Wednesday 18 April, 1906. 5:30 am. San Francisco, California.
She was frightened, to say the absolute least.
The entire city was engulfed in smoke; thick, black, churning smoke that entered your lungs and stayed there.
Annabeth held the collar of her nightgown up over her nose and mouth, but to no good it did. She was nearly suffocating anyway.
As she stumbled out of the debris that used to be her house, only fifteen minutes ago, she already knew that this would be it. The sky was painted black, like the dark ground beneath her bare feet. She limps into the street, away from nearby houses that had fallen.
Annabeth was lucky. She had went out into the backyard to shoo the bird that so incessantly kept her from sleep so early in the morning when the earthquake hit. 7.9, she later found out, one of the biggest in history. Just as she was about to go back into the house, to her warm, welcoming bed, the world started trembling under her toes, splitting the Earth, bringing building's down. The tree the bird had been chirping in had fallen on top of her house, destroying half of everything left inside.
Though, she was smart. She knew so much better than to go inside and grab her belongings. Right now all that mattered was finding him. Making sure he's okay.
Early in the morning everyday, he gets out of bed, kisses her forehead, and heads down for work at the local newspaper company. Writing has always been his passion. Sometimes he wrote about current events. Sometimes he wrote about her. Annabeth melted each and every time.
Annabeth had twisted an ankle, she discovered as she tried rushing down the street. There was nobody in sight, which scared her most of all. Some houses were in heaps, others untouched, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was the only person still alive in that town.
It took her half an hour before the aftershock struck. She knew it would come. It was inevitable. Earthquakes far smaller than this one had devastating aftershocks; though she wasn't quite expecting it to be so bad.
The Earth shook and rumbled, trembling like a glass of water atop an unsteady table, just waiting to tip and spill. She fell to her knees. Her whole life she'd lived in the heart of San Francisco. She knew earthquakes. None like this, though.
Annabeth was far enough away from buildings, kneeling in the middle of the street, but for some reason, she felt helpless. All she could do was stay there, hoping the Earth below her wouldn't split open and swallow her whole. She heard a baby cry, a scream, a car alarm, crashing and yelling and firetrucks and ambulances.
When it finally stopped, she stood, legs trembling like the ground had been a few moments ago. She had to find him.
Seven minutes later, and she was in the heart of it all. Fractures and frames of buildings was all that was left. The street was filled with people now, injured, crying, dying, hoping, praying. It looked like a rift to another world opened in the street, though people were walking right over it, as if the massive thing wasn't even there.
She had been down to the news station enough times to know it was directly next to the firestation and it's large bell tower.
Annabeth felt her blood turn to ice.
The news station was rubble on the ground.
"No.." she whispered to herself.
An officer told her it had been the aftershock. The aftershock had brought her life, and this building, crashing down. Not even the real thing.
She tried not to think about how scared he was, about how much hope he probably had when he survived the first one; she desperately tried to shove the idea out of him rushing down the stairs, eager to get out, only for the thing to collapse over on top of him.
Annabeth wanted to find his body. She needed that, at least. She needed to know.
She carefully walked through the remains. Perhaps slipping some shoes on would've been a smart thing to do before leaving her house for good, but it didn't matter. Not now.
The frame of the building still stood, nearly collapsed, but still standing. Annabeth's eyes, as grey as the clouds of smoke and ash above her head, scan helplessly through the debris, not really knowing if she wants to find him here or not.
"Annabeth?"
She turns. It's him. He's hurt, that's the first thing she notices; arm in a makeshift sling around his neck, cuts and rips everywhere, but she hardly sees it. He's alive- Percy's alive- and right now that's all that mattered.
Annabeth lost all sense and ran toward him, glass embedding itself in her feet, but she didn't feel it. Percy caught her easily with one arm when she threw herself at him, gripping the back of his t-shirt tightly and telling herself not to cry because he's alive and he's here and it's going to be okay because you're both still breathing.
"I-I thought-" she started, choking up a bit.
"I know," Percy cut her off, holding her as close to him as possible.
She pulled away an inch to look into his eyes, at his face, at the long cut going from his forehead to his lip. "What happened?" she asked.
