Burying The Hatchet:
"No, I want to tell you something. It's been bothering me for a long time." She moved her shoulder and winced. "Last year, Luke came to see me in San Francisco. He came under a flag of truce. He said he only wanted five minutes to talk. He looked scared, Percy. He said he wanted to run away, like the old days. He wanted me to come with him." -The Last Olympian.
Her head rested against the window ledge, briefly stopping her reading to glance out the window. The sky was cloudy, a flawless white, and not even a storm cloud or the sun could stop the oblivion. She lifted her t-shirt sleeve up to her nose, taking in the scent of the signature fabric softener Helen always insisted upon using. It left her clothes dry and scratchy, and the smell resembled faux flowers, but Annabeth didn't protest. She supposed she owed her step-mother, if only in a way. They owed each other, for all the heated arguments and indecent glares they had passed at each other during the brink of Annabeth's childhood.
The orange shirt was slightly faded, and she hoped to smell that familiar mixture of sweat, scorched food, and the freshness that summer always brought, but it was lacking after multiple washes throughout the school year. A part of her wished she could've stayed at Camp Half-Blood year round. She was happier there. Safer. Despite her and her father's resolution, there was still a tension that had befallen on the household. She expected the cause was from Fredrick's uncertainty; after all, he knew little to nothing about the mythical world, and every time Annabeth stumbled into the house grime ridden and bloody, shock and worry would always flitter across his features. He would've known that was normal if he had treated her with respect when- ah, no. Annabeth scrunched up her nose in annoyance, stopping the thought before it could weigh its way in. She had to let go of all the resentment, and thoughts of her past led to nothing but that.
What she held now was unfathomable boredom. While Annabeth loved learning, everything she seemed to indulge herself in her school seemed unimportant and useless. Especially with the threat of Kronos constantly weighing in over her head. It was hard to focus on getting an education when your best friend (and possibly you) could be dead in less than a year. At the thought, her face twisted into a pained grimace, and she brought her knees up to her chest.
Percy.
It had been a while since she had allowed him into her mind, and it was definitely long overdue. It only multiplied her homesickness, because Percy always did feel like home. She yearned to see him again, with a yearning she didn't know was possible. After all, while she missed Grover and Thalia, it was nothing compared to the desperation of seeing Percy again. Sometimes she had half the mind to go to New York like she had during their second quest together, but always quickly banished the thought. It would be foolhardy, and not to mention, creepy. And after their kiss, all their arguments and disagreements, Annabeth didn't know how he would react to her showing up on his doorstep after all the hostility she had shown him. Her stomach twisted in partial guilt, but she remembered that it was his fault. He was the one that made her believe he was dead because of her, when in actuality, he was off on a romantic island getaway with a Greek seductress.
She scowled at that, her fingers curling into a fist. She suddenly wanted to hit something, and she was not completely sure as to why. She had every reason to be upset with Percy; she was blameless! How did he expect her to react when Rachel- a mortal no less- took over her first quest. A part of her questioned if she was, dare she say, jealous, but that was ridiculous! Annabeth silently fumed for a few more seconds, letting the events from last year engulf her. She didn't like Percy. Not like that. Then again, friends don't kiss other friends.
"It was a onetime thing," she grumbled underneath her breath, like saying it out loud would somehow emphasize the wavering truth. "I thought he was going to die."
At her own absurdity, she grabbed the worn copy of her book again. It was sometimes difficult to decipher words, but Annabeth loved the escape of reading, and she wasn't about to let dyslexia stand in the way of that. The emptiness and silence of the house made her relax, and she flipped the page, the image of Percy's green eyes getting washed away with the ink on the crinkled pages.
The doorbell rang. Annabeth furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, marking what page she was in her book. Fredrick, Helen, and the twins weren't due to be back for another few hours (they had invited her to tag along, but she had declined) and even if they had returned already, both adults had a set of keys. She climbed off of her bed, snatching her dagger off the nightstand. While monsters had been inactive for quite some time, (it was unsettling, like the silence before a storm) there was always a chance, and Annabeth wasn't going to answer that door unarmed.
After walking down the doors, the doorbell ringing once more, the foreboding sense in her stomach never dissipating, she tugged it open a crack after a sliver of hesitance.
Her grey eyes widened, and her face contorted into a mixture of shock and anger. Numbly, she swung the door open further. A small part of Annabeth wanted her to smile and let him in, pretending like he had never tried to murder Percy, Thalia, and herself. A year ago she probably would've, but she was drastically different now. She no longer melted underneath his gaze, and no longer could muster up the strength to even attempt to trust him. Annabeth learned from her mistakes. He was deceitful, and she wouldn't be tricked by those blue eyes ever again. He tricked her into carrying the sky, and she wouldn't let him ever deceive her again.
Her knife was out in an instant, the very dagger that he himself had given her, and Luke winced. He didn't make any tries to attack her, or disarm her, which she knew very well he could if he wanted to, but all he did was stand there. An apologetic smile spread across his face, the scar moving with it.
"What could you possibly want?" she demanded, her tone laced with an unsaid threat.
The other part of her, the logical part, wants to gut him for all he put her through.
"I'm not here to hurt you," he finally said, and his voice sounded broken. "I'm here to talk."
"I don't want anything from you," she spat, and her heart twisted a little bit at that because it was a lie. He made no struggle to step inside, despite that it was beginning to rain, and she made no movements away from the threshold. In her perspective, he was still Luke. He could still be saved, but she couldn't do it alone. As much as she wished she could, it's out of her power. She needed help from Luke too, but he seemed to make no efforts to make up for his betrayal. A genuine apology could've won her over, but he wasn't sorry. She could tell. He was scared and knew there would be consequences, but he wasn't sorry. "Go away."
