HAPPY CHRISTMAS IN JULY! HELL YEAH, EXCUSES TO MAKE GINGERBREAD IN THE SUMMER!
For Christmas in July, I thought I would a) make it known that I am not dead and still interested in writing when I have the time and b) put a spin on one of my favourite fairy tales ever, The Little Match Girl- which is a lovely but horrible holiday tale. I say that, but it truly is wonderful and I need to wrap this author's note up before I start telling you about Hans Christian Andersen's revolutionary approach to fairy tales. I hope you all enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
The Candlelight Girl
So there was the little girl, walking along in her bare feet that were simply blue with cold. In an old apron she was carrying a whole lot of matches, and she had one bunch of them in her hand. She hadn't sold anything all day, and no one had given her a single penny… Lights were shining in every window, and out into the street came the lovely smell of roast goose. You see, it was New Year's Eve; that's what she was thinking about.
-Hans Christian Andersen, The Little Match Girl
Percy hurried down the sidewalk, anxious to get out of the cold even if he'd only step into the building for a second to pick up Annabeth and plunge right back. He pushed open the doors of Jacobs and Wilhelm, and the heat nearly hurt his ears as soon as it hit him. Annabeth was answering emails on her phone, leaning against a wall. She'd twisted her hair into a bun and put on a red dress for the office Christmas party, which left her legs bare from the knee down. She looked beautiful, but she was going to freeze.
« Seaweed Brain, » she said looking up. She looked relieved to see him. The crease disappeared from her forehead fairly quickly, but Percy could tell. She put her phone back in her bag and crossed the floor. "You're freezing."
"It's not pretty outside," he said. He kissed her nose.
"You're cold, get off."
"Happy Christmas Eve." He'd worked the graveyard shift and had only come home after she'd left that morning- not that he was complaining, if that was the price to pay to have Christmas off.
"Happy Christmas Eve," she replied. "Did you find your early present?"
"Oh was that what those pajamas and popcorn and socks and candies were wrapped up for?" Percy said.
She elbowed him. "After we come from your mom's."
"After," he agreed. "I hope you had a light lunch, because she's planning on feeding us until we explode."
"I wouldn't expect any less," Annabeth said. She looped her arm in his and they plunged back into the cold.
Percy had to walk a fair bit slower than he had to get there- Annabeth still took slow, careful steps. Just last week she'd slipped on a patch of ice and had torn her stitches.
Of course, this meant he was even more frozen than anticipated when they got to Mom and Paul's apartment. Percy could smell supper as soon as they hit the right floor. The smell of fresh bread particularly got Percy salivating.
« I've been waiting for this all day, » Annabeth said, a smile on her lips. She loved Christmas. Actually, it was more than that. Everybody loved Christmas, but Annabeth had learned to adore it when she'd spent her first Christmas outside of camp and with a family. When a stocking was hung specifically for her, when there was a tree to add her ornaments to, when somebody picked up on the casserole or dish she really, really liked and vowed to make it regularly.
Percy knocked once and let himself in, shouting "It's us" into the apartment.
Harper Jane turned the corner at a hundred miles an hour and threw her arms around Percy's neck, feet lifting off the floor.
"Hey there," Percy said, squeezing his little sister into a hug. She was eight years old now, which felt unfair to Percy- that and how cute she was. She was currently wearing a red dress with a little white cardigan. Since she hadn't had school today, her hair wasn't braided back and the crazy blonde curls fell around her face, though bows had been pinned near her ears.
"Janie, be gentle with your brother," Mom called from the kitchen.
"You've only got one, don't break him," Paul said, scooping up Harper Jane. He hugged Percy and Annabeth both before taking their coats- which Percy thought was hilarious, since they basically still lived in this apartment and knew where everything was (and were not shy to help themselves to it all, either).
"It smells great Mom," Percy said. "Come on Harper, let's go see what's going on."
She put her feet on his and her arms up in the air, and he walked her into the kitchen as if he were a giant. Mom was pulling something out of the oven, as if the apartment didn't smell good enough already. He dropped Janie's hands to give Mom a hug and she kissed his hair and then hugged Annabeth and asked her about work, since Percy had spent the day sleeping and wrapping presents. He had never wrapped a present more than twenty-four hours before giving it in his life. He was lucky that Annabeth was indulgent, because he wasn't very good at hiding them either. They had literally been right under his bed. This year, that had been for the best. He'd found an ornament that he'd bought months ago. It had been a premature purchase then, and it had tied his stomach into a twist now. He'd hidden it right back underneath their mattress this time, and was just happy that he'd been the one to cry over it instead of Annabeth.
Ever since Harper had been born and Percy had moved out, Mom had lost the fight with Mrs. Blofis regarding having to go to the Blofis Family Christmas Supper. She compensated with a Christmas Eve Feast of her own- there was asparagus, stuffed mushrooms, maple carrots, green beans, mashed potatoes, spinach puffs, some kind of artichoke tart that should have been featured on Master Chef, and a meat pie that was to die for.
« See, this is why we still hang out here and won't ever leave," Annabeth said. "Thank you Sally."
