Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus, they are both owned by the amazing –and slightly evil- Rick Riordan.
"Wake Up"
He told her he was sorry, though she couldn't hear. He told her, he wished they could have done everything they had planned; New Rome and Collage. "The famous Percy Jackson, finally met your match I see." He grabbed her hand, a lifeline as he felt his own start to ebb away from him. "I'm fine." A goddess, that's what she was to him, a goddess in both beauty and mind.
A soft pressure graced his shoulder and with a swift turn of his head and a lopsided smile he looked at the stormy eyed women, her face marked with worry and a single scar running from her ear to her neck. She didn't say anything but she did lean on his shoulder, her mouth frowned and eyebrows scrunched up as she looked at him. Turning around fully so that he could face her, he took her hands in his own and rubbed his thumb over the rough surface of her palm, that was too married with scars,
"I'm fine." His voice barely above a whisper, yet it seemed to carry across the empty fields and empty night sky. "I'm fine." Yet as he said it again a sharp pain pierced his heart as if deep down he knew it wasn't true.
"You're not." Her voice was louder than his, yet softer, a leaf in the wind. She removed her hands from his and cupped his face, her hands hot against his freezing cold skin, and she leaned in. He didn't move back, hands snaking around her waist as he met her in the middle, cold lips meeting hot ones. She whispered the same two words against his lips, "You're not."
He drew back and looked at her; the stormy grey eyes that usually held so much strength seemed defeated and clung with sadness that he wished he could take away.
He brought his hands from her waist and placed them beside the hands that she still had on his face. "I'm fine," he repeated looking in her eyes and she met his gaze with those same sad, defeated eyes. But behind he could see that knowing glint that he loved and he cracked a smile.
"You're not."
*~0~*
"If I told you too-"she paused for a minute seeming to think her words through, something that in all the years he had known her, he had never seen her do "-too save yourself and leave me for dead-"she stopped her sentence again, this time looking up from their entwined hands and into his confused eyes before continuing "-would you?"
"No," he shook his head, "no." And he found himself repeating it over and over as he looked into those stormy grey eyes. "No," he said, his voice shaking, "I would rather die than be without you." She cracked a smile at his words and her grip on his tightened, as if he was her one and only link to reality.
"Why?" he asked her, his eyes boring into hers and hers were doing the same to him. "Why ask that?" She gave a sad smile and tore her gaze away to look out at the beach that lay into front of them, waves lapping at their feet and ankles and sand findings its way into every knock and cranny.
"I don-" she stopped herself, as if she didn't want to admit that she didn't know why she had asked that. He looked at her, the sunlight pale moonlight streaming down on her face and making her blond hair almost silver in colour and giving her tan skin an unearthly glow.
A goddess, that's what she was to him, a goddess in both beauty and mind. Keeping their hands entwined he shuffled so that he was in front of her and took her right hand in his left and entwined the fingers on that hand too before looking at her. Sad stormy grey eyes meeting worried sea-green.
"I swear on the River Styx-"he didn't pause even when the thunder boomed overhead "-I will never let you go."
*~0~*
He sat on the floor, his back pressed firmly against his bed, the metal of the bed frame digging into his back and the mattress giving little comfort. Spread out around him were books; both exercise and textbooks. Studying was his whole day, he had made that promise over the phone, and he needed to if he wanted to get his grades from the C- that he was just getting to the B's that he knew he could get.
There was a soft knock against the door, but he didn't look up, not even when the door opened. He furiously scribbled in an exercise book, trying to figure out what he was reading. Algebra, numbers and letters, two things that he believed did not belong together.
As the footsteps from the person got closer and denim jeans came into view he lifted his head from the furious illegible scribbles and gave a bright smile.
The person took a seat next to him, pushing aside a biology textbook and looking over his side at his writing before giving a short snort. She didn't bother covering her mouth and held out a hand, knowing what it was she was asking for he grabbed the maths textbook and handed it to her.
She took it her, eyes slowly moving over the pages, eyebrows frowned and lips thinned as she drummed a rhythmic beat against her denim covered thigh. A piece of her curled blond hair found its way to her mouth and she chewed on the end of it, he looked at her giving a small smile.
