Chapter Text
"So, what did you want to tell me earlier?"
She can see it on his face and she thinks this might be it. She barely knows what he has gone through in their week spent apart, but she knows something has shifted. He's never looked at her like this before, like he'll die if he's forced to look anywhere else.
"I… I thought you were joining the Hunters."
"I was."
Percy stares at her, then blurts out in a rush, “I was gonna tell you not to. I couldn’t stand you not being here. Here with me, and… being away during the school year is hard enough, so you not being here at all, and there’d be no chance for us—” He stops himself.
“No chance for us,” she repeats quietly. The corner of her mouth ticks up.
“I…” he chuckles lightly, eyes dart to the ground. His head does a little shake, a squint of his eyes. “I really like you. Like a lot. Like a concerning amount.”
Her light smile stretches into a grin, internalized by a warm fuzziness in her chest. Percy’s watching her closely with a red face, processing what her smile means. He begins to smile, too, and she feels silly.
"And I don’t know, I thought maybe you might feel the same? Well, it’s not like you have to like me a concerning amount, just maybe not in the, like, same way you like Grover—"
"Percy," she laughs.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I do. A lot."
He exhales like he's been holding his breath for minutes. "Oh. Oh, wow. Um, cool. That's—I'm really glad."
"Me too, Seaweed Brain." She tilts her head, trying not to laugh at his fluster. "You okay over there?"
"Oh, yeah, so." He clears his throat. "I can be your boyfriend, then?"
"Yes, if that means I can be your girlfriend."
Percy nods profusely. "Yeah, yes. Super cool. Did you want to dance? Our first dance got kinda interrupted."
Annabeth nods. She takes his hand.
The song is romantic. Not the cheesy 80s ballad at Westover Hall, but actually soft. Sweet, tender, romantic instrumental. His hands are sweaty, but hers are, too. She wants to do it. It's the perfect opportunity for something she'd try not giving much thought to over the last two years.
She takes note of her feet. Yes, they are a part of her body, swaying carefully to not step on Percy's toes. She takes note of her hands. Yes, they are a part of her body, clasped around one of his and over his shoulder. She doesn't shake. It's calm with him. A quiet sea.
As the number comes to a close, Annabeth pulls Percy even closer and leans up to capture his lips in a kiss. She doesn't care who's watching. She can feel his intake of breath, knows he has relaxed when he leans in, too. They break after a quick moment, laughing. A bit of disbelief, a bit of relief, and a lot of happiness.
Annabeth will block the thoughts out for now. The ones upset with Thalia, terrified for Luke, drowning in worry about Percy's fate. This could be something good, for the both of them.
The ground swallows Nico di Angelo whole, then closes with a deep rumble. Only one thing is louder: the realization that this little boy could be Percy's way out of the prophecy.
"We have to tell Chiron," Annabeth says.
"No," Percy says.
"What do you mean, no?" Grover demands, eyes wide.
"No one can know Nico is a forbidden child," Percy says. "It'll just cause more fighting between the gods."
Annabeth shakes her head. "But he's not! He and Bianca were born before World War II, before the oath."
"Then it won't be a problem!" Grover says. "We have to tell someone. We can't hide this from the gods forever."
Percy swallows. The action figure Bianca died for is in his hand. She should have been here to give it to Nico. His responsibility.
"Not forever," he says. "Just until I'm sixteen."
Annabeth inhales sharply. "No."
"Beth…"
"Percy, please," she says. "This means the prophecy doesn't have to be about you. Please."
"It will be. I choose the prophecy."
Annabeth covers her mouth with her hand and lets out a sob. "No, you can't! Don't say that!"
"I have to," Percy says. "You think I can push the prophecy onto this kid after what happened? I can't let that happen to him!"
"Percy, he said he wants to see you dead," Grover protests. "Think about what you're doing."
"I don't need to. You won't change my mind."
Annabeth stares at him, eyes wide. Her hands are shaky. "You have to change your mind. You have to."
"I know it's going to be dangerous," Percy says, taking a step closer so he can take her hand. This is okay, right? "But it's the right thing to do."
"No, it's not."
"Why not?" he asks. Annabeth lets go of his hand, steps back. Percy's gut drops. "Annabeth."
Another tear streams down her cheek. She opens her mouth, then closes it.
"Annabeth," Percy presses. "What is it?"
She turns on her heels and runs deeper down the woods. Percy panics—what did he do? He barely spares Grover a glance before he takes off after her.
Percy curses himself for not being faster. She's always outpaced him, even now that his legs are longer. He's panting, so frustrated that he wants to cry. Why is she running away from him? What did he do wrong? Shouldn't she be happy he's doing the right thing?
"Annabeth!" he screams. If they keep up at this pace, he'll lose track of her, especially in this darkness. "Stop! Please!"
Annabeth slows to a halt, looks over her shoulder, then drops at the foot of a tree. She's sobbing into her hands when he reaches her.
Percy kneels next to her, frustrated. He's been her boyfriend for just a few hours and he already sucks at it.
"Hey," he says. "I'm sorry. Can—can you tell me what's wrong?"
Annabeth looks up at him and shakes her head. Her chest heaves as she cries.
"Is there something I can do?" he presses.
"N—no."
"Come on, there's gotta be." Percy tucks a braid behind her ear. "It's kinda my job now, right? 'Cause I'm your boyfriend?"
Annabeth bites her lip, shakes her head at the ground. "No."
A pause. "No?"
"It was a bad idea."
Percy's heart breaks in half, then those two pieces split again. "What do you mean?"
"I mean—" She sobs. "We—we shouldn't. It's not gonna work, we can't."
"That—Annabeth, that doesn't make any sense," Percy says. "I mean, I thought you—"
"No, Percy, it isn't that."
"Then what is it? I—" Percy looks away and breathes deeply. He might cry, and he doesn't want her to see it. "Annabeth, please, I really like you. I swear I can be a good boyfriend."
Annabeth sniffles, shakes her head. "I promise it's not that."
"It's the prophecy, right?" he asks, and she nods almost imperceptibly. "We'll figure it out. You're the smartest person in the world, and I'll do whatever you want. You don't even have to tell me what it is."