"You're welcome, sweetheart," she said. Mom was wearing her Christmas earrings- tiny gingerbread men pinned to her ears- and a warm smile. Harper had wiggled from her chair to sit on Mom's lap to eat her dessert, which was apple cider and gingerbread cookies that Harper had decorated to look like them. Mom kept an arm looped around Harper's waist as she dunked her cookies in a glass of milk, her legs kicking under the table. They looked so cute, so happy, so easily peaceful. Percy's stomach clinched a little bit, and Annabeth was looking at her plate.
Once Paul was done with dishes and Harper had shown Percy the latest order in which she'd organized her stuffed animals, they opened their presents from each other.
Harper made herself a growing nest of wrapping paper as the night went on. By far the best present Percy got was the World's Best Police Officer mug that Harper had made with some sharpies. She'd filled it with blue candy too- what a great sister. Harper was a big fan of the papermaking kit that Percy and Annabeth got her, and of the markers that they got- though she wasn't convinced that Percy was being honest when he swore that those markers would only work on Harper-made paper. Harper burned through markers and crayons like nobody's business. There was only one present that sat strangely, and it was a small package labeled to both Percy and Annabeth that nor Sally or Paul had seen before. Nobody said anything about it since Harper was there, so Annabeth unwrapped it and revealed a small silver matchbox.
"This looks like an antique," Annabeth said.
"Right, so it's from your father," Mom lied through her teeth. She ran her hand through Harper's hair. "Do you remember how Annabeth's dad is a history teacher, sweetheart?"
Percy tucked the matchbox in his back pocket to get it out of the way.
Harper fell asleep on Paul's knees while they finished their cider and watched Elf on TV. Paul woke her up so she could hug Percy and Annabeth goodbye, put cookies out for Santa Clause and put on her pajamas.
"Goodnight, Mom," Percy said hugging her goodbye.
"Goodnight, sweetheart," she said. She put something in Percy's hands- and even if it was wrapped in tinfoil, Percy was sure that it was Mom's eggnog cinnamon bread, their traditional Christmas morning breakfast.
"Here you are," she said, embracing Annabeth now. "You don't need to come by tomorrow morning. Take some time to yourselves, okay?"
Annabeth swallowed. Her eyes glowed for a second, like the icicles outside, and she nodded. Percy took her hand, but he wasn't sure that he was solid enough to help her out any. That was the worst part of all of this, which was saying a lot because the last five months had been some of the hardest Percy could have even imagined.
"Alright," Annabeth said. "Happy Christmas, Sally."
"And you too, sweethearts," Mom said.
And then they were back outside, and somehow the night had gotten even colder.
They didn't talk for a while, they just walked in the dark, hopping from one pool of street light to the next. It was the end of the day, and Percy could tell how tired Annabeth was in how small and slow her steps were.
"Hey," Percy said, stopping in the snow. "How about we call a cab?"
"I'm fine," Annabeth said.
"The doctor said not to overdo it, and you didn't bring your crutches with you-"
"I just said I'm fine," Annabeth said.
"You need to take care of yourself even if-"
"Do not finish that sentence," Annabeth said.
"It's true even if I don't and even if you don't want to hear it," Percy snapped back.
"Stop," Annabeth said. Something in her tone had changed and become more alert, which kept Percy from getting angrier. He listened for whatever had caught her ear, and he heard some coughing.
His hand reached for Riptide, and he took a step towards the alleyway- the source of the sound- first, so that he could cover Annabeth. His heart leaped to his throat; she was not in any shape for a fight if it came to that.
What they found in the alleyway, tucked behind a dumpster, was not as bad but more confusing. There was a child, wearing a tartan dress in black and red and greens, with blonde hair tied back in a French braid and soot on her face and neck and hands.
"Hi there," Annabeth said carefully. Monsters had taken stranger shapes than children. When this one looked up, her eyes were dark like coal.
"Hello," the little girl said.
"Hello," Percy said. "What's your name?"
"My name is Faith," she said.
"That's pretty," Percy said. "How old are you?"
"I think I'm seven," Faith said.
"Cool," Percy said. "So you're in grade two?"
"I don't go to school," Faith said.
"That's… too bad," Annabeth said. "So where do you live?"
The little girl looked around the alley and shivered.
"You must be freezing," Percy said. He unzipped his coat and approached the little girl carefully. He draped it over her shoulder.
"Thank you, mister. It wasn't so bad earlier," the little girls said. She had a little pile of kindle and twigs in front of her. "The fire just went out. Do you have any matches?"
They looked at each other.
"We have something better," Annabeth said. "Blankets, warm clothing, and heating. Come with us, we'll warm you up."
They helped her up and Annabeth told Percy to call a cab. Annabeth wrapped her scarf around Faith, and slipped Faith's hands into her mittens. When they got home, Annabeth went to make her famous hot chocolate (the secret ingredient was cream and milk) and Percy cranked up the heat. Annabeth found a sundress that would fit Faith (okay, it was the white sundress that Annabeth had gotten married in) with a t-shirt and a sweater and a pair of leggings to bundle her up in. Faith didn't want to take her dress off, and so they just threw some blankets around her and plopped her on the couch. They fed her tomato soup and toast and hot chocolate. While she ate, they had a small conference in the kitchen, in hushed tones.
