He's holding her hand tightly, like it would kill him to let go, but not so tight that it cuts off her circulation.
They wind through the busy streets of Rome, and Annabeth flicks quick, admiring glances at the beautiful architecture. She comments on it, glancing at Percy, but he doesn't seem to hear her. He's scanning the streets, and seems distracted with his own thoughts. He's probably imagining and dreading the ever-advancing time when he will have to leave her.
Annabeth tries not to think about that, either—but Percy doesn't understand. He probably isn't mentally capable of understanding; Annabeth just barely is, herself. She has to do this. It's her quest. She hasn't been in charge of one since a year ago, when she led her friends through the Labyrinth. A time when she was so filled with jealousy over Rachel and her frizzy red hair, and the longing glances she was constantly sending Percy, that Annabeth could hardly think straight.
She tries not to think about her last quest, and how she would've failed multiple times if not for Percy by her side. He stuck with her to the very end.
She would have been lost without him.
She'd been lost, for the last eight months.
And now, when they had finally been reunited, when they were back together like old times, they have to be separated just as quickly . . .
A heavy sensation seems to be crushing Annabeth's chest.
To let out some of her anxiety, she squeezes Percy's hand, slight enough so that he won't notice. He seems oblivious as ever, walking at her side, staring blankly at the cobblestone roads before them which they tread down. But there's a pained look etched in his eyes.
The air smells pleasantly of fresh baking and flowers. Annabeth notices Percy sniffing, too, and smiles a little. How is she supposed to let him go, when the time comes?
But she's older now, she reprimands herself, more mature and experienced than last year. She can do this quest. She has to. The fate of the world is at stake.
Percy doesn't understand.
He must understand, or she won't be able to bear leaving him.
.
.
.
They find a nice café, quieter than the rest of the loud city. A waiter wearing a traditional black penguin suit takes their order. Percy is clueless, as usual, and orders a pizza and a coke. Annabeth smiles and explains things to him. It's like old times.
Being with Percy again, after all those horrible, nightmarish months of separation . . . it's like being on Olympus. Annabeth can't put into words how he makes her feel—her chest wells up at the mere sight of him; her stomach flutters when he smiles at her. He makes her whole again.
They talk about Annabeth's quest, and Annabeth tells Percy not to be hard on himself about Chrysaor.
He smiles at her. "How do you do that?" he asks. "You always know what I'm thinking."
"I know you," Annabeth answers simply, and she realizes it's true, that she and Percy have gone through so much together, through hell and battles, pain, loss, and blood. But they've also had their share of happy moments. And those are the ones that Annabeth focuses on—if she didn't, she would go crazy. But somehow, the bad memories always manage to seep in . . .
Their arms are stretched across the table, just the ends of their fingers linked together, but the small contact is enough for Annabeth to feel Percy's warm skin. She relishes it.
She stares into his eyes, gorgeous as always, the green a brighter shade in the sunlight. He stares back at her, and they're both silent.
Percy opens his mouth, about to say something, when their waiter returns with Percy's pizza and Annabeth's panini, which is slid in front of her on the table in a small oval bowl. The waiter comments on the view, and Annabeth turns her head to look out over the caramel-colored waters of the river. She knows its filth is what causes its color, but somehow, she finds it enticing. The trees and cream-colored stucco villas, with their red roof tiles, are a striking contrast in the backdrop. The waiter is right. It is beautiful.
Annabeth turns back around, facing Percy, to see that he has already started on his pizza, and is chewing slowly, his eyes dropped down to look at the surface of the table, studying the red-and-white checkered tablecloth. His pizza's bread is doughy and dry, the cheese stringy. He looks at his food almost mournfully, and Annabeth feels a stab of pain in her chest, sure that it's more than his food that has saddened him.
Sure that it has do to with her.
Still, her Seaweed Brain has always been cute eating, and it's fun to watch him gobble up the meat and get cheese stuck on his lip.