"Percy…"
"Please, Beth." He takes her hand. This time, she doesn't let go. "I really wanna be with you. More than anything in my whole life."
She looks down at their joined hands. "Really?"
"I swear."
"I really wanna be with you, too."
Percy exhales a shaky breath. "Really?"
"Yeah, Seaweed Brain." She leans her head against his shoulder. Slowly, Percy smiles. "It could be fine, right?"
Could be? Percy's afraid to ask what she means. If he does, she might change her mind. "Yeah. It will be."
Annabeth barely speaks on the ride to Manhattan. She'll have to call her father soon to tell him she isn't moving to San Francisco. Percy has 604 days left to live. She refuses to live across the country from him.
Percy lost his key, so they have to wait a moment for Sally to open the door. Annabeth says maybe she's asleep. Percy says it's only 9pm, she isn't an old lady.
The lock switches and Sally pulls her into a hug. "Annabeth, honey. I'm so glad you're okay."
Her face warms. "Thanks." Her brain supplies me too, but that wouldn't be true.
"Stop smothering her, Mom."
Sally squeezes her once before letting go. They enter the dimly lit apartment, shutting the door behind them. Her eyes pass between Percy and Annabeth. "Did you two suddenly age thirty years?"
"What? Oh." Percy's hand raises to graze over his gray hair. "Just some godly stuff."
She makes the face that Percy's described a few times before. When mother and son can't ignore the godly side of him. "Alright. Tell me all about it later. I hope you're staying the night, Annabeth."
"Um, I don't have to."
Percy makes a noise. "I literally said you could, that's why we're here."
"Apparently, you never asked your mom."
Sally's eyes move from her son to Annabeth. "Percy knows you're welcome here any time, and now you do, too. Get settled in, I'll have dinner for you soon. You're on the couch, Percy."
"Aye aye," he says, turning to Annabeth when his mom walks into the kitchen.
Annabeth realizes she's never been inside Percy's home before. It's warm, in color and feel, in the blankets on the couch and family photos on the wall. She'll have to get a closer look at the baby photos later.
"So, there's clothes in my dresser," he says. "My room's literally right there. Middle for pajamas. Drawers. They might be wrinkled, and I'm sorry my room's really messy—"
"It's fine, Percy."
He nods once. Annabeth realizes she's the one whose turn it is to move, and steps inside the room that is literally right there, closing the door. Yeah. Messy. There are so many things, she doesn't know where to look first.
She hears Sally's voice through the wall, sounding like something close to teasing. "…you wanna tell me?"
"Mom!" Percy snaps.
And that's the end of that.
Annabeth opens his drawer to find a complete mess. She's almost appalled, but isn't surprised as he's stepped out of his cabin many times in wrinkled fabrics.
She finds basketball shorts she'll have to roll a few times and a t-shirt. Holding his clothes gives her pause. For the first time, she feels like a girlfriend. And she has to show herself in front of Sally. Annabeth kind of really wants to leave.
She's being dramatic. Her winter apparel comes off in a heap, falling beside a pile of laundry (dirty? clean?) at the foot of his bed. Percy's clothes smell like him, and Annabeth wonders if it's really just a niche laundry detergent scent.
She looks at herself in the mirror by his door. A strange, fuzzy feeling flutters through her stomach when she sees the way his clothes fit over her, imagining him wearing the same ones. It's like a good kind of anxiety. Weird and comforting.
Then, there's something sticking out his mirror. Photos and postcards, a couple of polaroids. Annabeth steps closer to examine, and that strange feeling multiplies by five. A photo of her, taken at Camp last summer. She remembers Percy taking the camera from Silena, shoving it in Annabeth's face, but she looks embarrassingly endeared to the boy behind the lens. Annabeth's heart grows exponentially.
Percy freezes when she steps out of his bedroom. "Hi," his voice cracks. "Is, are that—you fine, are those good?"
Annabeth tugs on the hem of her graphic tee, resting near the tips of her fingers. "Yeah, I picked them."
"I know, but. Okay, good."
"Hey, Annabeth," Sally calls, "I only have tomato soup, but I can make you something else."
Annabeth panics. She knows why she gets so frazzled around Sally, but it really sets her off balance. "Oh, no, that sounds great."
Percy lights up. "You know what that means."
"What?"
"Grilled cheese," he says, like she should've obviously known that.
Sally is very emotionally intelligent, Annabeth gathers. She speculated that after getting to know Percy, but it's nice to see it in person. Sally bids them both a good night and leaves them to it. By that, Annabeth watches as Percy lights up the stove and works his magic. He talks the whole time, making it incredibly easy for Annabeth to forget that just yesterday, he gave himself a death sentence, and just two yesterdays, Luke was kicked off a cliff and survived.
They sit in the dark of the living room, sleep creeping up after their meal. Annabeth falls asleep with her head on Percy's shoulder and a blanket thrown over them. The next morning, it takes about an hour for her blush to simmer down after Sally's teasing looks.
It's a Tuesday, but Percy is allowed to stay out a little bit later today because it's a special day. He's been preparing for a whole week: he picked out and bought her gift (a necklace), made sure his nice outfit wouldn't be dirty (the polo he swore he'd never wear and the pants with no holes in them), and wrote her a letter (three drafts before he put it to ink on Sally's nice stationary).
He tortured himself over this letter because he wasn't sure what would be okay to say. They haven't even been dating for two full months, so is it too much to say everything that comes to his head when he sees her? That he thinks that she's the prettiest girl on the planet, and the smartest, and the sweetest, and the coolest? That he thinks about her every second of every day and misses her the second she's gone? That she's the first thing on his mind when he wakes up and the last one when he goes to sleep? Most importantly, is it okay to say that the fact that all of this probably means he loves her with a capital L?
If he's being honest, he does. After the quest ended, when he got her back and it all started to feel real, Percy felt like his life had started anew. There was a bit of an awkward transition from friends to dating, where he was still figuring out what he was allowed to do—he can kiss her, sure, but under what circumstances? Where? Can he hug her whenever he feels like it, hold her hand just because?