"This is one of those hospitality tests," Annabeth said. "You know… Zeus visits Deucalion and Pyrrha and because they offer him a roof and a meal, he saves them from the flood that wipes out humanity…"
"I don't think this is Zeus, but I see where you're going," Percy said. "She could be a demigod. I mean, children of Demeter are known for being weatherproof. Doesn't Magnus do something similar?"
"Sure," Annabeth said. She filled another cup with hot chocolate. "Let's just try to get her warm now. We should let her sleep in the…. In the spare room," Annabeth said carefully.
Percy felt a chill go down his spine despite the heat, but he nodded. "I'll go set up the spare cot."
Annabeth brought the new mug to Faith, who wrapped her hands around it immediately and thanked them.
« Your hands are still cold," Annabeth said.
"They are," Faith said. "Could you light a fire?"
"We don't have a fireplace," Annabeth said. "We have… candles, if you'd like."
"But let's move you to your room for tonight first, okay?" Percy said, popping back out. "Bring your blankets, we'll make you as comfy as possible."
Annabeth took Faith's hand and led her to the spare room, which was currently decorated as a nursery because they hadn't had the surge of energy or willpower to undo it yet. They had been so proud of the room. They'd borrowed a ladder from Mrs. Zusak next door, for Percy to climb up and pin the fairy lights to the ceiling- not because the baby might be afraid of the dark, but because their parents definitely were. Then they had put stars all over the room to hide the dark. She remembered painting the blue wall, with the moon and the stars in it on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Percy had laughed at her because she'd had a sky chart in her hands of what the sky would look like in September, when the baby would be born. When it was done he admitted that it looked amazing and kissed the spot behind her ear, and they'd gone out for burgers and milkshakes and talked about baby names for the first time- and then it had all disintegrated into suggesting the worst names and laughing and choking on French fries. She remembered scouting out the crib and the furniture, all light wood, and begging the owner of the thrift shop to keep them on hold until she could bring Percy back. On another wall, they'd hung wooden decals of all the letters of the alphabet in order, and underneath they had started stacking the books they were hoping to read. Except at the time it hadn't felt like it was a hope they held, fragile as a glass ornament, it had all felt so sure.
« Whose room is this? » Faith asked.
"For now, it's yours," Annabeth said. "That can be your bed for tonight, Percy's even put our nice sheets on for you."
They got Faith settled in and bundled her right back up. Annabeth undid Faith's curl to comb out the ice bits, and her hair curled around her face then. Percy found some candles that they had been using during the last power outage. When Faith had finished her third cup of hot chocolate, Annabeth tried asking again. She tried to think back to how someone could have asked her these questions when she'd been seven years old, without having her run away.
"Is there anybody who will be looking for you right now that we should know about?" She asked.
"No," Faith said. The question washed off her like water off a duck's back.
"Is there anything that you need?" Annabeth said. Faith was eyeing the candles.
"We can lite those," Percy said. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the silver matchbox they'd found under the tree. He gave Annabeth a look, and she nodded back at him. There had to be a correlation between these two finds- a little girl in the dark, a box of matches under the tree lights.
When Percy scratched the match and the tip lit up, the entire room was bathed in light. He saw a tiny figure standing up in the crib, holding themselves up with the bars, in a little onesie with wispy hair standing up in a cowlick.
He dropped the match and stomped it out immediately. The image disappeared, and so did Faith.
"What was that?" Annabeth asked, pale. "Percy…"
"I saw."
"Percy, light another match," Annabeth said. "Do it."
He scratched the match again. This time, there was a little baby -tiny, absolutely tiny- laying in the crib and crying. Annabeth bounced to her feet.
"I have no idea what's happening," she said quietly. "Percy, it's…"
"I see her too," Percy said. "I mean, it has to be… it has to be Madelyn."
Annabeth nodded, but didn't say anything. She took Percy's hand.
"Who is doing this to us?" Annabeth said. "Who is sending us these…"
"I don't know," Percy said. I don't know but I want it to go away. I want it to go away because we were already working hard enough to keep ourselves together.
Annabeth took the matchbox from him and examined it. Nervously, he gathered up the dishes Faith had used and folded the dishes. Annabeth moved over to the kitchen table and made a rubbing of the matchbox using a pencil and a sheet of paper from her work notebook.
"What did you find?" Percy asked.
"These images- they're not… Look; here's Athena, and there's Dionysus, and the woman with the swan must be Helen of Troy, Aphrodite rising out of sea foam, and the original Pegasus is up here."
"That's a… weird mix of… people," Percy said.
"They're all strange births," Annabeth said. "Athena burst out of Zeus' head fully formed, Dionysus was carried to term in his father's thigh, Helen of Troy hatched from an egg…"
"Excuse me?"
"Zeus turned into a swan to… you know."
"Of course he did," Percy said. "Right. Pegasus was born from the blood spilled from Medusa's severed head, and Aphrodite was… We don't need to talk about how Aphrodite came about."
"This feels strange," Annabeth said. "It's like somebody's taunting us. That's…"
Cruel, Percy thought. Goddamned cruel. On Christmas Eve.
"I want to light another match," Annabeth said. "I want to see what it shows us."
"Why?" Percy said. "Why? What could it possibly show us that could… that could do anything?"
Their plans to bundle up in pajamas and pop some corn and drink hot chocolate in front of the television were long gone, but the hours of silence and crying and holding on to each other and barely being able to look at each other- all of that bubbled just underneath the surface of every day. It was never at bay and it was never far away and Percy didn't know how to fight this thing. But he knew that he didn't want to reach out for the thing that hurt.
