A moment or Two
Mariah Williams (c)
Oct 2010
Disclaimer: Rick Riordan owns everything... no matter how much I wish I did.
Song i was listening to when i wrote this: Stuff We Did from Pixar's UP (gosh, I love that movie.)
"You drool when you sleep."
Litter surrounds her broken form for a radius of at least a foot. Papers are everywhere, a camera here and a cell phone there. Although she's nestled on the cold floor, she's barefoot clad in jeans and a simple orange t-shirt that reads Camp Half-Blood.
"What if it lines up like it did in the Trojan War… Athena versus Poseidon?"
"I don't know. But I just know that I'll be fighting next to you."
"Why?"
"Because you're my friend, Seaweed Brain. Anymore stupid questions?"
Every thing about her essence right there screams distress, depression but mostly so much sadness that the starving children in Africa are in comparison with a paper cut. Her eyes are red and heavy, bag under her startling yet dull grey eyes and even her hair looks like the rest of her - some what given up. Her blonde, normally perfect princess curls are weighed down to flat waves.
"Dance you guys, you look stupid there!"
"Well?"
"Um, who should I ask?"
"Me, Seaweed Brain."
"Oh. Oh, right."
Upon closer inspection, a loan tear runs down her tear-streaked face. The strength, determination and mostly the pride that usually fill her eyes has shrunken to the smallest fleck, almost completely faded.
Rachel was kind enough to let Annabeth stay at one of her less used wings in her cave. A thin crack of the wall behind and above of Annabeth's head lets the dimming sun light shine through.
"So, what did you want to tell me earlier?"
"I, uh, was thinking about how we got interrupted at Westover Hal. And… I think I owe you a dance."
"Alright, Seaweed Brain."
She rakes her hands through her hair, elbows resting on her drawn up knees and bows her head, breathing in a shaky breath and exhaling even shakier. This is not the Annabeth that everyone else sees. But everyone needs their moments.
"Put your cap back on. Get out!"
"What? No! I'm not leaving you."
"I've got a plan. I'll distract them. You can use the metal spider – maybe it'll lead you back to Hephaestus. You have to tell him what's going on."
"But you'll be killed!"
"I'll be fine. Besides, we've got no choice."
"Be careful, Seaweed brain."
The litter around her is not that, but memories. The camera's showing a variety of photographs. Her phone is set to the background picture, where she and a friend occupy the space. Pictures and pictures of herself, her friends and most importantly, him, scatter the floor of the somber and shadowed room.
"Don't I get a kiss for good luck? It's kind of a tradition, right?"
"Come back alive, Seaweed Brain. Then we'll see."
Percy Jackson, her boyfriend (possibly former?), is in every single one of these pictures. His bright, stunning sea green eyes. His messy, black hair. His handsome face and fit body... he's all around her, in these memories on the cave's hard floor. Memories that he probably doesn't remember.
"You're cute when you're worried. Your eyebrows get all scrunched together."
"You are not going to die while I owe you a favor. Why did you take that knife?"
"You would've done the same for me."
Barely a week ago, her boyfriend – no, soul mate – went missing. Percy Jackson, savior of Olympus, son of Poseidon, went missing. No one knew why, how or who did it. But now they did.
"You got something to say to me, Seaweed Brain?"
"You'd probably kick my butt."
"You know I'd kick your butt."
She removes her hands and looks her left, the first picture she sees is one with her and Percy, each with a replica of the terribly designed cupcake with blue icing that she and Percy's half-brother, Tyson, made him the day he turned sixteen. So happy... so full of life... so naive.
Closing her eyes slowly, she thinks back to the last time she saw him. That one last time that they shared before his memory was most likely erased.
'Then, after the campfire, he – he kissed me goodnight, went back to his cabin, and in the morning, he was gone.'
To say that Annabeth felt empty was a lie. No, she wasn't hollow. She was fully of sadness. Sadness, memories and sadness of those memories. And the sadness of knowing that the one she shared them with doesn't remember them – and her – at all. Any of them.
"When I was at the River Styx, turning invulnerable… Nico said that I had to concentrate on one thing that kept me anchored to the world, that made me want to stay mortal."
"Yeah?"
"Then up on Olympus, when they wanted to make me a god and stuff, I kept thinking-"
"Oh, you so wanted to."
"Well, maybe a little. But I didn't, because I thought – I didn't want for things to stay for an eternity, because things could always get better. And I was thinking…"
"Anyone in particular?"
"You're laughing at me."
"I am not!"
"You are so not making this easy."
"I am never, ever going to make things easy for you, Seaweed Brain. Get used to it."
And all she has left is herself. Herself, and maybe a tiny speck of hope.
"Annabeth?"
The blonde looks up at the new voice, definitely not the smooth one she's always dreaming of. No, it isn't Percy, but Piper, looking small and a little nervous.
"Its supper," Piper says quietly, looking down at the pictures.
Annabeth nods, squeezing her eyes closed one last time before wiping away the tears. Normally, she'd be embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable state. But now, in this moment, she barely cares.
"Tell Chiron that I'll be there in a few minutes," Annabeth tells piper in a croaky voice. Slowly, Piper backs away, nodding solemnly, thinking, Annabeth needs time.
No, a smaller voice says in the back of Piper's head. Annabeth needs Percy.
Alone, once more, Annabeth lets flashes of memories dance before her eyes. All the years with Percy, all the laughs, danger and compassion. The times of need, the times of scare and the times of jealousy. All of the times that he saved me, or I saved him. The time that…
Anyways, just something sad. ): I'm too much of a percabeth fan for my own health. Lost Hero almost made me cry form either anger, anxiety or just plain worrying and tragic-ness. I mean, if Percy doesn't remember Annabeth and he's with someone else... oh boy.
R&R