Somehow, and blessedly, the answer is yes. Not only is it allowed, but Annabeth wants him to. She wants to hold him, kiss him, take his hand, too. She smiles more, now, which is why Percy doesn't fight any of his romantic instincts: he'll tell her ten times a day that she's the sweetest and most beautiful girl in the world. Flowers when he can afford them, kisses all over her face, no, you're cuter. Sometimes he'll look at himself and go, whoa, what the fuck am I saying, because how crazy is this? But then she giggles and he forgets about it all over again.
So, yeah. A definite yes on the L word. He's scared to come right out and say it and make an ass of himself. There's no way she likes him that much, is there? Sometimes he thinks no one's ever felt this way about someone else, because if everyone did, the world wouldn't work. Everyone would be too in love to do their jobs and drive their cars and take care of their kids.
But he thinks that he should tell her something. Annabeth is amazing and she deserves to be told as much. And even if she doesn't feel like her heart's beating out of her chest every time they kiss, Percy really does think she likes him. Maybe even the other L word, though he gets it if she doesn't—again, it's only been less than two months.
So, when he was writing the letter, he decided that he's going to tell her. It would be weird to sign it Love, Percy (which seems like the right move for a Valentine's Day letter) without saying it out loud. He's gonna wait for the right moment, make it sweet and romantic, and say it: he's in love with Annabeth Chase.
Except he's at a high risk of blurting it out because, holy shit, Annabeth looks beautiful. This is the second time ever he's seen her in a dress, the first being the dance at Westover Hall, and he is no less in awe. This time she seems cozier, with a big jacket to keep her warm and boots that go up to her knees. A smile blooms on her face when she sees him turn the corner, and Percy's heart rate doubles.
She rushes over to him and he catches her, spins her around. She's so cute he might die.
"Hi." She presses a kiss to his lips, then another to his cheek.
"Hi. You're so pretty."
Annabeth hides her face in the crook of his neck, like she does when she's flustered. "Thank you."
"I like your dress."
"Thanks. You look very handsome."
Percy blushes. "Um, thanks."
Shit, he's really, really in love with her. A lot in love. It's kind of a problem.
Annabeth tucks one of her arms into Percy's jacket and around his waist, and with her free hand, she pulls a little paper bag out of her pocket. "Happy Valentine's Day."
"You didn't have to—"
"Well, you got me something, didn't you?"
Percy smiles and pulls out his own little bag. "Guilty."
They exchange gifts. He puts her necklace around her neck and she gives him a million thank you kisses. Annabeth gives him a vintage edition of this Spider-Man comic he's been looking for and receives another million kisses.
The date takes place at this cafe that's also a restaurant that's kind of fancy and expensive, and for which you need a reservation. They're just here for coffee and sweets, because Percy will cook dinner, hopefully without his mom's help.
"I have something else," Percy says when the waiter walks away with their order.
Annabeth raises an eyebrow. "What?" Her grin widens as Percy reveals the letter. "No way."
"What?"
She, too, pulls out an envelope. "We're, like, psychically connected."
"One hundred percent," Percy laughs. He's kind of thought that for a couple of years.
Annabeth slides her letter across the table and takes Percy's. Her smile outshines every light in the room and he decides he can't go any longer without telling her.
"Also, um," Percy says. He tries to swallow his nerves. "I wanted to say that being with you is, like, the best thing that's ever happened to me, like, you genuinely make me forget my life is shit sometimes. And you're the smartest and most beautiful and the best person in the world, and, um, I love you."
Annabeth's already tearing up by the time he finishes. She doesn't say anything for a moment or two, just smiling softly at Percy, and he feels like he might have a heart attack.
"I love you, too," she says finally.
Percy's grin feels like it's taking up his whole face. "Really?"
"I mean, duh," Annabeth says. "I'm kind of obsessed with you."
"Oh, my gods, me, too. Like, completely, like, I can't ever stop thinking about you," he blurts.
Annabeth giggles. "Me neither. You're so cute."
"You're cuter."
"Shut up."
She's getting flustered, and holy shit, she's the most adorable thing in the entire fucking world. Percy wants to hold her extremely tight and never let go. It's kind of unfair he can't be with her all day, because—well, look at her. Look at that smile.
To keep it on her face, he tells her again, "I love you."
She says it back. Percy thinks she's unlocked a part of him that actually knows how to be happy, really happy, a part that was hidden away before. If Annabeth Chase really, actually loves him, how bad can life really be? Percy keeps telling her, again and again, for the rest of the day, and he vows to himself that he will do it every day for the rest of his life.
While Annabeth isn't the biggest enjoyer of the Chick Flick/teen movie genre, and really doesn't enjoy most movies in general, she's come to understand a thing or two about teenage cliches.
First is wearing her boyfriend's hoodie. She didn't know that was a thing until a classmate rolled her eyes at her. Second, that time she had to hide a bruise on her neck, but, look, that was an accident! In her defense, he's a good kisser.
Boyfriend Percy is a distraction from Doomed Percy, which can be quite easy when he insists on being a corny romantic. He gets her flowers for every date (she's been pressing the petals in a book), he never misses an opportunity to call her beautiful (she gets shy every time), and he's at the top of his class for making her laugh (she has full on snorted a few times!). Those are high highs.
The lows are when they're apart. When he isn't by her side, it's an example of what life will be like after he has died.
Annabeth has thought about telling him the prophecy many times before. She remembers the night he collapsed on the Big House porch, drenched and dazed, and she knew. There was something different about him, this magnetic pull. She has been vindicated since.
Percy has this thing where he doesn't like being told what to do. That doesn't bode well with prophecies. He makes his own decisions and clears pathways, even if the paths were first constructed by the Fates.
And if he were told that a cursed blade is supposed to reap his soul? He'd find a way to twist it around, say prophecies aren't set in stone and he'll figure it out. He won't get it. His theoretical hope would be useless here. There is no good that can come from his false positivity.
And when Annabeth isn't thinking about Percy, through all the good and bad, she's thinking about Luke. When she drifts off in English class, walks back to her dorm, eats dinner. Luke is a question that has been cut off in the middle of asking it.
