A/N: This story just popped into my head the other day when my dad went into one of his bipolar rages, and I just needed to write it to escape. I always wondered how Percy and Annabeth dealt with Tartarus, and I figured that this could have been one of the ways they did.
Disclaimer: I am unfortunately not Richard Russell Riordan. All of these wonderful characters belong to him, but the plotline belongs to me. So take that, your highness.
Warning: Triggering
I quietly slipped out of Percy's arms and out of the queen size bed we shared. Brushing back a lock of ebony hair that had fallen onto his forehead, I felt a tear slide down my cheek. "I'm sorry, Perce. I'm so sorry," I whispered. I made my way to the bathroom without turning on a single light on. It had become almost second nature to me by now. Not bothering to shut the door, I felt for it. The tears were coming faster now as I began to lift up my shirt and lower the side of my pajama bottoms, but I couldn't stop now. It was controlling me, whispering that I deserved it after all I had done. The worst part of it was that I believed every single thing it said. What are a few more scars?
And so I lowered the razor to my hips, stretching my skin so it would thin and cut more easily. I didn't wince at the pain anymore. No, I had grown too accustomed to the familiarity of the blade moving across my pale skin and welcomed the red pinpricks that welled against the still fresh wound. It didn't take long until I had a steady rhythm going, and I was leaving another mark every three seconds. I didn't even notice the bathroom light flicking on. I don't know how long it took until it registered that someone was watching me, and as my lifeless eyes moved upwards, they connected with the only other pair on earth that I never wanted to see me like this.
Percy was standing in the doorway, his features contorted and brimming with anguish. I heard the razor clattering against the tile, but I don't remember it falling out of my grasp. I did the one thing I knew how to do best- I collapsed right then and there and cried. He didn't say anything; he just held me. That's what I wanted. It's what I needed, honestly. So I sat there, drenching his favorite Captain America shirt until he picked me up and carried me to our bed. I sobbed until there was nothing left in me, and even then he didn't say anything. My head lay on his chest, moving with its every rise and fall.
His fingers were twirling a strand of my hair when he finally spoke. "Beth," he hesitated. "Do you want to talk?" My breath hitched. Percy wasn't pressuring me, I knew that, and I wanted to say something. I just didn't know what to say, he knew that, so we comfortably lay there in silence until we fell asleep in each other's arms.
I woke up the next morning to the scent of pancakes, Percy's blue pancakes, and willed myself to roll out of bed. Padding into the kitchen, I felt his eyes cautiously glance my way as I poured myself a cup of coffee, black, of course, and took a seat at the round breakfast table. He often liked to make jokes about how we were the "Knights of the Round Table," but he didn't this morning. I placed my cup down on the table and paused a moment before speaking. "Percy," he didn't look up from the pancakes, "how long have-"
"About a month now," he replied carefully, avoiding looking me in the eye. I winced. I never meant for him to find out like this. Percy flipped the pancakes over and, if my eyes saw correctly, wiped a tear from his eye. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, and just as quickly as he closed it, he opened it again. "Annabeth, do you still love me?"
I sat there, shocked. That Seaweed Brain actually thought I didn't love him. "Perce," I gasped, "you're the only reason why I even manage to get up most mornings. I love you more than I-"he finally looked at me, his eyes pleading not to finish the sentence exactly how I was going to, "-more than I love myself." Percy turned off the stovetop and carefully took a seat next to me. This time, it was I who didn't meet his eyes. He took hold of my hand and slowly began massaging tiny circles into my palm with his thumb.
"I need you to know, Wise Girl, that I've done it too." I looked at him, really looked at him for the first time in what felt like years, and I saw him. He was hurting just as much as I was. Percy's fingers left my hand and went towards his shirt, inching it up little by little until I finally saw the tiny faint white lines covering the side of his torso.
"Seaweed Brain," I managed. "Oh my gods." I felt the tears beginning to spring from my eyes, and I wondered how, after last night, I could produce any more. I moved almost immediately to Percy's lap, craving his warmth, and together we sat there. In the quiet, we forgot all about the pancakes cooling on the rack. We forgot that life was still continuing. We forgot everything except for each other in that moment, and it was perfect because, in spite of everything, we still had each other to hold on to. And, somehow, that was all that mattered.