00: Floating Below with You in Tow

Blue. Wet. Seaweed. Can't breath.

Her mind was frozen and in retrospect, Annabeth should have known this was a trap all along. Should have smelled his treacherous behaviour miles away. Should have been smart enough to notice the obvious big red flag waving itself mockingly in front of her face.

—But the problem is, she didn't. And it terrified her.

Inwardly, she scowled at herself. She can't believe it - to be fooled once was one thing, but thrice in a row? Wow, she was on a roll! Honestly, she was sure she won the Dumbest Woman of the Year award if that was a thing. Hell, Magnus will make it a thing if he saw how pathetic she was being - grasping for air in a sunken cruise that she remembered Luke had once called The Andromeda.

Luke, she thought bitterly.

The name itself already brought carnage down her stomach, draping her like cold ice water in a harsh winter night. How could he-no, how dare he did this to her? Does breaking her heart with betrayals not enough? Is the thought of her corpse floating above the sea surface was all that matter to him? Amusing his sick fantasy?

Annabeth shook her head and swim, more from her problems and less for her life. Both option was sour at the moment, true. But she can't afford to lost them both. As much as she want to throw what she thought as worthless, she have a score to settle and a revenge to serve. On how to achieve these, she'll need to live and she'll need a reminder of her misery to act without mercy. Beside, serve it cold is the best way, no?

—She burst open her prison door. Swimming near it then kicked it with all her might - and she succed. Water that came from the purposely shattered window floured out of the room, carrying her and it massive load to join the water in the corridor.

She coughed up some liquid out of her system, then picked up a lone seaweed on top of her damp blond hair. Annabeth goes tight lipped and throw the sea-plant as far away from her as possible, not particularly liking her chance on surviving and she took it off on the poor plant. She get moving.

Trying to get her legs working, Annabeth wobbly tried to stand up. Waves after waves come crashing into her body, weighing her down and it definitely give her a hard time. Especially when she's still wearing her heels on. But that doesn't mean she'd give up.

In front of her, hall stretched far too narrow and far too thick for her liking. On either side of them, pure white walls caged her and give no room for escape, no door other than where she came and no stair in sight. With the hall plain decor and itsblindingly whitish colour, it definitely giving her the sting eye. More so than the sea water.

And speaking of her damned predicament: the water was starting to get to her, plunging her chest-deep to the point where she wasn't even sure if there was a crimson carpet beneath her. (From her absolutely reliable memory, there was).

Annabeth cursed and took off her heels. Pen clutched in one hand and black stilettos in the other.

"You better be worth it," she murmured to the writing utensil and it hummed in response. She took no mind to this, writing it off as her wild drenched in adrenaline imagination, pocketing the oddly warm pen into her black jacket.

—And she took off.

After that, everything becomes a scribbled blur. She'd recall going from floor after floor opening up all the door she could fine, frantically; finding it either useless, full of fancy garbages that a sinking ship wouldn't need, plain weird, or another one way ticket for her to book a flight to the Underworld (seriously, who in Hades' name put a bear trap in a closet?). But unfortunately, no emergency staircase. If she said that was a fatal flaw on the designer part, that would be a huge understatement of the century. Or maybe it just her with her dumb luck that didn't cross path with it yet. It's probably the latter.

The Andromeda was pretty easy to navigate - if twisted paths, stairs that lead to nowhere, and labyrinth rigid of a hallway could be classified as such, then, be her guest. She was roaming with no guide and she was desperate to kill the son of a bitch who design the cruise. What are they, an idiot? Seriously, how can anyone enjoyed a trip here? If she was in charge, she would make it a noble mission to destroy any piece of work this guy made. And if they were Luke, it's an added bonus.

Regardless of her spinning mind, she scalded through the minuscule tides of the ocean, perfectly knowing the grey slitted dress she's been wearing was by far not suitable for any type of climbing (that trust her, was needed) nor it was a great outfit for a diving expedition. But somehow, Annabeth still managed to get herself on the deck intact - sky littered with stars and half the ship's was now seventy-five degree upward heading north. The other half though was pretty much drowning below, doomed to be unseen forever.

Witnessing such magnificent sight and involved with it head on, she'll give anything to lay bare her stomach right there and then, feeling small and worthless on the sea of nothingness. Offhandedly, fighting the urge to vomit, she heard a weird hum coming from the inside of her jacket. And like the last time, she ignore it. There's a more pressing matter she'll need to handle as of now.

—Like that skidding beach chair for example.