She has no one to share these wonderings with. Percy is out of the question. He has made it abundantly clear that he wishes Luke was dead. Thalia left. A prayer to her mother causes more harm than anything else.
Annabeth was at her father's for two days when she opened the door to see Luke staring back at her. She tries not to think about it.
Percy thinks the only reason Annabeth is still letting him push her around on the skateboard with his hand on the small of her waist is because she likes it when he holds her. He's not complaining. He could barely contain his excitement when she asked him if he could teach her how to skateboard.
"I'm so glad we don't live in fucking suburbia and my mom has to drive us to our dates, y'know?" Percy says, takes the board when the reach the street corner.
He looks at Annabeth when she doesn't say anything. She meets his eye and nods enthusiastically. Percy frowns.
"What's wrong, baby?"
"Nothing. Show me the flip one more time."
Percy blinks. Annabeth gets like this sometimes, quiet and a little weird (not in a bad way!), which is different from how she gets when she's really sad. He can never pull a proper explanation out of her, if any at all.
Annabeth notices him watching. "Well?"
"I can show you the flip, but you won't be able to do it for a while," he says, getting on the board.
"Why not?"
"Because you literally started learning twenty minutes ago, you can barely go in a straight line yet."
She pouts at him. If Percy could overdose on cuteness, he would drop dead right fucking now.
"Fine," she says. "Then let me go again."
Percy pushes the skateboard in her direction with one foot, then walks to her side. "Watch your feet," he says. "You want help?"
Annabeth shakes her head. She gets on the board and angles her feet the way he showed her, a hand on his shoulder to keep herself steady. She lets go after just a moment and pushes off.
Percy smiles as she skates down the road. She's taken to it pretty quickly (sometimes it feels like she's good at everything), and she even manages to do a clumsy 180 turn back towards Percy before finally losing balance and jumping off. She picks up the board on her way to him, clearly proud of herself.
"That was so good!" he praises.
"Thanks," she says, perking up her chin for a kiss. Percy complies gratefully. He gets to see her skateboard, and he gets a kiss? Luckiest guy in the world.
She goes back and forth a few more times before she gets bored. Percy does a few flips and she acts impressed, though it's not much compared to some of Percy's other tricks, like killing the Minotaur or holding up the sky. Whatever—she tells him he's cute and that's really all he could ask for.
Later, they put on a movie and she pretends to fall asleep on his chest. She does this when she doesn't want to talk, unaware that Percy has already memorized the way her breath changes.
Every weekday, Annabeth waits for the week to be over. She'll occasionally see Percy during school days, but weekends are guaranteed. They spend their Friday evenings and Saturdays together, and sometimes parts of Sundays if he convinces her he desperately needs help with his homework.
But as the weekend begins, so does this pit of dread in her stomach. Summer is creeping up and the labyrinth seems to taunt her. It's just—Annabeth knows it will be her. She knows there will be a quest and she knows if she isn't leading it, she's still going in. Another prophecy. She hopes to see Luke, but she won't like what she sees. He'll try and get near her again. Blame her, scare her.
And with the start of summer comes the end of it, which means Percy will turn fifteen and there's no going back.
"Annabeth?"
She jumps. "What—what are you doing up?"
"Nightmare." Percy fits through his window and sits beside her, carrying a blanket. "Are you okay?"
She nods. The blanket falls over her shoulders, covering them both. "Are you?"
"Yeah. Don't think showing up to an exam without a pencil is a godly omen."
Annabeth shrugs. She should've responded with a joke, the way Percy examines her face. He looks soft when he's just awoken, pink and puffy-eyed.
"Why are you out here?" he asks.
She shakes her head. The rust coating the fire escape digs into her skin. She'd never sat here without Percy before. It was nice, just breathing in and out, observing the eye's natural bokeh across the city. Before that, she was unable to fall asleep. It's somewhere around two in the morning.
His arm wraps around her waist, and Annabeth burrows into him. Percy's touch has always been a lifeline for her, since she first grabbed his hand in Charon's ferry, but the reciprocation of it is everything. Fifteen months.
He tucks a few thin braids behind her ear. "Annabeth, what is it? Whatever it is, I can help."
Her chin wobbles, setting off a burn through her nose and waterfalls of tears.
"No, you can't," Annabeth sobs. She buries her face in his shoulder. "I don—don't want you to die!"
Percy shushes her gently, his hand cradling the back of her head. "Hey, don't be scared. Everything's been trying to kill me for three years, and I'm still here."
"No," Annabeth bemoans. Her mind is buzzing and alive, hot tears dripping down her chin and a leaking nose. She doesn't know why it got so bad tonight. He's here, he's holding her, and he doesn't understand. The secret is eating her alive.
It's awful how much Annabeth loves being taken care of by Percy. Surely he doesn't enjoy it, and it's fine for now, but it will grow exhausting. But either way, he'll be dead by then.
Percy is a really good person. He'd never choose to leave her—his fatal flaw doesn't allow for it. Just more evidence that it is truly fatal, for him to suffer so that she doesn't have to.
Percy's sword hangs loosely from his hand, glowing golden in the darkness of the maze. He's alert when he hears footsteps, but relaxes when he recognizes them as Annabeth's.
"Why are you up?" he asks as she approaches. "My watch isn't over yet."
"Couldn't sleep." She sits on the ground next to him. Their knees bump together.
With his free hand, Percy takes hers. Her skin is cold to the touch. "Do you want my jacket?"
"It's okay."
"Maybe you'll be able to sleep if you're warmer."
He can see the bags under her eyes, even in the low light. She probably hasn't slept a wink since she got the prophecy. The worst part is Percy is almost certain she's not telling him the full story.
Annabeth could barely speak when she stepped out of the attic. Wouldn't look anyone in the eye. Wouldn't speak to Percy when he asked her about it later.
Destroy with a hero's final breath, she said was the last line. That's terrifying enough, because what else could that mean but death? What hero? This is Annabeth's quest, so could it mean her? The prophecy also mentions the child of Athena's final stand. The thought makes him terrified to so much as look away from her for too long.