Annabeth pokes at her own sandwich, not really hungry, but she knows she should eat to keep up her strength. She eventually manages to consume half of it before addressing Percy again, not able to look at him. She tells him he has to trust her . . . that she'll be all right, and come back to him.
The day has warmed up since earlier, but Annabeth still shivers and rubs her arms. She sips her fizzy water and just enjoys the feeling of being with Percy. Moments like these are precious to her. She wants to wholly assure him about her quest—because when she assures him, it calms herself a little, and it will be worse for her if she dives head-first into a solo quest with rattled nerves—but she's not sure what to say.
Then they're interrupted by a motor scooter.
Annabeth glances toward the riverfront at the bike bearing a driver and his partner—Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn, she thinks instantly.
There're wearing bright smiles plastered on their faces, but Annabeth can't help thinking that they somehow look evil. Like they've purposely come to take her away from Percy, and are enjoying it.
She looks back at Percy, feeling panicked.
Their time to part is almost upon them.
.
.
.
The river god and his wife introduce themselves, and give Annabeth documents, then usher her to get on the back of their their baby-blue scooter, but Annabeth isn't ready.
She glances at Percy, who is squeezing her hand too tightly. His face has gone a pasty pale to match his pizza. His mouth is opening and closing again, and he finally manages to swallow with difficulty, his head whipping back and forth from looking at her to Tiberinus.
He jumps to his feet like a wild man and pleads to Tiberinus to let him go with her—just a little farther. But, of course, his request is declined.
Annabeth promises him again that she'll be fine. Of course she tries to convince him—she can't leave him, letting him think she's actually as terrified and broken about this as she feels.
He tries to argue, but then seems to decide there's nothing he can do about it, and it will be easier for her if he just lets go. So he forces a smile and nods.
"Be safe," he says, like he's commanding it. But his words are hoarse and shattered.
Annabeth looks into his eyes and knows he's not ready to let her go. Will never be.
She has to be the one to see this through.
So she kisses him, slow and soft, tries to let him know in that contact what he means to her. When she pulls back she hesitates, wanting to say something else, anything to wipe the broken-hearted look off his face. But her mind, for once, is blank.
She has to literally tug her hand out of his, because she knows he won't be the one to let go, and it pains her so much tears spring to her eyes.
She quickly slings her backpack over her shoulder and drops her head, not looking at him.
She doesn't know who this is harder for—herself, who has been drowning in grief for months searching for her lost boyfriend, or Percy, who woke up months ago in a strange place with his memory wiped, only bearing her name in his mind.
She won't look at him. She knows what he'll look like if she does: his beautiful face will appear broken and confused and lost, because that's how he's feeling. His lips will be slightly parted, wanting to whisper last words to her—for her to stay with him.
If she looks back at him, she'll give in and stay behind. She'll abandon her quest, and she would never forgive herself if she did that.
So she hops on the back of the scooter. There is barely enough room for her feet, and Annabeth has always thought of her feet as small. She wraps her arms around Rhea Silvia's tiny waist, the silk fabric of the river god's wife's dress on her bare arms making her shiver and feel a tiny bit of comfort.
She can practically feel Percy's sad stare on her back, and she feels miserable and cruel and cold-hearted to be leaving him like this.
But there's nothing she can do. So she forces herself to continue on with this.
She doesn't look back, because she wouldn't be able to tear her gaze from his, wouldn't be able to keep herself from running back to him and flinging herself in his arms.
That would be the destruction of everything.
She
won't
look
back.
.
.
.
She's rode miles now, on the scooter with Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn, but she still forces herself to keep her gaze forward, always thinking about the things ahead of her, busying her mind with thoughts of her quest.
She hopes Percy will forgive her. She didn't look back.
But I'll be with you soon, she silently promises. She hopes that's true and she's not just lying through her teeth. She's doesn't want to deceive not only Percy, but also herself.
Will I make it through this alive? she wonders.
Her only answer is the hum of the motor bike.
Annabeth sucks in a breath as the scooter's front wheel hits a deep rut, bouncing her.
I hope so.