"Oomph!" Annabeth grunted, reflex kicking in and she jumped from one side to the other. Her hands and feets digging its way into the wooden floor, stilettos left forgotten and furniture barely dodged.

Sweat dripped down her cheek, containing her urge to look down. I need to climb, and fast.

And climb she did.

The sight of her fingers becoming raw and swollen was stuffed roughly in the back of her head, the thought itself barely registered in her use to be engine-powered but now mush brain. She can't fandom it happening in the rush to self herself. To put it simply: she doesn't care about them. Climb and climb and climb, the word crossed her mind so many times it practically shown with a blinking red light of 'DANGER' in her eyes.

The grimace on her face is evident, no one can't deny that. Annabeth's mess of a blond hair sticking distractingly on her face and she huffed so much breath she was surprised her lung didn't exploded yet. Every mass in her body screamed as if it was burned from Tartarus' deepest pit, the ocean's wind told the foresign of a storm brewing trying to throw her off. And there's definitely a knot in her muscles chocking her inside out. Least to say, she's feeling wonderful, why do you ask?

—She dodged a painting of a fat guy dressed as a dolphin.

The result, Annabeth lost her grip on the plank.

There wasn't even time for her to react, no scream, no curses, no blaming that fat guy for her mistake. She just fall. Her body rolled and crashed into the ship's metal rail, shoulder blade cracking and ankle disjointed in dismay. She was slipping off the ship and she can do nothing about it but watch in horror. A few seconds later like she predicted, she flew, nose diving breaking the sea iced surface.

And then she died. The end.

Oh, she wish.

But wouldn't that be a lovely ending though? Simple and easy to wrap around the brain. Annabeth liked that ending best, her end at least wouldn't be as painful, she could say bye-bye to her endless suffering and be done with life. But no, something else just have to transpire that night. Just... Lovely.

Anyway, where do we left off? Falling from the rail and future of drowning in the endless sea? Yeah, that must be it. It's not like Annabeth could just swim up to the surface and free herself of watery chains, oh no! That would be too easy. There's no ankle to speak of for her to swim. And that was prove enough on what Annabeth learned from life - anything you'll do, it will never be easy.

So she dived deeper. And deeper. And deeper. Until no light could ever dreamed of reaching her.

By then, Annabeth's lung have burn like no other. Similar to her episode back on the deck, but ten times worst. Finally, the pain was too overbearing to take, she can take no more. She give in, mouth agape letting a hitch of her breath flew before her, turning into bubbles.

How Annabeth wish she was that bubbles.

And the inevitable finally came knocking. The water forced their way into her mouth, her nostril, her ears, her eye socket. If there's a hole in her body, you'll find water already filling in. The feeling was horrible, the feeling of unidentified gallons of liquid injected into her inside and making it moss. She chocked one last pained tear before she lost consciousness, her body drifting with the waves, current of fishes unavoidable.

If only she was awake, she would have seen the giant bubble that started to form around her. Beckoning her like a protecting cocoon.

If only she was awake, she would have realize the bubble have floated her back onto the surface. Popping as soon as chilly wind entered her system.

If only she was awake, hours later she would have seen that her cousin had found her, a jet ski and a megaphone was his only tool on searching. Later, his concerned face would greet her the first time she'd opened her eyes.

If only she was awake, she would have feel the pen growing warmer and even brighter every time it heard her heartbeat.

When she does awake, she felt like dreaming.

A/N: Ah, I don't how to begin. But let me tell you how this story came above. For the one who care that is:

So, this story was the manifestation of a really weird idea that I came up after re-playing the Tomb Raider series on PS1 and re-reading Magnus Chase a couple of times. It bring this image of Annabeth being her usual badass self, hair swaying in the wind, perched on top of a rocky mountain and profession as an archaeologist holding Percy the artefact in her hand.

On what artefact Percy suppose to be, I decided on a sword. 'Cause Jack, duh. I did said I've been re-reading Magnus Chase, am I right? And what better sword than Riptide (or Anaklusmos), the very sword that he own?

Interesting, yes? Or am I being too cocky here?

Anyway, I have a question for you guys. I've been wondering, do this story should be put on the crossover section or the regular one? This fic do have Magnus Chase characters in it, might be a prominent roll, might be not. But it will focus mainly on the PJO characters of course.

Please guys, I'm super confused right now. I'm begging you, someone, help me - and by that I mean, "Please review 'cause I totally want your input on this." Oh, and also follow and favourite too. It'll make a very obsessed fans happy! (a.k.a me).

And with that very shameless begging, I end this chapter here. Ahem, see you later, I guess. Until next time!

Ciao!