dramatic. 

Annabeth drove her dagger through the dummy right to where a human’s heart would be, grunting in frustration. 

“Whoa, what did that dummy ever do to you?”
Annabeth whirled around. Clarisse twirled her spear at the edge of the arena, grinning her signature crooked and cocky grin. 

Annabeth brushed a braid out of her face and turned back around. “Nothing. It’s just training.” She yanked her dagger out of the dummy with more force than necessary. She twirled it through her fingers, matching Clarisse. 

“In my experience, people don’t train with that expression unless they’re imagining a specific face on the dummy.” 

“I’m not imagining anyone,” Annabeth huffed. It was technically true. 

“Let me guess. Percy?”

“No.” 

“Really?” Clarisse deadpanned. 

Annabeth took a few steps back and flung her dagger like a throwing knife at the dummy. It lodged in the center of the dummy’s chest. 

“What do you want, Clarisse?” 

Clarisse shrugged, planting the butt of her spear into the dirt. “Nothing I guess. You just looked like you could use the company out here.”

Annabeth stared at the other girl incredulously. “Since when do you care?”

A tendon in Clarisse’s jaw ticked in annoyance. “Since you and Percy helped me on my quest. Listen, I don’t really know how this…friend stuff works. But I’m trying. So just…work with me here, okay?”

The corner of Annabeth’s lip tugged up at that. “I can understand that, yeah.” She walked over to the wall of training weapons and grabbed two wooden short swords, tossing one to Clarisse. Neither of them usually fought with a sword, so they were evenly matched. “Wanna spar?”

Clarisse grinned. “See, now you’re speaking my language.” 

The two girls exchanged parries and blows, running through the drills they’d both been trained on for years. This wasn’t the first time they’d sparred, but it was the first time there was something more than a begrudging respect behind their motions. Under the early morning sun, there was actually something almost like camaraderie between the girls. 

“How’s Jackson doing?” Clarisse asked, deflecting Annabeth’s wooden blade. 

Annabeth shrugged as Clarisse repeated the drill back on her. “I don’t know. I haven’t checked. Fine, I assume.”

“Yeah right,” Clarisse scoffed. “There’s no way you haven’t checked on him. You two are practically joined at the hip. Like, a step away from wedding rings type shit.” 

Annabeth scrunched her nose. “Ew, Clarisse. And we’re not joined at the hip.”

The other girl raised an eyebrow, deadpan. “Sure, and I’m not a badass. Look in a mirror, Miss Brainiac. You and Jackson are like, the world’s best team.” 

“We’ve only known each other for a year.” 

“Okay, and?” 

“And we barely know each other. Questing together is convenient. Like you said, we make a great team, but we’re back now. I don’t owe him anything.” Annabeth winced at her own lie. She owed Percy more than she could keep track of by now. Which is another reason to keep him at arms length, until she can even the scales. Then she wouldn’t feel so tethered to him anymore. 

“So, you’re what? Avoiding him?”

“I’m not avoiding him.” 

“So why haven’t you checked on him?”

“I’m just putting a little distance between us, that’s all. Just so Percy doesn’t get the wrong idea about our relationship.”

Annabeth disarmed Clarisse. She tossed down her own sword in a huff and slumped on the bleachers on the side of the arena, taking a break. Clarisse sat down beside her. The older girl leveled her with an intense, skeptical gaze. 

“Is there, like, a reason you’re lying to yourself, or are you just an idiot?” 

Annabeth shot her a withering gaze. “Don’t you, of all people, lecture me on friendship.” 

Clarisse actually smiled at that, whip sharp. “You might have a point there, Chase. But listen, this entire summer, I thought I could do it alone. I’ve spent my whole life pushing others away, pushing others down, to make sure I was at the top. And you know what I learned this summer?”

“What?” Annabeth humored her in a dull tone. 