She turned to slam the door in his face, tears already brimming, but his voice stopped her.
"Five minutes, Annabeth. That's all I ask."
She closed her eyes until her vision was no longer blurry, and finally she looked back at him. "Fine. Talk."
He flinched like she had struck him, which was ironic, because she really wanted to. "I'm sorry."
"No, you're not." She wanted to cross her arms, but kept her blade up. If he was capable of murder, he was capable of anything, and Annabeth wasn't going to risk anything. She reasoned that if he wanted to hurt her, he already would've, (but even so, old Annabeth wouldn't have ever thought Luke would hurt her in the first place) so she allowed him this small gift of speaking.
He sighed, eyes glistening with unshed tears. She had never seen him in such a mess. Luke was never in such shambles, even when Thalia died. The realization hit her like a blow to the chest, and she finally noticed that Luke wasn't just scared. He was terrified.
"I am!" he protested, voice growing louder. "I am sorry!"
"No! If you were sorry, you would be back at camp right now. If you were sorry, you would make it up to the people you hurt!"
"I'm trying to make it up to you, Annabeth!" he yelled in frustration, but he didn't sound annoyed. Just desperate. "Right now! I told you that I'm sorry!"
She heaved a shaky breath, straightening her hoarse and choked voice. When she spoke, she was calm. "Sorry doesn't cut it," she replied, plainly and simply. Annabeth thought about how if Percy were here, he would be proud of her for taking a stand. Hades, she was proud of herself. She instantly felt guilty, however, because that sentence uttered seemed to break Luke beyond repair, if he wasn't already. Her pride nearly shattered at his last defense, and her stomach churned painfully.
"Then let me make it up to you," he pleaded, voice strained and a few tears rolling down his face. For a second, he looked so young. Like a child rather than an adult, and that pained Annabeth even more. "Run away with me. It'll be just like old times. You, me, Thalia- on the run. I can keep my promise. We could be a family again. Don't you want that back?"
She swallowed, nearly stepping onto her porch and agreeing. Because she wanted that back almost more than anything. The only thing keeping her tied to reality was the obvious factor that it wouldn't be the same. Thalia would never agree to it, and Percy- she would lose him, maybe for good. By accepting this offer, it would be equivalent to stabbing her best friend in the back. If she ran away, it would mean turning her back on camp. Her home. Her friends, and her family. It would mean betraying all of them, even herself, and she couldn't just abandon them like that. She couldn't leave Percy like that, not when he needed her.
Annabeth would hate herself if she agreed.
"I do want that back," she reluctantly admitted, stifling back a sob that kept building up in the back of her throat. Hope glimmered in Luke's eyes, and she struggled internally. This was exactly what the Annabeth from almost two years ago wished for. This was on her list of fantasies, of greatest hopes, but this Annabeth, who she was now, was stronger. "But I won't."
His smile faltered, and then disappeared completely. "You...won't?"
She nodded, trying to regain her sternness back. "I won't go with you. I can't."
There was a silence. All that could be heard was the sound of rain falling and splattering on the pavement. Luke's hair was damp now, and raindrops kept sliding over the bridge of his nose and onto his cheeks. Or maybe those were tears. She couldn't tell through the dimness of the afternoon, and she didn't want to know.
She expected him to get angry. Maybe even forcibly make her go with him, but all he did was lower his head, shielding his expression from hers. "This is my last chance, Annabeth. He'll do things to me. Please. Kronos is going to use me like a stepping-stone." He was begging now, and it was Annabeth's turn to avert her eyes from his. You never do forget the person that was your last hope, and it was clear that was what Luke assumed her to be.
"Sorry, Luke," was all she could offer listlessly. "I can't trust you again."
His jaw hardened, and Annabeth's hand tensed further around the dagger as his hand wrapped around a sword attached to his belt. "Fine! You might as well fight me right here because it's going to be the last chance you get!"
A cry wedged its way from her mouth. "Luke..." He shook his head in disgust, and her voice died off. He didn't seem angry with me, just frightened. Scared and confused and looking at Annabeth like she had enough power to save him. "I'm sorry."
He released his grip on the weapon, hand trembling, the shame and anguish evident on his face. "No, I understand." But when he said that, it sounded like he didn't really understand at all. "Goodbye, Annabeth."
He turned to leave, but the words escaped her lips without them meaning to. "Luke!" she called, and he froze, turning partway. She let out a breath, her words coming out tumbled. "Take care of yourself."
Luke smiled, but it was forced and weak. Her vision clashed with memories from her past, happier ones. Back when Thalia hadn't turned into a tree and when they roamed the streets, uncharacteristically happy with one another's company. Back before Luke turned into this person that she couldn't recognize. "You too." It came out in a whisper, and she could barely hear him, his raspy voice barely decipherable.
She watched him until he disappeared down the street, and even after he was gone, she stared at the spot where he had just been standing.
Why, Luke?
She closed the door, finally allowing her own tears to fall.
A/N: Luke actually visited Annabeth before the Labyrinth, but I also found it more fitting if he visited her after. More angst with Percy, and definitely more angst with Luke. Writing a non-AU Percy Jackson fanfiction has been on my mind forever. It's been so long since I've last done one, and I really enjoyed it. I also loved writing this. I miss Luke. I miss the PJO series. I love HoO, but I'm biased towards PJO because it was one of my first fandoms.
Reviews make me happy! I'd love to hear what you think, and please excuse any grammar errors I may have made. (: