Annabeth had always been proud of a lot of accomplishments. Being hubris her mortal flaw, it was expected that the list of things she liked to brag about should be very long.

She'd always been proud to be independent, having run away from home at seven. She'd also always been proud of being a demigod, because despite all the dangers and uncertainties, she was part of something much bigger than her and that felt amazing. And she'd always been very proud of her intelligence, especially considering she had dyslexia. And last of all, she was really proud of her architecture skills. She knew how good she was at it.

Still, she never thought – until that day – that she would feel proud of simply being alive. Sure, being a demigod her life was meant to be shorter and she knew that reaching seventeen was something half of the half-bloods didn't experience. But even so she never thought about how wonderful it meant that she was breathing, feeling, loving, living.

That is, of course, until she fell with Percy into Tartarus.

The place was hell – literally – but she wasn't dead just from being there. And that actually was kind of bad because, boy, did she wish she were. She lived things in that place that made her want nothing more than to just cease her existence and have a minute of peace.

Deep down she knew that the only reason her body didn't completely shut down granting her wishes was Percy's presence. And now she couldn't be gladder about it.

It had been three days since they had managed to get out of there. The battle was absurd and a lot of campers – from both Greek and Roman sides – died, but they managed. Together. Alive.

And really, no feeling was better than the knowledge that Percy hadn't perished. From all her biggest fears, that was by far the worst. After everything they lived, after everything he'd done for her… he just had to live. And he did.

And so she was – for the third night in a three nights row – sneaking out of her cabin to go to his, because the nightmares were just too much for her to handle alone. Had he not lived she knew she'd never be able to sleep again.

"Percy?" She whispered once she entered his cabin, already used to how much she could open so it wouldn't crack. And he was awake, of course, knowing she would appear. And because he couldn't sleep without her either.

"Come here." He whispered back, still in bed, waiting for her to join him. "Nightmares?"

"I didn't even sleep, actually. I tried, but… I just couldn't." She snuggled to him, feeling his warmth and reality and thanking every god from every belief that he was with her.

"It will pass. We'll get over this." He held her tightly and kissed the top of her head.

"What if we don't?" Her voice was so shy, so unlike her.

"We will."

"When?"

"I don't know." He said honestly. "But we'll find out the same way we always do."

"How?" She tilted her head to look at him.

"Together."

And she smiled for the first time since they fell. It was a smile. Almost unnoticeable, but it was there.

"I'm really glad you're alive, Percy."

"Yeah, so am I." He sighed deeply and tightened his grip around her waist. "You're alive, too, you know?"

"What?"

"I know you know you're alive. It's just… we're alive. We're seventeen-year-old demigods who've been in Tartarus and we're alive. That's… incredible."

Annabeth got quiet for a few seconds, but them she looked at him and did something she hadn't done in a long time, she kissed him.

"We're alive." She simply said, her eyes bright.

And Percy kissed her again, calmly, just because he could.

And just then they went from being alive to living.

And that's when they knew they'd be alive for a long time. Because they were together.