Except he isn't sure that's really the last line. It's not like he's the most experienced at this, but he's almost certain there's supposed to be another line after that, one that rhymes. Breath, death—not that big of a leap. But if death is already written all over the prophecy, the worst part must be the rest of the sentence. That's what Annabeth isn't telling him.
"Beth."
She sighs and leans her forehead against his shoulder. Her silence is a request. Percy hates this, hates not being able to do what she wants, but it's too much. He feels like his skin is peeling off his body with the fear that she knows something will happen to her and isn't telling him.
"There was another line, right?" he asks, as gently as possible.
Annabeth's grip tightens on his hand. When did she start crying? One, two, five seconds, then, "Yeah."
"What is it?"
She shakes her head without looking up. "I can't."
"Why not?"
"Please, Percy."
Percy doesn't know how to feel. He's a little angry, and so fucking scared. He didn't think twice about coming here with her, and he doesn't regret it at all, but it doesn't make sense to hide this from him, especially if it's something huge. If she's in danger.
He shifts away so she can't hide from him anymore. "Annabeth, how is that fair? We're doing this together."
Her eyes widen at him, still filled with tears. Percy's right, he really thinks so, the prophecy says something will happen to her and she's not telling him.
His gut sinks all the way down to his feet. No, no, this can't happen.
"Annabeth—"
A growl echoes across the corridor, after the bend. Percy's up and running before he knows it, following the sound without knowing what monster it belongs to.
"Percy!" Annabeth screams, and her footsteps are already close behind.
His heart pounds in his chest. He needs to get to the monster before she does. He'll kill every monster by himself, he's the son of Poseidon, father of monsters, this is his fate, nobody's going to touch her.
The hellhound turns the corner and Percy charges at it. He slides across the floor and under its body with Riptide raised, cutting a gash in the monster's underbelly.
Percy is showered with monster dust. He quickly turns to look at Annabeth, who looks unharmed.
"Are you okay?" he asks, breathless.
"What the fuck are you doing?" she yells. Percy has never seen her eyes this wide. "Why didn't you wait for me?"
"It's fine, Annabeth, I killed it."
"What if there had been more than one?" her voice breaks. "What were you thinking?"
He was thinking that he is going to arm wrestle this prophecy, and he is going to win. He's supposed to make it to his sixteenth birthday, right? If the gods need him to save Olympus so bad, it's time to start pulling some strings.
Foolishly, Annabeth had not taken near death encounters before Percy's sixteenth birthday seriously enough.
"What, no! I'm not leaving you!"
"You have to. Someone has to tell Hephaestus what's going on and that someone isn't immune to fire."
"You're not immune!"
"Annabeth! It'll be okay, I promise." Percy's the one assuring her, with kind eyes and a small smile as fire and ash are seconds away from consuming them. Lose a love to worse than death, she thinks.
"I'm not leaving." Her voice trembles.
He doesn't back down. "I'm not moving until you do. And then I will die."
She whines and grabs his shoulders to pull him into a bruising kiss. "I love you. Please don't die."
"I won't. Love you."
She puts her cap on, but Percy's eyes don't leave her form. Annabeth backs away slowly, facing him, before running off when she hears the telekhines.
The tunnels are narrow and steep. She prays she doesn't lose sight of this spider before she reaches Hephaestus. Annabeth coughs and gags on the smoke, but the dripping heat lessens.
An explosion launches her forward, she doesn't know how far in the dark, but her ears are ringing. Her knees burn, surely scraped and bloody.
Percy. Wherever Annabeth is, she knows Percy was in what just happened.
She stumbles to her feet and turns in the pitch black, running into a wall of rubble. "No, NO! Percy!"
Annabeth coughs on her tears and the smoke. She isn't sure if she's back in the labyrinth, but she knows it won't let her get back to him.
Percy blearily opens his eyes at a roof that seems to be made of leaves. Is he dead? Surely not. It wouldn't still hurt this much.
The ocean is nearby. He tries to look to the side and winces. Unless his memory is tricking him, he got blown up in a volcano. How did he end up here, at this beach? Where is—
"Annabeth," he calls, but his voice barely comes out.
"Shhhh," someone says. Percy nearly jumps with terror.
"Don't…" he tries, but he isn't sure what to say. If this person means him harm, he is defenseless.
A girl appears above him, her smiling face hovering over his head. "Do not worry, I will not hurt you. Just be still."
"…what?"
"You were badly hurt, but I am healing you."
Percy swallows. He can barely feel anything but pain on his skin, but when he looks down at himself, he sees there is some sort of balm all over his arms, legs, and chest. He's wearing just a pair of pants which are not the ones he was wearing before. He freaks out a little—where are his clothes? Did this girl undress him?
Except she isn't a girl. She has this air about her, not to mention the beauty. Percy's pretty sure she's a goddess.
"Who's Annabeth?" she asks.
"Girlfriend," he supplies automatically, then regrets it. He shouldn't be telling anyone about Annabeth in situations like these.
The goddess smiles like the answer pleases her. "I am Calypso. What is your name?"
Fuck. Shit. Oh, no. Annabeth convinced him to read the Odyssey and this part particularly freaked him out, and now it's happening to him. Fuck. Does this mean Calypso is in love with him? That doesn't make sense. He hasn't even said anything to her. It doesn't matter—he needs to get the fuck out of here before her curse can kick in, or whatever.
However, his attempt to sit up is an utter failure. His entire body screams with pain and he feels lightheaded. Percy groans.
"No, no," Calypso says. She places a cold wet cloth over his forehead. "You are hurt, hero. Rest."
"No, I—I have to go."
"You are in no shape," she says. "Tell me your name."
Fuck, Annabeth's gonna be so upset about this. Should he lie? That might be stupid. Calypso's powerful and immortal, and he's no Odysseus right now. "Percy."
"Percy," Calypso repeats. "Really, you must rest. You will be better in no time, I will make sure of it."
"Maybe you could take me to the ocean? That helps me heal."
Calypso swallows, and after a moment, flashes Percy a smile that does not reach her eyes. "Later, when you are stronger, we can walk there together."
Percy sighs. "I, um, I really appreciate it, but I really do need to go. Annabeth's waiting for me."
Calypso furrows her eyebrows. "I don't understand. Is she your wife?"
