This is a little raw (as in, one or two proof reads before publishing) but hopefully you enjoy it anyway.

It's my first ever attempt writing in the PJO fandom, so sorry in advance if I've screwed them up. They're clear in my head, but I'm not sure I've got that down well in fiction yet and the books have taken over my life, so I don't think anything I write could ever live up, anyway :)

This is a one-shot that takes place after the War that is the main plot of the Heroes of Olympus series.

Because of that, it does have SPOILERS for Mark of Athena and anything up to that book. Read on if you wish, but you've been warned.

Warnings: There are mentions/implications of emotional trauma, grief, stress and physical injury. Nothing you shouldn't be used to in the PJO universe.

Enjoy.


The sun beats down across Camp Half-Blood. it is a wonder the grass is still rich and green, because Chiron hasn't let it rain for weeks and summer seems to have no inclination to peacefully give way to fall. It is hanging on as long as it can and Annabeth suspects the Gods have a hand in it.

We let you fall into Tartarus and fight a war against our granny for us without being much help at all, she thinks sarcastically. The least we can do is give you a few more weeks of the summer you missed while shut up in the deepest depths of hell and fighting for your lives.

Annabeth scowls, feeling a now familiar twinge through her belly. Thinking of the time she spent in Tartarus with Percy is easier when she thinks of it in caustic phrases. Dark humour protects her but it still makes her cringe when her mind traces the word. Thinking of it truly - coming to terms with it - seems like too great a task still. Acceptance is a way off yet.

"What's wrong, Annabeth?"

Annabeth starts. Panic flashes up inside her so suddenly it nearly makes her physically sick. She curls over on the grass, swallowing against her churning stomach. The earth is hot beneath her and the grass prickles her skin. She opens her eyes and it takes a second for her to see anything other than blinding white as they adjust to the sun.

She's okay.

She's not down there anymore.

There is no one here who will hurt her and she needs to stop reacting like she's been given an electric shock every time she's caught unawares.

Above her, Katie Gardner is standing, a look of careful concern etched into her face and furrowed brow. Travis Stoll is stood at her elbow, rubbing his arm ruefully.

Annabeth smiles faintly, realising that Travis was the person who spoke and Katie must have recognised her panic for what it was.

That thought makes her feel slightly sick again, though. She's always been strong for the people around her, and she does not want or need them to see her like this. Only one person has ever been allowed to see her lost, uncertain and vulnerable.

The sudden need to see Percy settles into her, like someone dropping a brick onto her chest. Her breath rushes out in a swoop and her lungs forget how to expand again.

Now.

She needs to find him now.

"Fine," she gasps, trying to make her voice normal against the sudden desperate need. She hates feeling like this; like the world isn't right if she cannot see Percy nearby. Chiron has said it is natural; they had only each other for so long and it will take time to heal, but it still makes her feel weak. She swallows hard. "I'm okay," she insists, more evenly this time. "I'm just…going for a walk."

Katie nods faintly. Her expression is more compassionate than Annabeth would have liked. Katie knows where she's going, but she stays silent, and for that, Annabeth is grateful.

She gets easily to her feet.

If Tartarus and the war were good for anything, it was this. She is in very good physical shape – as are many of the other campers. They are all bone weary much of the time, their minds and hearts fragile and at times, alternately numb and sharp with grief. But their bodies are almost totally healed from Ambrosia and nectar, and have come through their battles stronger.

Annabeth doesn't look back as she picks up the pace, leaving the chattering campers to bask in the sun on the green before their Cabins.

She is half running when she reaches the edge of the sea.

It is far too hot to be running, really. The back of her neck already feels damp under her loose blonde hair, and she has that flushed feeling that makes her light-headed when she stops. She is thankful for the slashes cut into the old camp shirt she pulled on that morning – the sea breeze rushes across her stomach, tugging at the fabric and taking the fire on her skin with it.

But still that brick weighs on her heart.

