A/N: This idea came to me in a dream at the beginning of summer, but putting it into words was proving to be more difficult than I anticipated, hence why it took so long.
It was originally meant to be a oneshot, but I realized there were so many things I could and might do with this that it was starting to be too long, so I'm going to break it down into an indefinite number of chapters. If any of you have any ideas on what Annabeth can talk and teach Percy about, or what you'd like to see her explain to him, please send it to me in a comment or a private message or whatever. I look forward to hearing anything from you guys, really, your comments and reviews really do inspire me to write more.
Oh, and please note that this chapter was un-beta'd and since English isn't my first language, all of the mistakes you might catch are entirely my own.
So without further ado, read on and enjoy!
Disclaimer: Rick Riordan owns all the characters used within.
Like always, he struts his way into the reception, coffee and donuts in one hand and his walking aid in the other. His smile stretches wide and optimistic, his eyes undoubtedly gleaming behind his dark shades.
His warm hellos and good mornings are met with equally warm and delighted responses, the smiles he can't see coming through in their voices. The women behind the desk have known him all his life, watching him grow up. They've indulged him through his "girls are gross" phase; teased him all through his awkward puberty "girls are alright…" phase; and are now supporting him and trying to set him up with girls through his "I'm ready for a relationship" phase.
He's grateful, but also mortified as Jenna and Rosie tell him all about the girls they see coming and going, which are worthy of him, or which have been gossiping about him. They didn't even leave out the dirty comments some women had to say about him.
They're worse than his mother sometimes.
He's just finished signing in when he hears it through a door somewhere behind him – the library, he assumes, judging by the sound of heavy objects thudding to the ground – and notices Jenna and Rosie growing silent after a heavy sigh. He doesn't even ask when Rosie supplies him with the details.
"New girl. Your own age. Accident involving chemicals. Apparently she was an A+ student, so she's not dealing well with her new inability to read. Braille's giving her a hard-"
He doesn't let her finish because he's already turning and making his way through the layout he has memorized.
The door creaks when he pushes it open, and the sound of shuffling papers and dark mutterings stops, a tense silence settling into the room before he hears her voice.
"Is someone there?"
She sounds so tired and broken to his ears. His insides flutter as her tone upsets him.
He make a conscious effort to infuse his voice with softness and comfort.
"Hi, I'm Percy Jackson. I'm one of the regulars, and I heard you were new here. So I thought I'd come say hello, and see if you needed anything."
There's another heavy silence. Percy's just starting to squirm when she speaks again.
"Percy? Like Percival?"
He grins lopsidedly, remembering how Jenna always says it makes him all the more endearing. He inexplicably feels himself blush at the memory.
"No, actually. More like Perseus. You know, from Greek mythology."
"That's even weirder."
"My mother says my dad was Greek, hence the name. His name was Poseidon."
"Wow. Poor guy, how does he live with that?"
Percy sounds amused.
"I wouldn't know. He's been lost at sea since before I was born, according to my mom. Pretty ironic, isn't it?"
Percy hears the apology ringing clear in her voice.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" her sigh is deafening, "I've been acting like a rude brat lately-"
He hurries to reassure her.
"It's not a problem, really. Considering what you're going through and all the changes that come along with it, you could have been worse. Mind if I come in?"
"No, come on in. it's nice to have some company. I think I've scared away everyone else. I'm Annabeth, by the way. Annabeth Chase."
Percy easily makes his way to her side, a faint smile still playing at his lips.
"It takes a lot more than snark about my name to scare me away, Wise Girl."
He sits with her silently while she shuffles some more books around by the sound of it before she casually asks him what his story is.
"Nothing much. I was born this way. I practically grew up here. Jenna and Rosie are as much my moms as Sally Jackson is. And twice as embarrassing; you should see them trying to set me up on dates."
She laughs, but he hears some pain in it. He cringes internally at his word choice.
Idiot. She can't 'see' anything, way to go rubbing it in her face.
He tries to amend his mistake. She smiles and – out of habit – waves him off.
"Don't be a Seaweed Brain, I know it was just a figure of speech. Being overly sensitive about what words people use is the last of my worries."
Still, he offers an apology, which warms her heart; it isn't often that people care enough to not offend or hurt her feelings.
Out of nowhere, Percy speaks up, immediately feeling the heat in his cheeks after.
"Can I touch your face?"
At her silence, he feels the need to elaborate.
"I was just wondering what you look like. Although I suppose you would be able to just tell me…"
He is definitely a Seaweed Brain.