Even after five years she still had the same way of thinking; the frowned eyebrows and thinned mouth, the drumming and the chewing of the hair. He knew better then to try and snag the piece of hair out of her mouth, he had tried it once and that once was nearly the end of him.
"Algebra," she finally said, she looked up, the lone strand of hair falling from her mouth as she looked back at his writing. Looking at him with humoured stormy grey eyes she finished, "You're doing it all wrong."
*~0~*
He woke up screaming, his throat raw and his vision blurry. He tried to lash out even though he didn't know if anyone or anything was there, he felt two strong arms grip his and force them down and though he was still screaming and his body shaking, the arms wrapped around him. A comforting gesture and he felt himself relax; just enough so that his mind started to clear and then the rest went like clockwork.
The tears fell from his eyes and he didn't stop them, letting them cascade down his check and fall on her shoulder, he buried his head in the crock of her neck. He sobbed softly and messy, letting the emotions pour out of him in waves that he didn't care about stopping.
She hummed in response, a soft tune that calmed him down. A tune that she always hummed whenever he woke up screaming from one of those horrific nightmares, and when she woke up screaming he did the same. They were each other's links to the world, always there for each other and by each other's side.
She sung the soft lyrics and he listened, listening to her soothing voice that was a million times better than his was or would ever be.
He drew in a shaking breath as she sung lyrics to an old lullaby and he clung to her form. "Don't let go, please," he was pleading, from fear of what he knew might come if he ever lost her.
She moved from him and stopped humming, placing a scared hand on his chin and lifting his head so that he could look at her. Tears were also falling from her eyes, creating small pathways down her face, and the normally strong stormy grey eyes looked defeated and burdened.
"I won't," she promised before going back to humming.
He wondered if he had heard her next words, too soft but seeming to echo in his mind. "Wake up Percy."
*~0~*
He grabbed her hand, a lifeline as felt his own start to ebb away from him, crimson red liquid soaking through his shirt from the gash in his stomach. He sucked in a breath, burning his throat and constricting as his stomach seemed to burn with Hell Fire. He could hear her shouting; for who he couldn't hear, his head already seeming in a haze.
Far of he could hear footsteps before the sound of ruffling as someone passed something to her, and then she had her free hand under his head and was lifting his head up. The defeated grey eyes stared into his and he could see the Ambrosia she was holding up and opening his mouth, he let her feed him.
The food worked quickly and he could feel his stomach churning as the food worked its gods-given abilities.
"I'm fine," he said seeing those still worried eyes starting to tear up, and she gave hiccups in response through the tears that started to fall.
She shook her head, "You're not."
*~0~*
Slash.
Flick.
Clash.
Clink.
He couldn't hear anything above the sound of clashing weapons; of metal hitting metal with sicking sounds ringing through the battle. His hands stained red with blood of those he had wounded, wounded but never kill. They weren't evil; they had only been led by the wrong person.
He brought his sword up to block another's strike, flicking his wrist for a quick disarm move. The person stepped back too quick for the move to work and another strike was taken; a fast swipe that aimed for his neck. He couldn't block and found himself having to take a quick step back only to stumble over the loose rocks.
He gave a shout as he felt himself falling, sword loosely clasped in his hand. As his back slammed against the ground the sharp rocks pressed against his skin, trying to stab through his shirt and impale him on small spikes.
The person moved swiftly until they were standing over him, the sword was raised above the person's head in a swift movement and he found himself panicking. The person was standing on the fabric of his jeans, pinning his legs to the ground and making his moves limited. As the sword swang down he moved his top half of his body to the side, curling into a ball.
The sword came down and impaled itself in the rocks mere inches from his back. The person above swore. He took the time to kick his legs and cause the person to fall over, only then to stand up with clumsy movements. His sword dangled loosely from his hand as he placed his foot on the person's chest, pressing down with just enough force so that the person wouldn't get up.
"Don't," he said sternly, tipping his chin down to look at the warrior. Semi-long brown hair sprayed across the person's face, and anger filled brown eyes stared up at him. "Don't," he repeated his chest heaving as he tried to steady his breathing. "I don't want to fight you."
The person beneath him said nothing; only lay their staring up at him with beady brown eyes that seemed to stare into his very soul. His sword hand twitched at the uncomfortable stare as he slowly started to remove his foot from the person chest.