"I ran across the street for just a moment, I was only opening the door to the coffee shop when it hit. I didn't get crushed, but the glass shattered and got me. I tried to lift a support beam to help some people who were stuck when the second one hit, it ripped me off of it, and my shoulder dislocated." He stopped, frowning deeply. "I was so scared, Beth. I wanted to find you, but there are so many hurt people here-"
"I understand," she said. "But we're alive, and I'm here now."
He leaned and kissed her sweetly. "I love you, Beth."
"I love you, too-"
And the second aftershock hit.
Perhaps they would've been okay if they had moved from under the front structural wall of the news station, but they didn't. And it came toppling over on top of them.
They landed next to each other, both pressed deeply on the previously cracked and collapsed pieces of cement and brick; they were crushed by the steel that had held the building up for so so long. And it was all crumbling down.
They both coughed. A lot. The debris and smoke getting in their lungs. When Annabeth finally came to, a white, searing hot pain stabbed through her back. She choked for air, telling herself to calm down or she'd hyperventilate and die sooner than later. But a steel support beam crushed her chest, making it hard to breathe, another across her legs, keeping her from moving at all. She knew, this was it. This was how she'd die.
Annabeth turned her head to the side, Percy was laying on his back too, and he was awake, blinking and coughing. Coughing up blood. She looked to his stomach where a long metal pole dug straight through his abdomen. She felt tears falling down her cheeks, and ignored the screams, the cries, the horrible, devastating sounds from all around her and focused on him.
Reaching over, she intertwined their fingers. Percy looked to her, his eyes so beautiful and so broken. He was dying, and dying fast. She felt her throat tighten. He would die before she did, and she would have to lay here, next to his body and wait for her inevitable death. Oh god.
"Hey," he choked, his eyes filling with tears. "Annabeth-" his words caught in his throat, no doubt it was hard to talk, let alone breath, "I love you so much."
She smiled, smiled so wide, as if they were on a date, a lovely date by the beach, their favorite place, and said, for the last time, "I love you, too."
He place his forehead right on hers. With his last bit of energy, he kissed her brow as the world around them burned. "See you in the next life, my love," he whispered.
And the last thing she saw was the light leaving his eyes just as a sweeping darkness bled into her vision, like pen ink on paper, swallowing everything whole.
Current Day. 12:48 am. New York City, New York. The Roof of the Empire State Building.
Annabeth held her gun to his nose, breathing deeply like they taught her to do back at base camp. Truly, though it is cruel and vially disgusting, they really should've had her actually shoot someone in preparation for this; her first time shooting a living, breathing human being and it's the man the entire world has been hunting for years. No pressure. No panic. No problem.
The three p's. Perfect.
There is no expression in his face, nor his eyes. She supposed that being a world-class wanted criminal for the latter half of your life would open you up to a world of hurt, so she didn't feel surprised to know that he could close him off particularly well. Perhaps he had been in that exact position millions of times before. Of course, what he doesn't know is that he is not getting away this time.
Annabeth planned to shoot his beautiful face off. It was initiation. You kill someone who deserves it, and you're officially in. Like the over achiever that she had always been- she went for the biggest fish in the pond.
Percy Jackson-infamous for too many crimes, punished for none of them. He had slipped through New York's fingertips for years. He stayed in the city, never once left, since between run-ins with the police, there was no time for him to have had left. Everyone assumed it was him being a tease. He was always under their nose, and yet, they never caught him.
And Annabeth The Newbie Chase had her gun pressed against his forehead.
She knew something, though. There was no way he stayed in the city because he's a bit cocky. There was a deeper reason, and she had finally figured it out.
She chased him through the streets, stalking his every move as he made his way to the tippity top of the Empire State Building. That's when he had turned, smirking, and said, "You've cornered me." He didn't expect her to kick her foot into his chest and press her gun on his face, so that's just what she did.
But there was this look in his eyes, the tiniest glint of smugness, that made you question just how many people he'd killed, and this little smirk, just the corner of his mouth slightly turned up, that made you realise that he'd probably lost count.
"You look young," he commented, tilting his head to the side.