Percy furrows his eyebrows. "What?"
"You said she was your friend."
"No, no, she's—" Percy blinks. He just told her Annabeth is his girlfriend. Shit—does Calypso not know what the word 'girlfriend' means? They probably didn't have that kind of thing the last time she was out of this island a million years ago. Maybe she thinks girlfriend means a friend who is a girl. "Um. She's—yeah, she's my wife."
When Chiron asks her exactly how she made it back to Camp, Annabeth doesn't have a clear answer for him. She remembers using the metal spider and saying something to Hephaestus. He said something back. She walked through a door, entered darkness, and the next thing she remembers is the Camp woods staring back at her.
Maybe it's as simple as that, but she can barely speak, let alone think about anything that doesn't revolve around Percy's state.
She sees Luke's face, telling her she'd lose a love to worse than death.
DAY TWO
Annabeth stands in front of Chiron's desk. It's taking much out of her to stand tall, shoulders back and a look of collectedness on her face. "I need to find him."
"My dear, the explosion was enough to awaken Typhon. If Percy is alive, which I would advise against believing, he is not amongst mortals."
Panic pulses once in her throat. "We're not among mortals. I'll go back in the labyrinth and search for him."
"Like Grover and Tyson are currently lost, searching for Pan?"
Annabeth has never felt more like a failure, undeserving of anything she has ever been granted in life.
"That isn't fair," she whispers frailly.
"Stay and recover. We will decide the fate of your quest in due time."
DAY THREE
Annabeth can't stand the looks everyone gives her. Pity, for the most part. She can tell they're reevaluating their perception of her. Strongest warrior at Camp, decorated quest-goer. Now, a failure who doomed her friends and killed her boyfriend.
Chiron warned her against having more than two quest mates, and now all three are gone. In the crevice of her soul that isn't occupied by despair, there is immense guilt.
She should've known. Last winter, a five person quest ended with three alive. What's the final count? Is Percy dead? Or is it Tyson or Grover?
No, no, no. She can't think this way. It's only been a few days, anyway. Hardly any time, especially where the labyrinth is involved. Only an hour or two have passed by for them.
You see, Annabeth believes a line of her prophecy has come true. But if it's worse than death, then it isn't death. It's… a disappearance? Some kind of stasis on the stairs between here and the Underworld?
Where could Percy be? She has a few ideas.
DAY FOUR
Throughout her morning spent shifting through textbooks and maps, Percy's argument rings loud in her head. It isn't enough to have studied the labyrinth.
The gods toss them around like ragdolls. The labyrinth is similar in the way it forces movement. Trying to make it work for them led Annabeth to this fate. Hubris, of course.
She didn't get any sleep last night. Who would she be to rest peacefully while her friends may be fighting for their lives? She tossed and turned in bed, then found a flashlight and pulled out four books. They aren't telling her anything, and the words are floating and glitching but maybe if she just keeps reading, she'll find the answer.
Annabeth could leave, she knows she could. But she'll stay. Not for the reason Chiron wants her to, though.
DAY FIVE
Annabeth wakes up at four in the afternoon. She scrambles out of bed, disoriented and off balance, searching Camp for any of her siblings. Malcolm's strolling to the dining pavilion, not a care in the world. Annabeth rushes up to him, pushing his shoulder to get his attention.
"What the fuck?" she demands. "Why'd everyone just leave me there, I have shit to do!"
"We all agreed you needed the sleep."
"That's not your decision! I could've… fuck, Malcolm!"
"You can't go back in there by yourself. Look what happened to Chris."
"That's—how is that for you to decide?" she cries. She notices a few people standing around, watching her. Annabeth feels very small and very alone. She wrings out her wrists and turns, in the middle of whatever bullshit Malcolm was spewing.
Familial concern, maybe, but Annabeth is trapped here with no support. The only comfort she'll get is having Percy in her arms again. No one seems to be of the opinion that that will happen again.
DAY SIX
The skin around her eyes burns. She's so tired of crying. A headache that hasn't gone away for days, red cheeks and nose, dark under eye bags. A new permanent state.
She rolls the heart pendent between her thumb and forefinger, running along the smooth metal.
The sea soothes and suffocates all at once. Annabeth couldn't handle the campfire tonight, just like every other night thus far. Her friends let her go without a fight. She wishes they fought her. Everything is so loud without Percy. He has a way of calming her when she's fired up, of firing her up when she's calm. The sea chooses rough waves tonight.
Does Poseidon know where his son is? Is he mourning him? Annabeth has only gotten herself out of bed a few times to eat, only so she can pray to any gods out there for mercy and maybe an answer.
Annabeth kicks off her flip flops and drops her clothes to the sand. She tugs at the straps of her swim top, untwisting the string. The late night breeze chills her to the bone, and the water is even colder. She thinks of Siren Bay and Percy's touch.
The icy bite of the water makes her jump. Annabeth runs in, slowing down as she descends lower, and dunking herself below.
Panic sets alive in her chest when she comes up for air. Like every nerve in her body has been frozen and set on fire. She forces herself to breathe, eyes glazed over, but the water isn't calm.
The current drags her out.
She thrashes around. Her foot scrapes on jagged rock, and she realizes this is dangerous. Panic races to her throat, but she already cannot breathe.
DAY SEVEN
Annabeth inhales deeply, and the smell of antiseptic hits her. Her head pulses. She groans.
"Oh, hey." Will's voice is muffled in her ears. "Can you state your name for me?"
She blinks slowly. The infirmary is so white. "Annabeth Chase."
"Do you know where you are and who I am?"
"Yes."
"Annabeth."
"Infirmary. Will."
He asks her a few more questions that tell her she has a concussion. Not too bad, given the look on his face as she answers. Will's poker face sucks, but he's new to official healing.
"Scale of one to ten, how do you feel?"
"I feel like the pain scale system is stupid."
"So not bad enough that you can't be rude."
"Four," she answers hollowly, unsure if that's how she really feels. A tear escapes from the corner of her eye, pooling in her ear.
"You've been out for almost a day. You have a concussion. Had several cuts as well but those are mostly healed. You're welcome."