"I don't know," Annabeth said. "I don't know, but we have them for a reason."
"Or not," Percy said. "Not everything happens for a reason, even if gods and magic are involved."
"I know just as well as you do," Annabeth said. She got up. "I forgot to take my meds. I'll be back."
She put the matchbox down and slipped into the kitchen. Percy sat down at her spot, and examined the matchbox himself- though there was nothing he would get out of it that she hadn't already seen.
He heard Annabeth open the different bottles and take her medicine for the day- there were antinflamatories, muscle relaxers, pain killers, antidepressants… Other than the concussion, her spleen had ruptured, a few ribs had been broken, she'd dislocated her shoulder, twisted her knee… She'd been back at work for two weeks now, and she only got headaches sometimes when reading now, but Percy felt as if the accident would never be fully healed. Percy had to admit that seeing Faith, a little girl with dark curls and an easy trickster of a smile…
"Annabeth," he called.
"Yes?"
"Let's scratch another match," Percy said. "Let's just… let's see what it shows us."
What the match showed them was this.
Their apartment, bathed in a buttery yellow light that made their scratched kitchen table and their mismatched chairs seem interesting until it distorted everything into a strange, new space.
There was a little girl, maybe five years old, sitting at the kitchen table. Percy heard her voice like an afterthought, like a strange echo coming from the inside of his head rather than the outside.
"A, B, C, D, E, F, G… H, I, J, K…"
The little girl looked up. Three teeth were missing from the top row.
"I forgot the rest," she said. "But not M, L, Y and N because I need those!"
And she started singing the alphabet song again, on a loop until Annabeth smothered the tip of the match between two fingers. She looked at Percy.
"That looked like our old apartment," she said.
"Did it?" Percy said. He was still too stunned to process what she was saying accurately.
"It did," she said. "The wedding photos were hanging over the kitchen table- and the one frame was crooked, no matter what we hung on that nail it was always crooked."
She got up and marched off towards the door.
"Annabeth," Percy said.
"We're going to our old apartment."
"Annabeth, people live there."
"Not to go inside," Annabeth said. "Just to light another match. Percy, I don't know what these matches are, and I don't know who or what Faith was, but…. But that little girl looked exactly like my baby pictures."
"She did," Percy said. He picked up her coat before throwing on his own.
The truth was that if Faith's existence was up for debate, the little girl they were seeing wasn't real. She had never been. Well, she had been. She definitely had been. Annabeth had felt her grow and push into her bladder and kick inside and move for months. But they hadn't even found out she was a girl until they had already lost her. She could have been an Alexander as easily as she could have ended up being a Madelyn, or a Philip or Leah had those names fit her better once they saw her. Annabeth hadn't seen the baby. She read on some forums that parents were often asked if they would like to, but she was unconscious for days after the accident and Percy had been in San Francisco on a quest with Reyna, and the stars didn't align. The little girl they were seeing looked like a Madelyn, and Annabeth knew that she could give her a name, because she was hers. Not like she'd ever known anything in her life before, through books or experiences or facts or experiments or theorems. She just knew. Her father said that if you couldn't explain something to someone, you didn't really understand it- but he was wrong, this was an exception. Annabeth was glad Percy seemed to feel it too since he followed her into the night.
Their first apartment had been a shoebox. Annabeth had found and settled for it on a student budget when she took the internship in New York. The kitchen was a sliver of space, the bathroom never had hot water and she'd slept on a mattress on the floor for most of her time there, but she had been excited to finally have her own place to organize and style and decorate. When Percy had moved in with her and joined the force, they hadn't bothered moving until they'd found out that they would need the extra bedroom for a nursery.
It was on the fifth floor, facing North: the third door from the back of the hall. Whoever lived there now had taped a NO SOLLICITING sign on the door, and added NO CAROLERS in black sharpie.
"Looks like the Grinch took over your bachelorette pad," Percy said.
"It wasn't my bachelorette pad! I installed it specifically so that I'd have a place to hide my Corn Pops from you, and I got a dresser so that you could have some of the closet space. I knew you'd be spending time here too. It was our first place," Annabeth said.
"Except my room is res, which you basically claimed as your own after a week," Percy said.
"Is it my fault that my building had the worst wifi, no heating, and also roommates that walked in naked to steal my highlighters?"
"The dreaded highlighter thieves, yes," Percy said. "It had nothing to do with me. Or the fact that I had more floor space to dump all of your doodles onto."
"Designs, Percy, not doodles."
He smiled a little bit, but not for long. With a mittened hand, he pulled the matchbox from his pocket and handed it to her, as if to say you do it this time. He looked shaken from the last apparition.
Annabeth did the honours. The light from the match shouldn't have been enough to light up the entire hallway, yet it did. Spots of light, like fireflies, intensified near the ceiling and sprouted into tacky chandeliers. Tables grew from the floor, and checked tablecloths appeared over them.
"That's Santiago's," Annabeth said. The restaurant where they had had their first date.
The little girl sitting on the floor colouring the walls with crayons turned to look at Annabeth with panic in her eyes. When she opened her mouth, there were no teeth missing. Her hair was shorter. She slurred her words a little bit more, spoke less well.
