State of Grace
"These are the hands of fate
You're my Achilles heel
This is the golden age of something good
And right and real."
Annabeth laid on the balcony of the Plaza Hotel, the slash on her side a sickly color of green, oozing out of the bandages around it. Her face was pale, the poison slowly seeping through her system as she waited for the nectar to do its job of cleaning out the wound. Will Solace had used all of the energy he had left to heal her, and left her out on the balcony to get some fresh air and alone time. Percy sat next to her, quiet, looking disheveled but unharmed.
He explained to her what had happened back there, how she had saved him from the blade of Ethan Nakamura, the blade that was going to stab him right in the small of his back. His Achilles point. How had she known that? Her instincts had told her that Percy was in danger, that she needed to move to protect him right then, and her instincts hadn't failed her. But now, she was paying the price for her sacrifice; a small sacrifice, she would say, if it had saved Percy's life. It did.
She sat in silence, drinking in his explanation of the Achilles process. She was his tether. Annabeth had been what reeled Percy back out of the river, his lifeline to the mortal world. Her silence was a sign of awe - Percy felt so deeply connected to her, that he remained in the mortal world for her and her alone. She had kept him here once again, saving his life by taking the cursed knife that would have ended his life, and led to the fall of Olympus. She felt like bursting into tears, or punching him, or anything, but she could barely move. Instead, she gave him a weak smile, gave him some witty remark about being a Seaweed Brain, and moved on. He trusted her with his life, with his tether to the mortal world, with the location of his Achilles point. The small of his back was his Achilles heel, but he was hers.