She clicked the safety off. "I'm seventeen."
"Cute," he smirked. "I'm twenty-one and my favorite color is blue. Your turn."
Annabeth kicked his thigh since he was kneeling, and he bent over in pain. "Fuck, kid," he sputtered.
"Who is it?" she asked, her voice firm and commanding, just the way she was taught.
"Who is what?"
"The girl. The family member. The friend," she said, "You never leave New York and it's not because you're cocky, it's because there's someone here. Who is it?"
"You think I'm gonna fucking tell you?"
Annabeth moved her wrist a fraction of an inch and pulled the trigger; a bullet embedded itself into the ground a finger-width away from Percy's thigh. "Who is it?" she asked, cocking the gun again, and aiming it back at his face, right at the spot next to his nose, under his eye.
"Goddamnit, it's my mom, but I'm not telling you anymore," he said fiercely, his eyes taking on a darkness she'd yet to encounter. This was her first villain, her first job.
"I have to kill you," she told him, her hands starting to tremble. God, how could she kill a person? Another human being just trying to get by? How could she murder someone who's looking out for his mother? Who has a beating heart, working lungs, and a horribly beautiful face. How could she do that?
For a second, Percy's eyes grew soft. He saw himself in her. He saw the innocent and pure parts gathering at her fingertips, ready to burst out as soon as she pulls the trigger. He saw the kid who only wants to prove himself, about to make the biggest mistake anyone can make.
Annabeth felt her breath pick up. Now what does she do? Pull the trigger? She couldn't. Not enough training and dummy's could prepare her for this moment. A part of her yearned to put the gun down and walk away, another screamed that as soon as she did, he'd kill her in the blink of an eye.
A tear slid down her cheek. She cursed, wiping it with her shoulder. God, she felt pathetic.
Percy frowned, seeing far past the ice cold gun on his nose. "Hey," he said, not truly understanding why he's actually doing this, "if it's any consolation, you're doing great so far, but that's enough now."
Swiftly, he ducked under the aim of the gun and used his leg to swipe her's out from under her. Annabeth hit the floor with a thud. Percy picked up her gun which skid away from them. He clicked off the safety. "It was cruel of them to make you fight me-you could never have won. It's not your fault."
She looked up at him. "It was my choice."
He bent down next to her. "Get out of this while you still can, kid. Trust me, nothing is worth this. You're first kill ruins you for life; you'll never get out if you go on."
Annabeth's pulled herself up on her elbows. "Kill me," she asked him.
He jerked away from her, as if she'd touched him with a hot knife. "What?"
"I'll never get out alive. Please," she begged. "I don't want this- I don't want this life, please kill me." Tears streamed freely from her eyes. "Please.."
Percy didn't know what to do. One moment, she'd been dead set on killing him, and the next she's begging him to kill her.
So he does.
Because he's a monster and a criminal, sentenced to a life living in the shadows, praying to never be caught while he sleeps, and nothing can change that. Not even a girl. A girl who happened to be the closest one to killing him. He closed her eyes for her, since she no longer could.
The stair entrance to the roof was busted open and an army of soldiers rushed on the roof, guns blazing. Percy looked down at Annabeth for the last time.
She set him up.
It was a suicide mission. She brought him to this roof, somehow she got him to do that, and long before she had called backup. And he killed her, because she told him to.
Unknowing to anyone, the shock of the situation killed him long before the first of many bullets drove into his chest.
Saturday 18 August, 1987. A Small-ish Town In Virginia. Percy & Annabeth's Apartment.
It's his birthday. And when asked what he wants, he says, "You."
Annabeth feels as though it's really her birthday.
They eat breakfast so early, so that the day is theirs and eating is a small, minor detail to be looked into later. Then they lay in bed, curled up against each other, in just their underwear so their skin can touch.
He tells her he loves her, and she runs her fingers through his hair, and kisses him. He drags his fingertips over her skin, giving her goosebumps up and down her arms.
He pecks a kiss on her neck while she tells him another goofy story about her stupidly funny friends. She laughs and tells him to stop.
They whisper sweet-nothing's over the pillows that no one else could hear.