"Please don't be mad, Mommy," she said. It went straight to Annabeth's heart. "There was no paper left. You were on the phone. I wanted to draw like you draw."
Forgiveness balled up in Annabeth's throat, not that it mattered. If she reached out to touch the little girl, she would disappear. All Annabeth could do was look at the way her hair was braided neatly, at how her Superman t-shirt and her daisy patterned skirt and rainboots made a strange ensemble. Count the freckles on the little girl's nose. Wonder what colour her eyes would be if she weren't made of light.
"I wanted to draw a building but it was hard so I drew our building and that's daddy coming home from work at the bottom. Is daddy coming home soon or is he working in the nighttime?" the little girl asked. "Do you think he would say okay to make spaghetti tonight or is he going to be tired? If daddy's tired can we order pizza? Or can you cook spaghetti? Can we have spaghetti and pizza?"
Percy laughed under his breath, but it sounded strained and surprised.
"Can we put extra cheese? Uncle Magnus always puts extra cheese. He says not to tell you but maybe telling you will make it okay for you to put extra cheese too mommy? I want to try olives on my pizza like you, mommy."
And the monologue went on. They watched the little girl get up, move around, draw on another wall (she drew a rabbit- because she wanted one, she said) and then get up again and try to do a cartwheel like at gymnastics and then apologized for doing one inside. They watched and watched and watched and counted her freckles again and again until the match burned the tips of Annabeth's fingers and she dropped it. Then they were in the gloomy, badly lit hallway again.
They didn't speak for a while.
"She looked younger," Percy said. "She looked amazing."
"Santiago will be closed, now," Annabeth said. "But the McDonald's we went to after was twenty-four hours I think."
"It was."
Santiago's had been a pseudo-fancy Italian restaurant. The kind of place that was cheap enough for a teenager's budget, but fancy enough to impress a first date (or at least the first date you were going to have in New York City, far away from the Stoll brothers). The food, however, had been horrible. Both times Annabeth's food had been brought back to the kitchen, they had found hair in it. The portions had been small to look fancy, but as soon as they walked out Percy asked her if she wanted to go to McDonald's instead. Once they got there, they had spent hours talking and scarfing down Big Macs and dipping French fries into milkshakes and using plastic utensils to catapult chicken nuggets into each other's mouths (which was the only way Annabeth had ever gotten Percy interested in physics). They had agreed that night to skip the fancy dates, they really didn't need much. When the shift switched over later in the night, the incoming manager recognized Percy and kicked him out because he had once upon a time tried to sneak into the children's playpen with Charles Beckendorf on a dare from the Stolls. The manager had, however, let them buy apple pies before leaving so they just walked around eating those.
To this day the McDonald's was open twenty-four hours, and so they went in. They ordered coffee to warm up and sat in the back, in a spot near the bathrooms from which the cashier couldn't see them light their matches.
Annabeth winced as she sat down and Percy's gaze immediately sharpened when he saw her.
"Is the thing hurting?" Percy asked.
The thing was called a placental abruption, which happened when the placenta detached partially or completely from the inside of the uterus. Percy had read the pamphlets and listened to the doctor carefully over and over, every time a new one explained it. It meant that if there was a baby there, it would run out of oxygen. The doctor had said that the trauma that had caused the abruption, the monster attack, might have caused even more damage than the abruption had. Annabeth didn't know, she had hit her head badly when she'd fallen.
"Yes, the stitches are hurting, they always hurt," Annabeth said. She took a sip of coffee. She drank it black, but the hard, bitter look on her face had nothing to do with that. "Can you please light the match this time?"
Percy felt a bitter taste in his mouth. Hearing Madelyn, the little girl, talk to them on and on and on had been hard. It had been hard not to answer her. It had been hard not to be there with her, because they had gotten so used to her not being there with them. He hadn't seen Annabeth touch the nursery with a ten-and-a-half-foot pole until she'd brought Faith there earlier tonight.
Faith. Percy had always thought that that was a strange name. His mother had impressed the importance of a meaningful name on him. What faith did you expect your kid to have? What did you have to remind them to believe in so much? He'd purposefully pushed for Iphigenia to be Madelyn's middle name- not because he thought it was pretty or normal or anything, but because he'd always been horrified at how the girl in that myth rolled over and let herself be sacrificed for her dad Agamemnon to get some good winds to sail off to Troy with. To remind Madelyn that the old myths were not always right, and that she had to be careful around the godly side of her family. He'd had so much to tell her, so much advice to give her so she would never make any of his mistakes.
Every morning when he helped Annabeth step into the shower or set the table for two, it hit him how much he'd been planning on her. On their two becoming three. He had never felt awkward with Annabeth until that point. He felt even more awkward with her now, on this strange treasure hunt. He felt strange watching Madelyn, since they could barely say her name most of the time. It didn't matter that she hadn't been born, they'd still lost her. It still hurt more than Percy could explain. He'd been written up at work for trying to punch another officer who'd told him that he and Annabeth could try having another baby, because sure, fine, that was true- but it wouldn't be the same. He wasn't sure if they had any business watching her now, in these make-believe match worlds.
"How many matches do we have left?" Annabeth asked.
"Five," Percy said. "Four after this one."