Annabeth chews on the inside of her cheek so something can bleed without nectar.
He sets his clipboard down and pulls a chair to her bedside. "What were you doing out there?"
She stares at the ceiling. She wishes they had those doctor's office light covers she's seen on TV, with the stock images of fish or flowers. "Just swimming, Will. You don't need to put me on suicide watch."
"So, I don't really need to have this getup on to know that you're severely sleep deprived and undernourished."
"Malnourishment isn't visible in just a couple weeks, doctor."
"So you agree you haven't been eating properly?"
"On quests, you eat a sandwich and two bags of chips, if you're lucky. This isn't any different from when I was twelve."
"Well, you're not on a quest right now. You're at Camp, where we have three meals a day."
Annabeth rolls her eyes. "The current was rough and—" Her voice shakes, remembering Percy saving her when she was seconds away from drowning last summer, "and I'm not the swimmer I thought I was. And Percy might be dead, so forgive me for not acting very normal about it."
"I don't expect you to be. I'm sorry it's like this."
It. Her quest, her relationship, her life.
DAY EIGHT
When one has a concussion, there is nothing to do. You literally can't do anything. No reading, no physical activity, nothing.
Annabeth leaves the infirmary that afternoon in shame. It's strange if someone doesn't look at her. She walks up the steps to her cabin, pulls on Percy's hoodie, grabs her portable CD player from below her bed, and burrows in the sheets.
Percy's homemade CD for her is still in the player. She holds the thing like a treasured stuffed animal as Robert Plant's high pitched vocals drown out her nauseating thoughts.
DAY NINE
DAY TEN
DAY ELEVEN
Annabeth feels exceptionally weak. The very act of standing drains her. She tries to remember what she's eaten over the last week. Nothing that has satisfied her. Just thinking about food makes her want to throw up.
A warm body beside her own, a hand on her blanket-covered hip. "Annabeth, sweetie."
She musters up enough energy to turn Silena away. "I'm trying to sleep."
"Okay."
Silena curls into her side. Annabeth cuddles into her, holding her hand by her shoulder.
"You'll get a kidney infection," Silena says softly. "I hear they hurt like a bitch."
"Okay."
Annabeth drifts off, warm.
DAY TWELVE
Annabeth rotates her dagger in her palm with her vision glazed over. The bronze glow makes her eyes water. She brings the pad of her pointer finger to the tip of the blade. Imagines plunging it into her gut, watching thick red spill out of her, and dissolving into nothing.
She can't. Percy didn't give up on her last winter, so she won't give up on him. The thing is, he had reason to believe she was alive. Annabeth doesn't have a shred of evidence that he has survived this.
Lose a love to worse than death.
Lose a love to worse than death.
Lose a love to worse than death.
She begins crying the second she steps inside Cabin Three, and falls asleep that way, too, in his bed.
DAY THIRTEEN
The cabin door creaks open and closes. The weight on the bed shifts, someone sitting by Annabeth's hip. Elyse's voice is soft. Annabeth wonders if her siblings debated who would be sent to tell her, like they've been switching who provides her meals like prison guards. She's so embarrassed.
"Chiron's asking for a shroud to be made." Annabeth says nothing. "We can make it, if that'd be better."
Annabeth nods once. She adjusts her hold on Percy's pillow, closer to her body. If she positions it—and herself—just right, she'll be able to imagine it's him wrapped around her instead.
What is she supposed to do without him? She can't fight without him, she can't lead a quest or find air to breathe without him. What happens now? Is this it for her, too?
When she met him, it felt like the scattered pieces of herself had been glued together. The entire work has gone missing. It won't be found until they meet again.
DAY FOURTEEN
The cool silk hits her skin, and she feels the force of a thousand knives slowly dig into her heart and twist. She couldn't even weave his shroud, give him this final act of love.
"He… he was the greatest person I ever knew," she projects, voice cracking. "He was the greatest person any of us knew. Even when…"
The crowd ahead parts like the sea. A boy in white, just a blurry figure through Annabeth's watery eyes. Heat consumes her body when she steps forward, disbelieving. He begins to run towards her.
Then her vision clouds in black, and the world turns upside down.
"Annabeth!"
She inhales sharply. Her eyes fly open and she sits up, immediately thrown off balance. Infirmary.
"Hi."
Her head snaps to the side and she jumps back. He smiles softly. Her beautiful boy, dressed in white like some sort of angel. The window has him backlit in a warm glow. Annabeth isn't totally certain that she isn't dead, and maybe has bypassed Charon.
"You're…" She reaches out, hand shaky. Percy interlaces his fingers with hers and squeezes once. He's warm like always. Annabeth yanks on his arm and he crashes into her, hugging him so tightly it hurts. It's the best pain she's ever felt. Here he is, all in one piece. She hiccups out a sob.
"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry," he whispers over and over again, kissing her skin, cradling her.
Annabeth can't say anything, she's sobbing so hard.
"I swear, I came back as soon as I could."
Annabeth nods again and again. She knows, whatever he tells her, she knows exactly what he means and intends and none of it matters anymore because Percy is alive in her arms.
Six knocks in rapid succession wake Percy up. He sits up in bed and wipes the sleep out of his eyes, not entirely sure if he dreamed it. Then, he hears it again, louder.
"Percy?" Oh, my gods, it's Annabeth.
He jumps out of bed and rushes to open the door. She's in her pajamas, but he doesn't think she ever went to bed. "Are you okay?"
Annabeth starts to nod, but a sob breaks through. Percy immediately pulls her through the door and shuts it.
He appraises her with concern, not sure what he's looking for. It's obvious she's not doing okay. He'd never seen her as upset as she was earlier in the infirmary, not even after everything that happened last winter.
He heard some other things about what happened when he was gone, of course. How she didn't eat for days, didn't leave the bed. How she went for a swim in the middle of the night and cut her head open. I think she was trying to kill herself, someone said when they thought he wasn't listening, and he was so upset he had to leave the room.
He's pissed and guilty in equal measure. He can never leave her again, especially now that he knows other people won't take care of her like he can. He will take care of her.
Percy wraps Annabeth in his arms. "Come here. It's okay, tell me what happened."