Her hand is cold when it finds and covers his. She raises it to her face, and he feels her holding in her breath. He worries his hand is too cold, but then he makes contact with soft, warm skin and his concerns evaporate.
He keeps his touch light, feathering it across her face to get a general idea of what she looks like.
She feels his touch falter and shake, hears his breath hitching when his fingertips find her lips. Her heart stops for a moment longer than she'd like to admit when his thumb gently brushes along her lower lip as his hand tentatively pulls away.
Pull yourself together, Annabeth, you've just met him…
It takes Percy a few minutes, and a couple of attempts at clearing his throat before he can speak again.
"You, um, ehem, you fee-feel really n-nice."
He wishes the earth would open up and swallow him down to Hades.
Annabeth, for her part, has recovered faster than he has, and is boldly asking if she can feel him next.
He blushes so hard he's sure a vessel should have burst in his face by now.
Nevertheless, he slowly guides her hand to his face, smiling when he feels her fumbling around and clearly unsure of what she's supposed to do. His smile turns to a smirk when she seems to be paying a little extra attention to his scratchy, stubble-covered jawline.
Retracting her hand after a minute, Annabeth mumbles something about still not being able to tell what he looks like beyond the fact that – based on that chiseled jawline – he's definitely Greek.
"If it helps, I'm told I have black hair that's always messy, and sea-green eyes that I shouldn't hide behind such dark sunglasses all the time. My mom says I look just like my father. Apparently, I'm tall too; 6 feet exactly."
Annabeth smiles, a better image forming in her mind.
"I'm not too short myself, 5'9". Blonde curly hair, and gray eyes. My friends always thought I had a terrifying glare…"
Percy chuckles, and calls her beautiful.
Annabeth blushes before paling.
He was born blind. He doesn't know what any of these attributes mean.
"… and I just realized that these words mean nothing to you."
"True, but I don't mind. Talking about this seems to make you relax, so I'll just sit here and smile, looking pretty."
She has no doubt in her mind that he is pretty, and very much so.
"Well, why don't I try and explain some of it for you?"
He cocks an eyebrow, but the idea intrigues Percy. Nobody has ever been able to explain to him what color his eyes are, or what the difference between blond and black is.
"Hit me with your best shot, Wise Girl. Tell me about your eyes."
She blushes. She expected him to ask about himself.
Clearing her throat, Annabeth takes a minute to think about his request, "Well, they're gray. That's the color you get when you mix white with black. It's also the color of days without sunlight; the color of storm clouds that have gathered so much water and ice that they're so dense not even light can get through.
Then those same storm clouds would release all that they've been keeping within their tight confines, and that's when you need to take shelter. And in case you're one of the few brave – or stupid – enough to attempt facing the storm head on, I hope you know how to tame it because the gray storm is merciless and you'll fall to it.
If gray was a feeling, it would be those moments when you're alone and unwatched, and a gloomy sense settles over you, hollowing out your insides. If gray was a mental state of mind, it'd be seriousness and logic. I guess it's fitting, considering I am practically the embodiment of those qualities."
"They sound scary," jokes Percy.
"My dad used to joke that they flashed a steely gray in the morning; that's how he knew I was on the warpath for coffee."
Percy lets out a bark of laughter.
Annabeth smiles, and continues, "I was always told they were intense. My best friend – she's so gorgeous that I've always teased her that she's probably the daughter of Aphrodite – would say that woe befalls whoever was unfortunate enough to incur my wrath and glare. She always told me that there are moments when the light catches my eyes at just the right angle and turned them a shade of silver bordering on blue; she said that's when I looked my youngest, and carefree – happy. Silver is a kind of precious metal, you see; people make jewelry out of it all the time. Jewelry makes people happy."
"And blue?"
"Blue is the color of many things. The incomprehensibly vast sky above alone can be so many different shades of blue in the span of a day, it's dizzying.
Blue is warm – not like the warmth or heat of a fire – rather it's more emotional than physical. It's like the fuzzy feeling you might get in the pits of your stomach when you're in the company of a loved one, or the feelings that the taste of your mother's cookies elicit.
Blue is immeasurable and mysterious and ever-changing. With its delightfully light shades to its seductively dark hues, blue just leaves you wondering, craving, and curious for more."
Percy swallows. He's suddenly overcome with a desperate feeling he hasn't had in a few years – not since his "angry teenager" years – but all he can think about in this moment is how badly he wishes he could see because now all he wants to do is get swept away in the different layers of Annabeth's eyes.