“I learned that I can’t do shit without backup. Without people that I trust. You and Percy trust each other. That’s worth something. You’re smarter than me, Annabeth. You should be able to see that pushing him away is a stupid strategy. Alone, we lose. We just do. Doesn’t matter how much we’ve trained, how good we are representing our parents, because our parents? They don’t fucking care.” Clarisse laughed bitterly, and Annabeth wondered what Ares had said to her to make her so spiteful.  “So you gotta rely on your teammates. ‘Cause that’s all we got.”

“But that’s a faulty strategy too. Because if you get too close to someone and they go down, your emotions are compromised. You can get sloppy,” Annabeth argued. 

“No strategy is perfect.”

“Athena’s are.” 

“Yeah well, you’re not Athena. You’re Annabeth. And you’re a hundred times better than some cold-hearted goddess.” 

It was Annabeth’s turn to let out a short, bitter laugh. “Nobody is better than the gods, Clarisse.” 

“I am.” A stormy look entered her eyes. Her voice quieted. “My whole life, I wanted to be like Ares. Perfect, ruthless, all that stuff. But then I met him, and I realized that I’m nothing like him. And I don’t want to be.” 

“Don’t let Ares hear you say that,” Annabeth joked. 

Clarisse smiled. “Somehow, I have a feeling he’d be okay with a little defiance.” 

“Not Athena. Anything that doesn’t fit her perfect mold is useless.” 

“Then fuck her and her stupid mold.” 

Annabeth cringed, praying her mother wasn’t listening. 

Clarisse continued. “Chase, you’re literally the farthest thing from useless that exists. If Athena doesn’t see that, then fuck her!”

Annabeth stared at Clarisse for a long moment, a weird sense of deja-vu stirring inside her. “You know, you sound a little like Luke.” 

Clarisse glowered. “I would never bow down to Kronos. He’s even worse. Just because I hate the gods doesn’t mean I’m cowardly enough to be pushed around by that asshole.” She noticed Annabeth flinch, and quickly added “No offense. I know you and Luke we’re tight.”

Annabeth nodded slowly, fidgeting with her hands. “Yeah, we were. And then I lost him. Just like I lost Thalia. That’s why I’ve been avoiding Percy. In my experience, friends aren’t always allies. Sometimes, they’re liabilities.” 

“So you’re just going to take the coward’s way out and run away?”

Annabeth shot up, fire in her gaze. “I’m not a coward.”

“The Annabeth Chase I knew sure wasn’t. But this one…ehh.” Clarisse teetered her hand back and forth. 

“I’m not.”

“So prove it. Go to him. Trust him. Or else, you’re both as good as dead already.” 

“It’s not that simple,” Annabeth argued. 

“Why not?” Clarisse shot back. 

“You know why not! You and I know better than anyone else in this camp that love is a death sentence. Friendship is basically the same as holding a dagger to your heart. Those aren’t luxuries demigods get to have. We’re not kids; we’re soldiers fighting our parents’ war. There are stakes here.” 

“What if I don’t want to be just a soldier anymore? What if I want to be something more?” When Percy said things like that, he always sounded so hopeful, but Clarisse just sounded angry. 

A year ago, Annabeth would have balked at the idea. She would have insisted that there was nothing “more,” that serving the gods was the highest honor. But after two summers with Percy, she wasn’t that sure of anything anymore. 

“I don’t know how,” Annabeth admitted, gritting her teeth. 

“Jackson knows how,” Clarisse pointed out. 

“And he’s an idiot.” 

“I don’t disagree. But maybe he’s onto something. He’s wiser than that stupid face of his lets on. You could learn from him.” 

Annabeth snorted. Clarisse was right about him, although Annabeth was too stubborn to admit it. But she did want to understand Percy’s perspective on things. She wanted to know what it would be like to fail without the fear that it would cost her everything. She wanted to know the security of unconditional love that Percy had with his mother that made everything so simple for him. She wanted to know what it was like to have his stability and his confidence in her. But what would those lessons cost her?

