The End
.
.
.
There's an end to everything, right? One day, the nightmares will go away, and so will the flashbacks. All the bad things; they'll end, right? Just like her life will, too?
0.5
...
She looks at them. Blood and cuts adorn their faces, their arms, legs, torsos... But they're all there. Tears stream down her face. She sees relief on the others'. Everything is silent when the first drop of rain falls. Soon, a light shower of fresh rain falls in curtains around them. She clutches Percy's hand as she takes a deep breath. It smells like home. Like pine trees and strawberries and spring. It smells like campfire smoke and green, green grass. Percy's face is turned to the sky, a faint smile on his lips. Water runs down his skin and he looks like this is pure bliss to him. It is for her.
He turns to her. Their lips meet halfway as water drips around them.
"I've always wanted to kiss a girl in the rain, you know. And it's better with you." he whispers against her lips.
She smiles.
Everyone was watching. She turns to the six other faces that she cares so much for and whispers three words.
"We did it."
And they laugh and sob and cheer and scream and hug and she's sure her lips touch Percy's at least a million times.
She thinks there might be other people here, too.
But she doesn't care.
Tonight she is okay. Tonight everything is well. Tonight it doesn't matter how much her sides ache or how much blood drips down the others' shirts, because wounds can be healed.
Tonight she is free.
It's the end of a war, and the beginning of another.
1
...
The first month back is the worst. She's scared. What if this was a dream? A figment of her imagination, of her hope that everything would be okay? Because it could be. Everything is so bright, and-and so real. And it's so real it hurts her eyes, and her feelings, and when something happens, she wants to burst out in tears and cry because it's just so real. And she's scared. She's scared it'll be wrenched out of her grasp as quickly as reality hits you smack-dab in the face. It'll just be a dream that's not real, and someone will wake her up. And she'll be back there with the monsters and the screaming and the Titans and the banished and the bones and the crushing insanity.
And the hope that lasted, it's feathers that glistened in the dim light as she tried to hold it, to keep it.
1.5
...
She dreams about him. Always him. Because he died and he knew it, and a part of her died when he died, and they know it.
She crouches, fully expecting the golden scythe to come down and rip her soul apart. I love you. She thinks. She closed her eyes. She was ready to die. There is a clang above her head. She is afraid of opening her tightly shut eyes, but she does. Percy stands above her, blocking her body with his. His hands shake as Kronos puts more pressure on the two blades. The scythe falls, down, down, down. She watches with sick, sick dread. Two twin screams rang out in the air.
Kronos has gone.
She doesn't care.
"Percy!" she screams. She falls to her knees beside him. "Percy!"
"Annabeth." he whispers. Blood seeps through the orange rag that is his shirt. There is a long cut; stretching from his earlobe all the way down to where his thyroid gland is. Other cuts decorate his body like tattoos. And they do look like tattoos. Spirals wind around his arms and legs. Symbols, circles, crosses, a trident even, in the middle of his chest. They are all scars.
His hand reached up to caress her cheek.
"Percy." she choked out. "Please don't leave."
"I love you."
"I love you."
He kissed her one last time.
.
.
.
She cries when his eyes open again.
"Wise Girl."
2
...
It's the second month back. It's better. She's not so scared, and it doesn't hurt to laugh and enjoy herself. But that's it. She still screams at night. Her dagger lies underneath her pillow. The Athenians have learnt to sleep with the lights on. She still creeps to Cabin 3 at midnight and she still snuggles with Percy. She still needs him like she needs air, and she needs him to fight the nightmares away. She's still fragile, like a china doll, and she's terrified of something to explode in her face and break her until there is nothing left but shards and ashes. But it's better.
Chills creep up her spine when she thinks of it. She tries not to. She hides behind a mask. Percy sees straight through it. So do her Seven. She doesn't mind. Nothing could stop them. But the others don't. Not Malcolm, not Will, not Clarisse, or Travis, or Connor, or Chris Rodriguez, or Katie Gardner nor Miranda Gardiner, or her siblings, even. And she knows it's because they don't want to see it. They want her to be the fearless leader, Percy Jackson's girlfriend and best friend, as well as the Lord of the Wild's, and the girl who saved the world. That with her mask makes them think the battle's over. But it's far from.
2.5
...
She's cold and she's tired. She's scared and terrified and she feels like she's going to spontaneously combust like you would if you ate too much ambrosia or drank too much nectar. She wants to scream and yell and grab at her hair and sob, sob, sob 'til her throat runs dry and her eyes hurt. Because she is sick of it. Sick of the stares and whispering and the godsdamn fucking way they think she acts and talks and fights and everything. She's sick of being dissected and watching 24/7. It's not helping because the bad dreams have resurfaced, too.
They sit on the beach. A cool breeze ruffles their hair, and she leans into the hollow of Percy's neck. His fingers run through her pale yellow curls. They sit until she breaks the silence.