Annabeth, for her part, is acutely aware of the slight heat in her cheeks that – on the rare occasion that she's felt it – means she's blushing. She's left wondering what on earth possessed her to say all of that, talk about colors so… intimately. Even more jarring, she realizes, is that she's talking about colors that are so personally her.
She can feel a presence close to her face again, and her mouth goes dry as Percy's hand finds her hair.
"I've got a decent idea what 'curly' is, but maybe you can tell me about blonde?"
Annabeth feels his hand drop from her hair, and she lets out a breath as she quenches the disappointed feeling inside her before it bubbles up too much.
"Well, blonde is kinda like yellow. Yellow is a bright color, and it comes in a lot of shades. For example, the sun is really bright; people can't look at it head-on. Corn is yellow too. So is honey."
She pauses, realizing that she's being super analytical and logical about it, describing yellow in term of things that Percy will never comprehend. As Annabeth tries to come up with a different method to explain things, Percy interrupts to offer his input.
"I like honey. I have it with cheese and bread."
So Annabeth decides that she needs to stick to explaining this to him in relation to feelings, even if she's not always the best at dealing with them herself. But Percy's never experienced any of the things she has, doesn't even understand the most basic things like what colors are, so she feels an unexplainable need to do this for him. It's the least she can do for the boy who's disregarded her rudeness and only wants to help and be her friend.
"Yellow can be sweet like honey, I suppose. It can be the color of wonder and curiosity, bright and illuminating and the color of the metaphorical light bulb that goes off over your head when you've had a great idea. It's a soft and soothing color, reminiscent of the warm feeling of the sun on your face during a lazy spring day. It's cheerful and promises new beginnings like the chirps of little baby birds that have just hatched from their eggs."
Annabeth likes to think that maybe Percy's smiling right now because who doesn't smile at the thought of any kind of baby animal? That's why she's kinda feeling guilty about describing yellow as anything negative.
"But it can be dangerous too; in the animal kingdom, the brighter your color, the more other beings need to stay away from you. There's a reason conventional symbols for electricity or lightning are seen in yellow – yellow can be a warning; don't get too close or you might get hurt beyond repair. Yellow can inspire agitation and intimidation; it's bright and bubbly, confident and challenging which sometimes can overwhelm and scare some people."
Annabeth can feel the yellow-tinged tension in the room as they both fall silent, Percy seemingly waiting for her to continue. So she sighs, and tells him how much she hates being a blonde, much to his surprise.
"Being blonde comes with the stereotype that I'm not very intelligent or that – to put it bluntly – I'm stupid. Yellow, for me, is associated with hate because I hate the color of my hair since it's made me work three times as hard as anyone else to prove that I can match someone's wit in a battle of intellects, if not downright outsmart them."
Annabeth trails off after that, not sure what else there is to say, when Percy speaks up. His voice is kind and his words are coated entirely in gratitude.
"You just helped me understand three new things about the world, Annabeth, and you used nothing but words, and that's something a lot of people have tried to do for me. It takes a special kind of smart to be able to help a blind kid see some colors in his otherwise dark world and you did it, Wise Girl. So be proud of yourself, and your hair color."
Annabeth smiles, a genuine smile that hasn't graced her face since her accident because who knew that a few words about her hair and eyes could turn into so much more? She found herself desperate to keep talking to Percy, start telling him about all these other things in the world around them because that awe-filled tone of voice and fascinated silence as he listens to her babble is something she isn't used to getting, but finds herself rapidly getting attached and addicted to it.
She would very much like to get to know Percy better, understand him and learn what makes him tick.
But she doesn't get to keep talking to him because suddenly she hears the doors creak open and a woman's voice filters through the air, telling Percy that he should come right away because someone named Nico is back. She hears, and more importantly, feels Percy's nerves and flustered state set in as he stumbles over his words and stutters out a rushed apology as he excuses himself and hastens to leave.
Annabeth's gracious about it, telling him not to worry about it and that it was nice to meet him. She's silently delighted when he reciprocates her feelings and promises to find her again so he can badger her into teaching him more things, all while promising to help her transition into her new life with as much ease as possible.
Percy, for his part, tries his luck one more time as he pauses by the door and turns his head to speak his goodbye over his shoulder,
"I'll 'see' you around, Wise Girl."
Annabeth smiles.
"No, you won't, Seaweed Brain."