They tell stories they've already told each other.
She tells him she loves him and he says, "I know."
He tells her that she looks ten times better in his leather jacket, on his motorcycle, than he does and she says, "I know."
By the time the sun goes down, the two of them were long into sleep, clutching to each other as he spends his first day as a fresh, new nineteen year old kid. A nineteen year old who has his whole future wrapped sweetly in his arms.
They sleep so soundly, so deeply, so so in love, that they don't hear the building's fire alarms, or the loud banging at the door and the landlord screaming something about a horribly fatal gas leak in their building before he ran the hell out of there. They didn't even realise what happened, because dying in your sleep is so subtle and unknowable until it's already done and over with.
The issue was, the fumes killed them both far before the raging fire did.
Neither seemed to notice, all wrapped up tight and warm and so so in love.
Tuesday 25, A Long Time Ago. 8:17 a.m. A Village Outside a Kingdom In Europe Somewhere. Town Hall. Execution Time.
She was put on for trial, and they found her guilty.
Annabeth's father, as of one week and three days ago, attempted to assassinate the Prince, a man who set laws forbidding equality of any kind. Women and children were to weave and stay at home, tending to the house and keeping things clean until the husbands and fathers arrive. God-forbid you are anything other than stark white, or it's to the streets with you.
Frederick, Annabeth's father, along with plenty other of the town's people, immediately decided that this law is, to be frank, stupid. None of them went as far as to attempt murder, but Mr. Chase wasn't always the most sane.
When he bolted after things went sideways and the Prince came out unscathed, the town put on trail the next Chase they could find. Which happened to be Annabeth.
And she's guilty. Annabeth is held accountable and will be punished by law because her father, her crazy father, attempted murder and then ran.
"Eye for an eye," they tell her. Her punishment is death. She's going to die for this, and there's nothing she can do.
The entire town gathers. It's like a nasty open wound. You don't want to look, because you know it's only going to freak you out, but you'll so regret it if you don't just take a peak. So the entire town gathers.
Including Annabeth's mother, her friends, the baker, his wife, the farmer, and even the milk boy-the milk boy who brings fresh milk to her door every morning. Percy, she believes his name is.
They all watch, observe, listen, cringe, pray, as Annabeth stands tall above them, under the shade of the tall tree planted right next to Town Hall. She doesn't know why they'd do it here. Why they would put such a disgusting place-a place where she and many others will die-right next to a building everyone gathers at least once a week. Annabeth would hate having to pass by a murder spot everytime she wants to find out about when the farmer's coming in.
The rope wraps loosely around her neck, soon to be tight. Very, very tight. She glances around at the curious faces, but only makes eye contact with the milk boy, Percy.
He has a single rose in his front shirt pocket. Whether it's for her or another maiden in town, it doesn't matter. She's going to die anyway.
The official that stands next to Annabeth repeats her information and her sentence. It's so superficial. Her entire life behind her, and all she gets is this. A measly death for a sorrowful crime.
The priest places a hand on her shoulder and prays for her and her safe passage onto the afterlife, or whatever comes next. Annabeth glances up again at her mother, her beautiful mother, and then again at the milk boy. Percy mouths to her, "I'll see you again, love. Another time; another, brighter day."
Annabeth feels goosebumps on her arms, but before she has time to truly react, the ground is swept from under, and pain, unlike she's ever felt before, squeezes tight around her neck. She suffocates for moments, choking and struggling, before falling still.
Even though, in this one, they don't go together, a piece of him died when she did.
Hello hello there
Ik i already uploaded today but i guess i just felt like uploading again. This was very short, i know, but it was kinda hard trying to find the different times and situations I wanted to put them in. I felt like each one had to start out one way and take such a dark turn that you just can't even omg. But seriously, i'm a sucker for plot twists.
Review if you'd like, you don't have to but i would so appreciate it!
Shout out to mah girl HelenOfTroy for being the first to read and give me her thoughts on it. I love u lady!
Have a great day! Or week! Or month! Or even your year, cause I'll be there for youuuuuuuu… i'm sorry i couldn't help myself.
-leigh