He watched the rope ladder descend from the ship, watched them clamber down it – four dark figures, silhouettes, moving slowly down a thread were all that he could see from his distance. But as he drew nearer he could see them better, make out colors and heights, and, finally, features.
Two boys – one tall and blond, the other shorter and dark-haired. One of them was Jason, he was sure – he was excited to meet the famous former praetor. And then, behind them, just stepping off the ladder, two girls.
They matched the boys almost eerily, in terms of height and hair color. One was short and dark-haired, the other tall and blond . . . tall and blond.
His heart nearly stopped. That was her, he was certain, and as they drew nearer and nearer, he saw her face, and nothing else mattered.
Annabeth.
Even if he hadn't gotten his memories back, he would have known that face anywhere. As his eyes locked onto her large gray ones, the world fell away. He'd never known the meaning of the phrase "lost in your eyes" until this moment.
Reyna was speaking but he couldn't hear a word of what she was saying; his ears were filled with a hollow sort of ringing and he could barely feel the huge smile breaking across his face. He was hardly aware of anything he was doing; unconsciously he disentangled his arms from Frank and Hazel, and then he was running.
And so was she.
They collided in a wave of heat and energy and relief and joy. She fit against him perfectly, like a puzzle piece with its counterpart, and as their lips met for the first time in months, he felt a piece of him he hadn't realized was missing click into place. As though there had been no lapse of time at all. Nothing else mattered.
He couldn't say how long they stood like that, didn't care if they were making a scene. Finally he pulled away, and his eyes opened and drank in her face, as though he were starving and it was the sustenance he needed. In a way, it was.
"Gods," he said, and his voice came out hollow and strangled, "I never thought" –
She moved so fast that he didn't even notice what was happening until he was lying flat on his back on the pavement, dazed. But even though his head was swimming from a lot of things – the results of his quest, seeing her again, its recent impact with the ground – he managed to focus on her face. He didn't want to ever look away again.
Her eyes were so beautiful – intensely gray, and, right now, too bright. She was blinking fast; he wanted to tell her to stop, because every second that her eyes were closed was a second that he didn't get to look at them, but he couldn't manage to say anything. He was too busy staring at her.
And then, she spoke.
"If you ever leave me again," and he could hear the unspoken Seaweed Brain in there, "I swear to all the gods" –
Despite the pressure of her arm against his throat, he managed to laugh. Hearing her voice, her threatening his life – they were falling right back into the old pattern. He felt a lump in his own throat.
"Consider me warned," he said, a little too breathily. "I missed you, too." Missed wasn't the word for it, but he couldn't say anything better.
As though suddenly conscious that they were making a scene, Annabeth got off of him, and then reached down to help him up. Though he hadn't felt it in eight months, the pressure of her hand against his was right and natural.
As the introductions continued, he mostly tuned them out. He tried to survey the newcomers – especially the famous Jason Grace – but his eyes kept returning to Annabeth's face.
Right.
That was the only word for it. Just right.
And right then, he made a promise to himself. He'd been without her for eight months. He was not letting it happen again. Not ever.
Wow, okay, I know this is as sappy as Thalia's tree - actually, come to think of it, it's Thalia, her tree wouldn't be sappy at all - but I was in a Percy/Annabeth (shipper names annoy me) mood and I was reading through Mark of Athena again. Don't sue me. This belongs to Rick Riordan - and I think he did an awesome job of it.