When he scratched the match, the little girl was sitting on the table, hugging her legs and crying. She was even smaller than before- Percy would maybe guess that she was four years old.
"I don't wanna," she cried. "I don't wanna go to school and I don't wanna daddy to be gone when I come back. I wanna daddy to stay. I wanna daddy to read me a bedtime story and not work and-"
Percy dropped the match to the floor and stomped on it to put it out immediately.
"Percy!" Annabeth said. She reached out to grab a match, but Percy grabbed it out of her hand as soon as it sparked, before the light could bathe them in another illusion.
"No," he said. "No, this is… this is insane. I don't want to be here."
The fluorescent lighting felt unreal and the world was upside down and he got up and left without his coffee. Annabeth was on his heels.
"Percy," Annabeth said in the cold tone that reminded Percy of ice cracking under his feet, as if he were about to tumble in. "Percy scratch another match right now before we lose the trail."
"The trail to what," he said.
Annabeth hailed a cab. "It doesn't matter. I saw where she was. Get in the cab."
Percy got in a cab, but he was so flustered and upset and okay fine he was mad, and so he didn't hear her give the driver directions. She came to sit next to him, in the back, but she wouldn't look at him. She stared straight ahead and rubbed her bad knee.
When the cab dropped them off at the entrance of a bridge and Annabeth paid the driver, said you too when he wished them a Merry Christmas and acted like this was a totally normal place to be at 10:58 on Christmas Eve, he couldn't help himself anymore.
"What are you looking for, Annabeth?"
"I'm looking for anything I can possibly find, here," Annabeth said. "What more proof do you want that these matches are magic?"
"I don't care if they're magic," Percy said. "How does this not feel completely wrong to you?"
"It does," she said. "But so does everything, so I don't care."
"How is this…" Percy said. "This isn't helpful. This is picking at a scab while also twisting the knife and making everything worst."
"Worst?" Annabeth snapped back. "We lost a child. How can anything be worst?"
"It can't be," Percy said. "But this is- this is putting us right back in the eye of the storm. Annabeth, I can't imagine what this had been like for you. I really can't, but it's been a nightmare…"
"No," Annabeth said. "No, because you can wake up from a nightmare, but this there's no getting away from. There's no getting away from Madelyn. This is part of us now. And if for whatever reason even a little piece of her is back- if she happens to cross my mind or if some kind of divine intervention puts magical matches in our hands, then goddamnit I'm willing to follow that trail."
"I can't lose her again," Percy said. His voice cracked.
"I lose her every day," Annabeth said. "Every morning I wake up and she's not there. If I hear a baby crying on the subway on my way to work, I look for her but it's not her. I feel kicks that aren't there, Percy."
Percy sucked in a gulp of air and hid his face in his hands. The lighting was shitty, but suddenly he knew exactly where they were.
"The Williamsburg Bridge," he said.
"Where you proposed to me," Annabeth said. "And where we decided to piss of Hera and ruin the sanctity of marriage by eloping and then having a massive party on the beach a month later."
"It's where you got hurt during the Titan War," Percy said. "That was the scariest moment of my life. When I thought I would lose you. That's why I proposed here. To show the universe that I would never let you get hurt."
His voice cracked one last time on the last word, and then he started crying. He hid his face in his hands some more, and Annabeth touched his wrists and lowered his hands.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry."
He couldn't see it through his, but her eyes were full of tears too.
"I should have been with you," Percy said. "You were seven months pregnant. You couldn't move or fight like you usually could have. I should never have let you alone. I should have been walking you to work and home, and I should have been close. I should have been there to help you and to help her and I feel so guilty."
"I feel so guilty," Annabeth said. "It was my job to keep her safe."
"It was my job to keep you safe," Percy said.
"I'm sorry I hurt you."
"It's not your fault. It was never your fault."
"It's not yours either, Seaweed Brain."
That just made Percy cry harder, and he wasn't sure who slumped against who first but pretty soon they were holding each other and crying. Snowflakes were falling from the sky again. The night was only getting colder, but Percy only realized how much he was freezing when they were both cried out and shivering instead of shaking in each other's arms.
« I love you, » Annabeth said.
«I love you too, » Percy said. "I love you so much."
"Do you think lighting the matches will give us closure?" Annabeth asked quietly. Her voice sounded incredibly loud in the silent night.
"We only have three left," Percy said. "I think we'll always wonder if we don't strike them all."
Annabeth held the matchbox while Percy stroked the second to last match against the emery paper.
This time the light seemed bright enough to light up all of New York, like a second sun. There was their daughter, smaller than ever, probably around two years old. She was sucking on a plastic tank engine and when she pulled it out of her mouth, she smiled. Her ears were pierced and two little emeralds glittered there. Her hair was tied up in two little pigtails and she was wearing striped footie pajamas.
Percy felt himself smile back at her, it was contagious. He looked at Annabeth and her lips were pinched, as if she were holding back tears, but they were smiling on their own anyways.
"Trains yummy," Madelyn said. And then she burst out laughing, as if she had made the funniest joke in the world. The laughter was so cute Percy gasped and laughed. He heard Annabeth laugh too.
"She's sitting in front of the Museum of Natural History," Percy said quietly.