"Can I stay here?"
Percy blinks. "For the night?"
Annabeth covers her face with her hands and shakes her head. "I—forget it, it's—"
"No, no," Percy says. He's a little confused, but he would never say no to her. "It's okay, you can stay, I just wanted to—yeah, you can stay."
"Yeah?"
"Of course."
Percy eyes the bed. It's a twin. It's not like they haven't cuddled before, but if she's gonna stay here the whole night, should he make another bed for her? Should he pull up the one next to his? It feels wrong, though, to be away from her. The whole point is that he should be able to hold her, right?
They settle in silence, her head on his chest. Percy starts feeling self-conscious about the state of his bedsheets and whether they're clean enough for her.
Percy's wished for this before, at times when he wakes up in the middle of the night from a nightmare and wanted nothing in the world more than her. Even on the good days, he misses her the instant she's gone. He gets what people mean when they call their partners their better halves—she is his, without a doubt.
Annabeth takes the hand that is not around her shoulder and holds it over his stomach, presses a finger to his pulse. "Percy."
"Yeah?"
"Where were you?"
Percy swallows. He was hoping she wouldn't ask. It's not because he has anything to hide, but because he doesn't want to upset her even more. But he can't hide it any longer, and he won't lie to her.
"I was in Ogygia," he says.
Annabeth inhales sharply. "With—"
"Yes, but she healed me. That's all, I mean, I was so injured I could barely get up most of the time."
He meant to reassure Annabeth that he wasn't cheating on her with a goddess, but that was the wrong thing to say. She just starts crying harder.
"I'm sorry," she sobs.
"Baby, why are you sorry?"
"I left you! And then you—you got hurt—"
Percy swallows. She still hasn't seen what remains of the burns, the scars that not even Calypso's balms were enough to cure. Will she feel bad if she sees him without his shirt on? Will she feel disgusted?
"It's not your fault," Percy says. "I told you to go. If you'd stayed, you would have died. That's no good for anyone."
"But I shouldn't have left you, maybe—"
"No, no, don't think like that." He gently presses his lips to the top of her head. "What happened happened. It's not your fault and I'm okay. I'm here."
Annabeth shifts up his body so they're nose to nose. She still looks so sad, as though he didn't come back at all. Percy wishes he knew what to do to fix it.
"I'm sorry," he says.
She softly runs a thumb over his temple, pushes his hair out of his face. "I love you."
Percy repeats it, knowing it won't be enough. They have to go back to the labyrinth soon, and he hasn't even told her about Rachel yet. What if it only gets worse?
Annabeth had thought of drafting up an excuse to miss this. Percy wouldn't have argued. She bets he'd be more than happy to let her off. But a birthday is a birthday, and he's so sweet when it's hers, so she'll be here for him too.
This last month has been something only torturers in the Underworld could dream up. There was little joy that came out of him being alive. She feels that something is wrong with her, how she barely felt happiness at this. Mostly, desperation and panic. A need for him at all times, in every way.
She will never shake the time spent in anguish out of her system. What will happen to her when Percy is actually dead? She can't go through that again. Not permanently.
She wants to fight for him until her last breath, but she gave up after a few days following the eruption. Drag her down to Tartarus, for all she cares. It's what she deserves.
She couldn't save Luke, and she won't be able to save Percy. She sees inhuman golden eyes every time she blinks.
All of this is felt through a blank exterior. Her smile does not reach her eyes in a single picture. She isn't trying to ruin Percy's day, not for him or Sally, but if she pretends to be happy she'll start bawling.
Her heart falls to her feet when Poseidon walks through the door. Percy's only seen his father twice before, up on Olympus. This is really bad.
When Percy comes back, he looks sick. A quiet disturbance in which he looks at her, communicates Later with his eyes. Annabeth swallows thickly. She watches him, in his hoodie and jeans, barely any skin showing. They've been in the city for less than a week, so Sally has yet to see the burn scars that travel through the middle of his body, flowing down his arms, stopping just at his knees.
A while after the volcano, after her quest, Annabeth had tried to take his shirt off and Percy reacted like she had just shocked him. She didn't want to upset him, so she let it go. A few weeks later had passed when she finally saw what he was hiding. Percy hadn't shown her because he didn't want to upset her. That didn't stop Annabeth from blaming herself until she grew sick.
They all have blue cake and Annabeth finds herself momentarily distracted when she gets angry during Monopoly.
But then it rolls in like the nightfall.
She locks herself in the bathroom and heaves out sob after sob. She feels like she's stuck in the labyrinth again, or crying herself to sleep in Percy's empty cabin. She knows this is what life will be like now.
She looks at herself in the mirror and groans. It's so obvious she's been crying, and she can't handle the concern from Percy and his family. She'll just start again.
She splashes water on her face and dries off, cooling her warm cheeks. The deep breath she takes before opening the door does nothing.
"Percy—" She sees a small boy dressed in black, hunched over at the dining table. There's a half eaten slice of cake in front of him. "Nico? What's going on?"
He looks up at her. "Hey, Annabeth."
Percy takes her hand and leads the three of them to his bedroom.
Percy looks to Nico, Nico stares back. Annabeth's heart pounds.
In a single breath, Percy tells her, "Okay, so, you know how Achilles' mom dunked him in the Styx and he was all indestructible? We probably have to do that to me, too."
"Not probably," Nico says.
The look on Nico's face tells Annabeth how serious this is. Her heart sinks to her stomach. "Percy, you can't do that. Your soul will burn away to nothing."
"You think I want to? It might be the only way. We both saw Luke fall, and somehow, he survived it."
Annabeth twists her fingers. "No."
"Okay, well, unless you have a better idea, you can't stop me with this."
"Achilles was Achilles, Percy. I love you, but you're not him. We don't know if that's what Luke did, and there's no way to test this without putting your life at risk."
Nico pipes up. "Annabeth, you know everything from the stories, but I have experience. It's the only way he stands a chance against Kronos."
She stares at Percy. Mournful and stubborn, he stares back. The beginning of the end.
"You're gonna do it anyway," Annabeth resigns, straining her voice so it does not wobble. "I'll figure it out."