She kicks off her sneakers and hurries across the sand – it is scorching and too hot to dawdle. The tide is coming in. Golden sand catches the sun beneath the lapping of the ocean in the shallows, turning the water there to brilliant green. Light sparkles on the surface further out and droplets flash as they arc through the air on the crest of curled waves.

Annabeth wades into the green water, feeling the blissfully cool sand and watching white sea foam froth across her skin as it sweeps in on a broken wave.

She smiles, feeling something small in her chest break; like a sharp corner falling away from that pressing brick.

Percy is out here.

She reaches down to the belt at her side and draws out her bronze dagger. Squeezing it once between her fingers, she tosses it in a clean arc over the incoming tide and it slips under the waves with a deep, heavy splash.

It takes just moments.

The tide either side of her laps gently up the beach as normal, but where she stands, the water suddenly tugs at her ankles. It's grip is almost as tangible as human hands.

Annabeth has to catch her balance as the waves seek to carry her out, and then, without warning, it races back and leaves her behind.

Percy's head breaks through the surface a little way out. For once he is soaking wet; dark hair plastered to his skull and shining brightly. He is smiling at her, and for a minute, Annabeth is forcibly reminded of times when they were whole.

But all too soon, a look of familiar concern has taken over his features, and then he is swimming back to her, cutting cleanly through the waves without needing to take breath.

He hurries up onto the beach and the tide follows him, as though it does not want to give him up just yet. The ocean glitters on his skin as he walks towards her. He twirls her knife between his fingers absently and his eyes take on the bright green of the sea in the shallows.

When he reaches her, he is already dry. He tosses down her dagger and Annabeth notices his own sneakers, shirt and Riptide in pen form are gathered together further back on the sand.

"We're together," he murmurs to her, almost on instinct and Annabeth folds her arms around his waist as her head drops onto his shoulder.

This has become their mantra, because they're not okay. Annabeth cannot remember how to be okay anymore, and with their lives as they are, she does not even know if she will ever get the chance to be truly okay. So still the most important thing to them is unchanged from the day they were lost to Tartarus.

Each other.

She has him and he has her and she could lose everything else in the world and still keep breathing. But if he was the one thing she lost, she is not sure there would be a way back to who she is now.

Her fingers trace the raised lines that slash diagonally over Percy's back. A spike of fear lodges in her throat.

She came so close to that. To losing him forever.

Percy can still be overwhelmingly oblivious, but as always, he has his moments. Today, here, appears to be one of them. As she stiffens and her fingers leave the fading scars, his arms shift around her, and he lowers them both to the ground.

Annabeth has a sudden, rushing flashback.

Black; deep blackness, spread all around, endless and yet encasing. An unearthly green light, weak and muted somewhere high above cast long, malicious shadows and silhouetted all kinds of long forgotten debris and shattered memories.

It was a desolate land, home only to nightmares.

Annabeth shuddered. Their situation was bad, and they knew it. She, with her still damaged ankle; Percy, already blaming himself; Gaea, her taunting whispers pressing into them through the earth. Very few supplies; her missing knife and a journey that seemed far greater than two teenaged demigods.

They had been walking for too long. A day, maybe. Several miles, for certain. Demons and monsters loomed in the corners of their eyes, and minutes bled together, helped by the unchanging darkness.

Time was meaningless here.

There was just you and horrors in the shadows designed to break your spirit and fracture your mind.

But she had Percy.

"We need to stop," she croaked. Already, words between them had dried up and her voice was scratchy with disuse.

Percy looked down at her.

His eyes looked hollow in the dim light and that cold green light around them reflected in their depths so that Annabeth felt a chill race down her spine. It was like Gaea was already taking him away from her – even if his hand was still wrapped around her own.

He nodded after a long moment.

They made their way to a tiny cave formed of the pit beneath two crushed cars and Percy lowered Annabeth to the ground carefully.

Her ankle was no longer truly broken. The ambrosia had knitted the worst of the damage to the bone, but it was still not right, not strong, and utterly useless for her to fight on.