He didn't hear the footsteps behind him before it was too late. All he could do was a quick dogged to the side, leaving the original opponent open and with enough room to grab his sword. He quickly raised his sword and it clanked weakly against the new opponent's spear.
His movements were sloppy as he tried to find his balance and that was enough for the opponent to break through his defence. A quick swipe to his stomach and he found himself staggering backwards, blood pouring from a deep wound. He gripped his sword tighter, his other hand coming around to press against the wound and smother the bleeding.
His movements became worse, sluggish and uncoordinated. The opponent got to more deadly hits before his friend grabbed his shoulder and pointed at something off and said something. The new opponent looked at him, kneeling on the floor with his sword laying to his right and wounds to deep to heal. The opponent nodded and then they were both on their way.
He removed his right hand from his throat, where a cut lay –not deep enough to kill, but deep enough to bleed- and placed it on the rocky ground, fingers splayed as he tried to push weight on it to stand up. To stop them before any more died.
He fell back down in a pool of his blood; the smell of metal clogging his nose, along with the smell of the lively trees that whistled in the soft breeze. He laid there, mouth fulling up with blood before he called out. Hoping that the only Romans that were around were the three from the Seven, or the few that knew that Octavian was wrong.
He heard a rustle in the branches a bit further off, but by then he was left staring at the sky and the constellation of an old friend, vision clouded with dark spots and static growing louder in his ears.
Someplace off he could hear his name being called, before hands grabbed him and placed pressure on the deepest wounds. Fearful grey eyes swarmed his vision and her mouth moved, he could hear only the faintest of words as he coughed up the crimson red liquid that was his lifeline.
Her turned and she was shouting at someone further away before she turned back to him, repeating those few words that she had said. Her face was lined with grief as she begged and pleaded, but by then his eyes where clouding over with that all too familiar look of death.
"You promised we'll be together, Seaweed Brain."
His body grew cold, but he could still see those grey eyes, filled with tears that fell and landed on his blood stained face. Shaky hands left their original job of putting pressure on the wounds, as they knew it was worthless. They ghosted over slashed and bruised skin as tears fell faster from the grey eyes and she begged harder.
He watched helpless as those grey eyes –eyes that he knew so well and loved so much- shattered. His vision grew darker even though the small part of his brain that was still fighting knew that his eyes were open. Even with those spots of grey and black in his vision, he saw something else. Memories of times that passed, of old battles and dangerous quest; of times what it was quite literally them against the world. And those memories when it was just the two of them.
He saw memories that were real and memories that weren't, hallucinations caused by the near death.
He could hear her begging, pleading and cursing at the gods. He could faintly feel as the pressure on the wounds left and shaky hands came up to cup his chin and the pressure as she leaned his forehead against his. The begging, pleading and cursing grew fainter to his ears even though she was screaming louder than ever.
Darkness fully coated his vision and the static stopped, he couldn't hear it anymore-he couldn't hear anything anymore. The coldness submerged him, reminding him that fighting was futile.
He told her he was sorry, though she couldn't hear. He told her, he wished they could have done everything they had planned; New Rome and Collage.
He let the darkness consume him, and watched as the darkness slowly changed to the lobby of the DOA studios; a place that he hoped he would never see the likes of again. The steel grey walls looked as bleak as ever and the dark carpet looked the same; people went about their business of asking to be let out or to go through, as if he wasn't even there.
"The famous Percy Jackson, finally met your match I see."
*~0~*
"Wake up Percy!"
"You got to wake up!"
"..."
"Come on Seaweed brain…"
"Please…"
So hi, please don't brutally murder me for killing Percy, I was actually crying while writing that part so…yeah. Just please don't murder me.
I should probably explain the couple of short scenes before the fighting-drying scene. It was Percy hallucinating memories in his last moments, along with actual memories that got twisted around because he could kinda register Annabeth telling him to wake up. The 'Actual Memories' are completely made up…because. Well no reason, I just kinda wanted to do it like that.
So yeah, sorry for any emotional turmoil that I might of caused. But if it makes you feel better, I caused myself emotional turmoil also-which is really hard to hide in class might I add-.