Tears are already forming when she says,"I'm scared, Percy."
Percy pulls her closer, his arms pressing her so her face is pressed against the dark grey fabric of his shirt. She takes a deep breath of the smell of pine trees and rain. She breathes deeply, her breath coming out in whuffs. His shirt is getting wet, but she doesn't think her cares.
Finally," I know. I am too."
"It's just getting harder. Everything's going wrong again. I'm just so sick and tired of everyone, because they don't know and they're blind and stupid and naive." She hiccups. "And I just-"
Sobs wrack her body as Percy patiently holds her. Her words are cut off by the binding tears. The waves crash against the shore, harsh and unyielding.
"Shh. Shh. We'll make it out of this war. Together."
He doesn't say together like a question.
"Together...You promise?"
He is silent. The gulls cry, and they ask, Promise? Promise? Promise?
He speaks.
"Yeah. Yes. Annabeth, I promise. I promise. We'll get through this together."
They kiss.
3
...
Is she over it?
No.
3.5
...
Will she be over it?
Yes.
He promised.
4
...
It was so dark. So cold. It was darkcolddarkcolddark- She shivered. Four months. It had been four months. Sixteen weeks. And it was still darkcolddarkcold and she screamed as- as dark and cold as it'd been sixteen weeks before. She yearned for that day again, where they laughed and sobbed and hugged and kissed in the sweet, sweet rain. But the sweet-as-spring rain of new beginnings was long gone. In it's place was bleak, bitter, cold winds that nipped at her toes and mare her hair spin about. The hours of warm sunshine on her face was long gone, too. In it's place, tall shadows and the dying colors of red and gold.
In their place was her lament, and the mourning sound of waves.
4.5
...
"I just wanna run." she tells him.
"I know you do. I wanna, too."
"And then I don't, and I'm confused."
"You do, 'Beth. You just don't wanna leave them behind. You want the freedom."
"Camp is big, but..."
"It's suffocating. It's not big enough."
"Yeah, that's it."
"I wish. I want to sleep in a cool valley looking up at the stars, next to you. I want to wake up to you and me. I want to watch the sunrise. I want to-"
"Yes." she whispers.
"We'll make it there together." she says. "We'll do it together, you and I, Percy."
5
...
Stop. She wants the world to stop spinning in circles. She wants the rumors to stop. She wants to the storm clouds rolling with thunder. She wants the sky to let her take a breath. She wants so many things.
But she'll never do some of them. Never.
She wants a break from the nightmares. The screaming. The tight-fitting mask. The flashbacks. The hallucinations and flashbacks. She doesn't want to live with open lights and daggers-under-the-pillows anymore. She doesn't want them to keep treading lightly, glancing at her every few seconds to make sure she isn't going to brek. She isn't that fragile. She hates it.
Despises it with every fibre of her half-god-half-mortal being.
Stop it. Leave me alone.
13
...
She finds him folding paper in his cabin.
"Hey."
He looks up and smiles a 'hi'
"What's up?"
He blushes.
"Cranes."
"Cranes?"
He nods,
and
shows her the ropes of paper cranes.
There are ropes, he explains,
with knots. I fit a crane above
each knot o it doesn't fall off. There
will be
ten cranes
on each rope.
Until I reach one thousand.
She helps him fold.
"Like the story?
A Thousand Paper Cranes."
"Yes.
I'm going to hang them on the ceiling so they dangle."
"What wish?"
"For it to end."
For everything to end, he means.
They leave two years after.
"So this is it?" she asks. "The end of the war?"
"Yes." he replies. "It is."
They lay in their dream. The dream that had been fulfilled.
It's just as he imagined.
Holding hands, lying side-by-side
in a meadow in a valley.
Where the water was sweet
and
where the stars blinked.
He kisses their joined knuckles,
then,
her shoulder
and
her neck and her forehead
and last,
her lips.
She kisses him back.
"I love you."
"I love you."
"This is it?"
She kisses him again.
"This is it?"
she asks.
She kisses him again.
He smiles and looks at the stars before turning back to her.
"See you soon, Wise Girl."
"Race you there, Seaweed Brain."
"You're on."
Their lips meet as he closes his eyes.
Their lips meet.
He looks at the stars.
She does, too.
"See you soon, Wise Girl."
A playful smile appears on her lips. Just like three years ago.
"Race you there, Seaweed Brain."
"You're on."
Their lips meet again.
She closes her eyes with the memory of a burning kiss
and green, green eyes.
He says one last thing to her.
"It's the end of the beginning."
"No. It's the end of a legend. But it's the start of an adventure."
"Still racing?"
Eyes closed, she replies.
"Always."
It's the end of this, you guys.
This is a good, solid story! Yay!
At first it was more packed, and then I turned it.
I'm proud of myself.
Tell me your Percabeth feels.
Achieving Elysium