"That's the first place you took my dad and my brothers when you had to entertain them in New York without me," Annabeth smiled. "I thought that my dad, Bobby, Matthew and Malcolm all at the same time would burn you out."
"It nearly did," Percy said. "That's also the first time that we kissed in a public place without being thrown into a lake. Or nearly thrown into a lake. Or without anybody making a dick joke. Or Chiron telling us to be discreet." Which was by far the worst of it all.
They watched Madelyn for a little longer, before dipping the match into the snow.
"Okay," Annabeth said. "Okay. I'll call a cab."
The museum, of course, was closed. Security looked at them through the doors, but technically there was no rule against sitting on the steps of the Museum of Natural History at 11:34 PM on Christmas Eve. It wasn't ideal, but hey. That was secondary.
"Okay," Percy said. "Scratch that match before my butt freezes to the steps."
She did, and at their feet sat a little girl. Her hair was short and wispy and for the first time, she was touching them. Using their knees to push herself up to her feet and she looked up and smiled.
"Hello," Annabeth whispered. "You did it."
The little girl answered in gibberish, but there was a 'Mama' in there. Annabeth smiled back at her and looked up at Percy.
"She can't talk anymore," Annabeth said. "It's… she's getting younger and younger."
"I'd say she's one, here," Percy said. The little girl lost her footing and fell flat on her butt and giggled at them. Yup; that's what Harper Jane had been like when she'd been one.
"We're running out of time, then," Annabeth said. "Where is she? Where are we going next?"
Percy looked up. The little girl was so small, especially compared to the statues which surrounded her.
"Central Park," Percy said. "That statue over there- that's Alexander Hamilton."
"How do you recognize Alexander Hamilton?"
"He's my brother," Percy said. "But that doesn't make sense- Balto the sled dog is right next to him, but they're not anywhere near each other…"
The little girl started crying at their feet and Percy and Annabeth got up again. They heard another set of cries, like an echo. The match's light flickered like a bad bulb.
"We have to go," Percy said. "Quickly."
The problem was that Central Park was 843 acres wide, they had no idea where to even start looking for their next spot, and Annabeth was still struggling to walk. The crying didn't stop.
"The statues," Annabeth said. "The statues in Central Park weren't activated during the Titan War. They weren't part of Daedalus Twenty-Three."
"Are they programmed for anything else?" Percy asked.
"They're automatons," Annabeth said.
The first statues they ran to were Romeo and Juliet, holding onto each other and topped with snow like giant cupcakes.
Annabeth immediately got working, muttering to herself in Ancient Greek and looking for a switch or a panel or whatever children of Athena left for each other on twisted, hidden inventions they left for each other across the world. The crying only got louder in Percy's ears now, but there was nothing he could do, except for drawing Riptide.
Annabeth cheered and said something like 'suck it' which had no real translation in English. The two lovers unwound from each other's' embrace. Romeo dusted off Juliet's hair. Percy could have thought that gesture was romantic, but he had been raised by a novelist and an English teacher and knew better.
"Locate the source of the crying," Annabeth ordered.
Juliet gave a curtsy and off they went, walking bravely out into the park. Percy helped Annabeth follow- the night had taken a toll on her, but luckily automatons were not known for their speed. They were known for occasionally losing their shit and murdering everyone around them, so he did keep Riptide drawn just in case.
They walked for what felt like hours. Percy eventually recognized the statue of Hans Christian Anderson, reading a book and sitting on a bench. At his feet, beneath the snow, he knew that there was an ugly duckling who was being read to. The crying was definitely coming from there, from the statue from-
"Percy, in the snow," Annabeth breathed.
He had thought it as soon as she had, and he left here there and ran. He passed a statue that he had never seen before, some lady or something, and fell to his knees near Anderson. There, in the snow, was a baby wrapped in a bundle of green and red and black tartan.
"Holy shit," Percy breathed. He scooped the child up and unzipped his coat to hold her against him. She cried some more. "Annabeth, it's…. it's…"
Annabeth shook her head when she saw the baby in his coat. "She's not bathed in light. She's real."
"As real as you two," somebody said.
They both spun around, Annabeth picking up the sword that Percy had dropped in the snow in one smooth scoop. Which she would feel tomorrow morning.
The statue Percy had never seen before had come to life. Her dress glittered gold, flowing like gossamer. Her hair was braided sharply around her head and was further secured by the diadem which crowned her.
"Hera," Annabeth said.
"Put the sword down before you hurt yourself, daughter of Athena," Hera said. She stepped down from the statue's pedestal and came to them. Her footsteps and the drag of her skirts left no mark in the snow.
"Nephew, is she getting warmer?" Hera asked. Percy's arms tightened around the baby.
"She is."
"Has she opened her eyes yet?"
Percy looked down and he saw Annabeth do the same. The baby opened her eyes and Percy was taken aback by their strange amber colour. Amber like candlelight.
"Why are you here?" Annabeth asked. "Did you give us the matchbox?"
"I most certainly did," Hera said. "And more than that, I think we can all agree."
Percy looked down at the baby again.
"Who is she?" Annabeth asked.
"She is yours," Hera said. "You forget, Mrs. Chase, that I am the goddess of motherhood. You've spent months praying to me without realizing it. You've spent months confiding to me all the hopes and dreams and fantasies that you had in store for your little girl. That's powerful, to us gods. The prayers of a mortal. I believe that's what the rest of the mortals are celebrating tonight, with their trees and lights and carols."
