Disclaimer: I do not own the Percy Jackson series or any of its characters or plot.

Together

"'We're staying together,' he promised. 'You're not getting away from me. Never again.'"
(The Mark of Athena, page 568)

"Annabeth?"

Blearily, Annabeth opened her eyes. Percy was leaning over her, looking more worried than Annabeth had ever seen him.

He was hardly ever worried, Percy. Percy was the kind of guy who could keep his head in the most dangerous situations, and even tried to hide his fears—but then, this place was bound to change them both, sometime.

Percy's left hand was bloodied even as it was covered up in bandages, and his eyes had long lost their cool, sea-green color, now nothing more but a dull shade. His face was white, and there were dark circles around his eyes, though now he looked more worried for her than himself.

Annabeth's eyes filled with tears despite her best efforts to blink them back. How long had they been in Tartarus? A week? A day? Time was never real, here; everything was always too slow, or too fast, and Annabeth wanted to just give up.

The past few days were like a living nightmare—no, worse than a living nightmare, because it was far, far worse than anything Annabeth could've dreamed of. Every day (or was it every minute?), one monster after another. They were probably lucky that they hadn't met Kronos's bits and pieces yet.

But as selfish as she knew she sounded, she couldn't help but be grateful Seaweed Brain was with her—sometimes she felt as if he was the only thing keeping her sane, down here, where she would most certainly have never made it alone.

Tentatively, she reached out her right arm to take his uninjured hand—and immediately pulled back, pain shooting up her shoulder. She glanced down and found a long, deep graze down her arm.

"No—no, hold still," Percy gulped, lunging for her backpack and pulling out what Annabeth knew was the last of their ambrosia. "Here—you eat this," he started to say, but froze when Annabeth shook her head.

"No," she said firmly, though her voice felt hoarse. "I can go without it."

"What?" he asked in disbelief, staring at her. Annabeth stared back until finally his eyes softened. "Wise Girl, we can't stop now—"

"Who said we were stopping?" Annabeth asked. Percy blinked. "It's just—if I eat that, we'll be out of supplies."

"So?"

"Seaweed Brain—"

"Well, it's not like you can go around like this," Percy told her. "There's a hundred monsters every corner—"

"Percy, I tricked Arachne with a Bubble Wrap cast on my ankle," Annabeth said, giving an exasperated sigh, though in truth she was a little touched. "I'll live."

Percy bit his lip and nodded. "Alright."

Annabeth glanced around her. They were in some sort of cave; it seemed safe for the moment, and free of monsters. Relief swept through her. "Seaweed Brain?"

"Yeah?"

"How long do you think we've been here?" She'd told herself she shouldn't be thinking about things like these, but sometimes there was just nothing else to think about.

Percy cringed. They'd lost count of the days ages ago. "I don't know—three days, maybe? A week?" He sighed. Annabeth stared at him. "Annabeth, what if—what if something happens—"

"We'll be okay," Annabeth assured him immediately. "We'll face it together." She hardly dared to believe her own words.

"Together," Percy mumbled, sitting down beside her and stuffing the ambrosia back into the backpack. He slid an arm around her, taking care not to touch her shoulder. "As long as we're together."

And Annabeth clung to those words, repeating them inside her head whenever she felt like giving up, because she knew—and Percy had better know it, too—that they would be fine, they would be alright, as long as they were together.

And one week, three days, nine hours, and fifty-eight minutes later (Annabeth knew, because she'd started counting the seconds again), they got out of Tartarus—but Annabeth knew, she simply knew, that she never would've if they hadn't been together, side-by-side.

AN: I have this awful fear of thinking these are out-of-character and that it's too perfect. Please do reassure me through the pleasure of reviews and constructive criticism.

(To Paul, who urged me to write a story about the Percy Jackson series because he'd like to read it.)