Still, she struggled to sit up.

Percy turned his eyes on her, brow furrowed. "You should sleep," he said quietly, his own voice husky.

"We can't both sleep," Annabeth argued practically.

Percy shrugged. "I'm not tired."

Liar, Annabeth thought bitingly. But she didn't call him on it. Something bigger was bothering her.

The cars they were using for shelter formed an inverted 'V' above their heads, but the cold, unnatural wind of tormented spirits raced between the shattered windows and crumpled bodywork. They were open on both sides.

"You can't look both ways."

Percy's eyes darkened, as though he were angry with himself for this failing. Annabeth felt something inside her break. A hot tear spilled from her eye and raced down her cheek.

She brushed it away before Percy could notice and shuffled carefully closer.

"Its okay," she said, preparing to lie through her own teeth. "I'm not tired either; I just need to rest for a minute. Just…hang on."

Careful to keep her ankle still, Annabeth turned to him and swung a leg over his lap.

In other circumstances, she might have been wildly amused at the fleeting look of completely normal teenage panic on his face, followed by what might have been a blush, but was too hard to see in the dark.

He made a strange sound in the back of his throat and Annabeth felt a smile cross her lips despite their situation, but finally she was sat back on the ground, legs out either side of his hips, and his legs bracing her. She rested her forehead against his shoulder and her breath rushed out of her.

Percy relaxed against her as though he had decided in a moment to be okay with their entangled state.

"Watch my back, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth whispered, lifting her head enough to be able to stare out at the desolate world behind Percy. Her arms tightened around him, and she felt the squeeze at her waist as he mirrored her.

The ghost of a kiss pressed into the hollow behind her ear, causing a coil in her stomach as something loosened in her heart. "You're the only person I'd have watching mine, Wise Girl."

Annabeth jumps as the blackness behind her eyes implodes into brilliant sunlight and she finds herself stunned, breathless and sitting on the beach in Percy's arms, exactly as she had been in the memory.

But it is different now. Not just for the sun in place of endless night. Percy's skin is not pale under her fingers; his ribs do not press through it like it is paper thin and there is no trace of that horrible, wicked green light in the changing blue of his eyes. He is warm and solid and his heart beats against her collarbone when she presses close enough – marking him truly alive.

Percy pulls back, looking down at her with renewed worry. His thumb brushes across her cheek and it is only now that Annabeth realises the memory of her tears have crossed time, and they're spilling from her eyes again.

Angry at herself, she blinks them back and swipes them away rather more brutally than Percy had.

"You went back there, didn't you?"

His voice is quiet, almost lost in the Shhhhhhhh Shhhhhhhh of the sea.

He knows her too well.

Or maybe it is that he is dealing with the same nightmares she is.

She nods. There is nothing either of them can say that will beat away their demons. Only time is of any good to them. Time healed Annabeth's ankle, and it will heal all sign of the scars on Percy's back. Scars that are the only tangible evidence of a hellhound attack that almost slashed him to ribbons and left Annabeth kneeling in his blood as it pooled inky black in the dark.

Scars that prove he was ready to die for her.

She was ready to die for him, too; in the war against Kronos. It is only now that she understands how great a burden it is to bear for the one who would be left behind.

Percy pulls her closer again and Annabeth hugs him back fiercely. A final tear escapes and she takes a breath.

She is done crying. Again. For today, at least.

Healing is a long process. It makes her angry, sad, tired and like a wounded animal scared to leave its den. But there are times that she feels hope and with each passing day breathing is easier; smiles come more freely and she can remember what it is like to laugh.

Those are the days she has to live for.

Sitting on a beach, clinging to Percy who is as broken and resilient as she is, and knowing they are still together despite the mother of the Titans, being okay doesn't seem quite so far away.


AN: That's all, folks! All feedback appreciated.

This story was written to accompany a piece of fan art I did of Percy and Annabeth, and both were originally posted on my tumblr. A link to the fanart that prompted this fic will be on my profile page.