Annabeth sighed, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “It’s just not that simple. Percy and I…You wouldn’t understand.”

Clarisse’s expression shuttered. “You’re right. I don’t. I’ve never been as close to someone as you and Jackson are. So I don’t get why you’re throwing that away.”

“I’m not throwing it away, I’m just…shifting it.” 

Clarisse sighed. “Annabeth, be real with me. Do you care about Percy?” 

“I mean…” Annabeth sighed. “Yeah. Yeah I do.” 

Clarisse just stared at her with that familiar stubborn fire, waiting for Annabeth to continue. So she did. Hell must be freezing over, because she was actually opening up to Clarisse.

“Listen. He’s saved me more times than I can count. He’s changed the way I see the entire world, both mortal and mythical sides. He’s just so…” Annabeth struggled to find the word. “Loving. I don’t know how to handle it. I’m terrified and confused and at the same time. I’ve never felt more safe around a person, which automatically makes me feel like I should run because I’ve never felt safe like that in my entire life. I’m just… so confused.” Annabeth put her head in her hands, pressing the heel of her palm into her temple. “I thought putting some distance between us would make things easier. But I don’t know what I’m doing, Clarisse.”

Clarisse didn’t try to hug her or anything like that. She just gazed out over the arena as the morning light stretched the shadows over the dirt. 

“And have you told him any of this?”

Annabeth snorted. “Gods no.” 

“Maybe you should.” 

“Are you hearing yourself? Who are you?” Annabeth asked. 

Clarisse smirked. “Fair point. I don’t know what I’m doing either. I don’t know why I’m giving you advice. You two are like a fucking soap opera…” Her voice softened into something gentler, more teasing. “Did you know he lost his shit when you were on the Andromeda?”

“Really?” 

“Yeah. He was ready to murder anyone who stepped in his way. Me included. The way that guy cares for you…” Clarisse let out a low whistle. “He’d move mountains for you, Chase. That’s the sort of love they write fairytales about, the kind that breaks curses and saves lives and shit. That’s not the type of love you should give up. The Annabeth Chase I know isn’t a coward or an idiot. After everything we’ve been through this summer, I don’t think you should run from him. We’re stronger together. Okay?” 

Annabeth sighed. She hated that Clarisse actually had a half-decent point. Was she being a coward? Would she and Percy actually be safer if they worked together? She wasn’t sure. She was never sure of anything these days. But Clarisse was right. She cared for him. He cared for her. That was undeniable. Was it worth fighting for, even in the risk that somebody might die? The selfish side of Annabeth said that yes, yes it was. Because even if Percy was volatile and devoted and dangerous, at some point over this summer, he’d also begun to feel like home. And Annabeth was getting tired of constantly running away from home. 

Clarisse stood up, holding out her hand. “Up for another round of sparring?”

Annabeth gave her a crooked smile and accepted. The two picked up their swords and started at it again until noon.

Her relationship to Percy felt like walking the tightrope of the tether between them, always in danger of falling to her death. But maybe, if she built connections with others, like Clarisse and Grover, then she could fashion herself a safety net. Maybe she was actually stronger with a team. 

We take care of our own, Thalia always said. For a period of time, Annabeth thought that meant self sacrifice, which Annabeth didn’t want any more of. But maybe, taking care of her own didn’t mean sacrifice, but rather, support. She thought again about the sirens, and how Percy had suggested that they saved each other, that they both needed to be there in order to have survived. She’d been thinking about that day in terms of Percy’s rash actions, his self-sacrificial patterns repeating Thalia’s story, but maybe she was going about this all wrong. She wasn’t seven and helpless anymore, even if she felt like it sometimes. Maybe if they kept saving each other, they’d both come out alive. 

She decided she would check on Percy again this afternoon. She still hadn’t quite figured out her strategy, but maybe she’d ought to give Clarisse’s plan a shot.