Summary: Sea-green eyes.
Black, messy hair.
Crooked grin, that always did such a poor job of hiding what he thought.
The worst jokes that somehow made her laugh every time.
The way she knew his moves before he even thought about doing them, and he the same for her.
Him, all of him.
And this was only a small part of the list of things Annabeth has to get used to live without.
Notes: Posted this a while ago on AO3, but I wanted it to be here too, so... here it is. I hope you enjoy! And...
I'm sorry? I know, I'm mean. But I really wanted to write, and for some reason everything blocked except this.
Also I want to apologize, because english's not my first language, and I definitely should've proofread this more than I did, so hm.. sorry?
Disclamer: still not Rick, I don't own the characters, you know the drill.
The title's from Dust Bowl Dance by Mumford and Sons and hasn't really anything to do with the story, but also the sentence is nice and kind of fits I think.
Sea-green eyes. Black, messy hair. Crooked grin, that always did such a poor job of hiding what he thought. The worst jokes that somehow made her laugh every time. The way she knew his moves before he even thought about doing them, and he the same for her. Him, all of him.
And this was only a small part of the list of things Annabeth has to get used to live without.
Let's just say, it's not working very well. It has been a month, but Annabeth still feels like she did when she learned. When she'd seen him fall on his knees, and had instantly known that it was all over. That even water wouldn't heal him, not this time. She'd managed to kill the monster she'd been struggling with in no time, her emotions pushing her to get it over with, and she'd run to him, of course she'd run to him, but it was already too late. She'd arrived just in time to see his bright eyes closing, whispering "I love you... tell mom I love her too," or at least that's what she thinks he was saying, because he had been talking so low it was hard to understand.
Everything that had happened after that was still a blur. All she remembers is that for a moment, she'd hesitated. There had been monsters everywhere, eager to shed more blood, and for a moment, she'd thought about not fighting back. What's the point, after all? Percy's dead. After that, she'd shaken her head, instincts kicking in. I'm Annabeth Chase. I've been through a lot, but I'm still here. Now's not the time to give up. So she got up, and she did fight for her life. She fought, and she survived, and she came back to Camp Half-Blood.
She'd tried to act as normal as she could after that, and sometimes she even thought the others believed her. But deep down, she knows something was broken, something that would never fully heal, if it healed at all. Being a half-blood, and living the life she does, she has already seen countless deaths, deaths she wasn't sure at the time she'd overcome. Luke, Bianca, Beckendorf, Silena. She'd lost count a while ago. But with time, it became easier. Not like it used to be, because you can't get used to a world without someone you cared about, not really, but it became a new norm.
This time, however, she knows she'll never fully recover. It's Percy. Her person. And she'll never see him again.
Sometimes, one of their-her friends comes and tries to take her mind off of things. So she does what they ask, and for a while they all pretend like everything's alright, but it's not and they all know it. Annabeth knows how hard it must be for them too, how Jason must feel when he asks her to spare with him, surely remembering when he trained for hours with Percy, or when Hazel tells her about what happened in Alaska, about everything Percy didn't have time to tell her himself. She knows when the others think about her, they think about Percy too. It had always been the two of them, even when they were apart. Percy and Annabeth. Annabeth and Percy. It had always been like that, and was meant to stay that way.
But it didn't, and just this thought is hard to accept for Annabeth. So she busies herself, at camp, at home, at school, she always has something to do. It doesn't matter though, because even the things she loved the most don't make much of a difference now. In every book she reads, she knows what Percy would've laughed at. In every blueprint she draws, she imagines which room he'd like the most. He's everywhere, and he's nowhere at all. And it's hard.
One day, it gets so bad, Annabeth just snaps. It's the middle of the night, and she sneaks out of Camp. She doesn't warn anyone, she just leaves, and she runs, she runs, so fast that it hurts to breathe, but she keeps going, because it helps her think and she now has an idea of where she's running to. Never slowing down her pace, she keeps going until she reaches a small, quiet beach, one she'd seen on maps but never actually visited.
She sits, her feet in the water, and for some reason it calms her down. It's a place where she can think of Percy, without all the memories flooding in because there are no memories here, it's a place neither of them has ever visited. And it might seem weird, but that's what Annabeth needs. There's nothing to make her nostalgic of some time in particular, and, the waves crashing on her legs, she begins to make her peace with Percy's death.
She realizes it's pretty late, and the beach is quiet, except for the sound of the waves that lulls her to sleep, and her last thought is that she'll live her life, for both of them, and it will never get easier, but it's what Percy would want, so she'll be okay.