AN: I thought of this while watching tv tonight while it was storming. So much so that there's a flood warning. Anyway, the rain inspires me. So here you are, lovelies.
She could hear the thunder roll as she sat there. It rolled and rolled, far away, perhaps where he could hear it. And the rain slammed, crashed against the windows and frame of the cabin.
All of the sudden, it was too much. She was suffocating, unbearably unable to breathe. The air was thick with stifled screams and held back tears. It was a fog of fake smiles and being strong for a horrible amount of time with nothing but unanswered prayers for the outcome. She tore out of the prison, gulping down the rain-fresh air.
She ran to the beach. It was in turmoil. Gray and black waves crashed hard, hard, hard against the sand. The churning sea bucked and crashed back onto itself.
Falling onto the sand, she let herself get drenched. In ocean spray, in rain, in tears. It hurt so much. He was so far gone and Olympus had closed again. She kept waiting and waiting to no avail. It had been three months! Where were they keeping him?
She finally screamed. Here, where no one could find her, where no one would see her weak, she broke down. She allowed herself to scream and cry and mourn. It had become too much.
Sometime afterwards, she found herself, dripping wet, in his cabin. It was a mess, just the way he left it. She fell into the bed, pulling the blue sheets around her and breathed deeply in between sobs. It smelled like him. Like ocean and his cologne and the faintest scent of his favorite perfume on her. It was perfect and yet so horribly awful and miserable at the same time.
For where he should be was only a dripping wet, disheveled blonde who needed her better half and was dangerously close to dying without him.