"I don't understand," Annabeth said.
"You do," Hera said. "There have been stranger births in history. Stone statues brought to life. Mud shaped into humans. Creatures with two heads and four legs cut in two."
"Even gods can't bring back the dead," Percy said. Annabeth looked at him with fire in her eyes like don't bring that up right now, Seaweed Brain.
"Well done, son of Poseidon," Hera said. "It's a pleasure to see that you've been paying attention. No, we gods cannot bring back the dead. But we can grant wishes, and we can create as easily as we can destroy. I'll let you puzzle the pieces out. If I were you, I would call a hospital to have this little one checked up on and registered by the state. I have full confidence that on Christmas night, the childless couple who found a baby in the park may be allowed to sit by her, and that you may even be championed in the event of an adoption case."
Annabeth shook her head, looking at the goddess. There were a thousand questions in her eyes, some of them, Percy guessed, may be- why, what, when did you decide to play nice, who is making you do this, what is the catch.
"Consider this a Christmas gift," Hera said. "Since the season is right. Consider it payment. And my debts to you both wiped."
The goddess disappeared as quickly as she'd appeared and Annabeth choked on a sob.
"Percy," she said. "Percy… It's her. It's her, we've been following her all night, like a star."
"I can't believe this," Percy said. But he looked down at the baby and her amber eyes, and he also saw a little button nose that he'd seen in Annabeth's baby pictures and a splash of freckles he knew he'd born as a kid.
"I'll call an ambulance," Annabeth said. "Like Hera said."
"I think this is the first time we're listening to Hera word by word," Percy said.
"Hush, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth said. She took off her scarf, holding the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she pushed it into Percy's coat, to keep the baby warm. "Hello? I need an ambulance in Central Park… My husband and I found a baby in the snow…"
"Our baby," Percy said quietly. His watch beeped, it was 12:00 AM on Christmas day. "We found our baby in the snow."
There were few things that Percy and Annabeth had wanted to do less than host a New Years' Eve party, but Piper had made it pretty clear that even if she weren't invited, she would be showing up at their house to see the baby- so they may as well feed her and let her watch the ball drop on their television.
The baby was currently in Hazel's arms, however. She was wearing a dress with a white skirt and a black top and a silly paper crown from a Christmas cracker on top of her curls. She and Frank were cooing and making faces and trying to elicit a laugh from the baby, giving each other high-fives every time they got her to giggle.
Leo and Jason were helping Percy with the dishes. Grover was eating tin cans and healing all the plants in the apartment that Percy and Annabeth had nearly killed since the last time he'd come by and saved their greenery. Magnus, Piper and Reyna were sitting on a couch and exchanging phrases in Norse, French and Spanish- which Percy knew wasn't going to go well because they were also finishing a bottle of wine. Harper Jane was telling Nico and Will all about how when she'd gone to the doctor a mean doctor had given her a shot, so it was good that they were going to school to become good doctors. Mom and Paul were looking on amused, and also catching up with Frederic Chase who had flown across the country as soon as Annabeth had called. Malcolm was inspecting the structural integrity of the baby's crib, which Percy thought was frankly unnecessary since the baby had been safe and sound for the last three days- since her discharge from hospital.
He didn't complain. He just pulled dessert out of the fridge and brought his double chocolate cheesecake out with a pile of forks and knives and paper plates.
"Hazel, you're going to have to give up the baby," Annabeth said. "Her bottle's ready."
"I can feed her," Hazel said. "Let me? Please. Please, please, please!"
"She's a fussy eater," Annabeth said. "But later you can change her if you want."
"Oh no," Hazel said. "Oh no, she is too cute like this, she has to stay in her little ladybug pajamas forever."
Frank kissed the baby goodbye on the forehead, and then she was passed to Annabeth who got settled on the couch with the bottle. The doorbell rang while everyone was digging into their cake. It was Chiron in his wheelchair, snowflakes dusting his hat and scarf and shoulders.
"Chiron!" Percy said.
"Happy New Year's, Perseus," Chiron said. Percy stepped aside to let him in.
"My dear boy," he said. "News takes a little bit of time to reach us at Camp, but not too long. Mr D will never forgive you for not having told us yourself, or so he says. I believe he's forgotten the entire issue by now, but I, for one, was very excited to hear about your…"
Surprise adoption? Mystery baby?
"Christmas present," Percy supplied, while taking Chiron's coat. Chiron laughed.
"Annabeth, Chiron's here," Percy said. He showed Chiron the way in, and Annabeth smiled from the couch where she and the baby sat. Chiron's eyes softened when he saw her.
"She's precious," Chiron said. Annabeth got up and brought the baby over, and slipped her into Chiron's arms. She squirmed for a minute, but settled down rather quickly in the centaur's arms.
"She looks like you, Annabeth," Chiron said.
"The nurses at the hospital honestly could not believe it," Annabeth said. "It's just been coincidence after coincidence after coincidence for the three of us..."
"I assume she has a name?" Chiron asked.
"Well, yes, the nurses at the hospital named her, and we like it," Percy said. "It's Evie- well, Eve. Eve Mariana Olivia Jackson. Although that last part's not official yet. But we're planning on it."