Liberty Or Death Chapter Seven

A Deal With An Angel


He was frozen, glued to the deck while shadows loomed around him. All Percy could feel was a pool of some sort of liquid under his back and the cool breeze.

But the breeze suddenly turned into hot, still air carrying the smell of smoke and burning flesh. Jets of flame shot off the surface of a river to his right and the ground gave under his feet as he ran for his life. From what, he wasn't quite sure. Something- no, multiple somethings- roared. They were on top of him, he couldn't run-

The image flickered and changed. Wisps of mist drifted off his arms. He was moving oh-so-slowly and something was chasing him again. Annabeth was miles ahead, running for her life too, but a giant leapt from behind a rock and brought a club down on her head. She crumpled with a scream of agony and he couldn't move anymore, not as he watched the giant pick up her body, not as the monster coming for him raked a claw down his spine. All he could do was watch in silent terror as her blonde hair disappeared into the reddish fog, as blood ran freely down the golden strands and dripped onto the ground before disappearing in a puffs of smoke. He was in absolute agony, but nothing compared to the pain of watching her die.

Suddenly the hot air was gone and he was freezing, trembling with the cold. Someone was crying. A pair of teardrops fell on his skin. A shaking hand ran over his arm gently while the deck underneath him thrummed with footsteps. He could hear the panic and tension in their voices, gradually getting louder and louder, but he couldn't make out a single word.

"Percy!" a familiar voice cried. "Percy, you have to wake up, please wake up, you have to…" Another tear fell on him as a pair of hands gently lifted his shoulders. The person sniffled like they were trying to hold back sobs. Someone held him upright while the bandages on his back were unwound, but he still couldn't see and he had to be insane to be imagining this. He had to be okay. It was just a nightmare. A harmless nightmare. Just open your eyes, his mind whispered, but he couldn't, he couldn't open them at all.

Then smooth liquid was running down his throat, but it tasted like sawdust. He tried to push away the flask of nectar, but before he could it was gone. Soft bandages wrapped around him once more, accompanied by a pair of warm arms.

"Percy," someone said again and he suddenly recognized the voice. "Percy, wake up, please," Annabeth repeated. "You have to wake up."

Her voice was tight with worry and pain. Somehow, it made him realize that his back was in agony and his eyes flew open.

"Oh, thank gods," Annabeth whispered. Silhouettes surrounded him in the darkness. All he could discern was the glint of moonlight on metal and blonde hair.

"Ow," Percy muttered, running his hand carefully over the gauze. Even through the thick bandage, he could count his ribs. The bandage felt like a warm hug, except his back was screaming in pain. He clenched his fist so tightly he was sure blood would be running down his palms.

"Let's go down to the infirmary," someone said. A swarm of murmuring surrounded him. Percy gasped as a white-hot lance shot through his back again. It felt like something was ripping out his spine. Several hands pulled him upright and he wavered like a leaf in the wind. The voices of his friends melded together, spinning and swirling until his head ached. People helped him down the stairs, then into a soft bed in the ship's hospital. The sheer number of personalities made him tense and he wanted to force them all away. Away, away, away, the faster the better, and he didn't know why. He didn't know anything, anymore. Annabeth perched on the edge of his bed and ran her hand gently through his hair, face blotchy, but she didn't let a tear fall.

The others filed out, only the soft click of the door and Piper's breezy shampoo reminders of their presence. Annabeth's warm hand squeezed his. Percy took one deep breath before wincing as his back screamed a protest. He tried to push himself upright, but he simply couldn't. He hated it, lying there like an invalid, taking tiny sips of air to avoid the pain, to avoid everything.

"You blacked out on deck," Annabeth whispered. His heart clenched at the uncertainty in her voice. She took a shuddering breath, settling next to him on the bed. "You blacked out," she repeated. Percy held up one edge of the sheet, inviting her to sit next to him. He couldn't stand seeing her like this, so unsure, so lifeless. "And… And I didn't know." Her voice broke as he tucked the thin, soft sheet around them, ignoring the pain for a minute. Annabeth's warm body fit perfectly next to him. She turned on her side so she faced him. Moonlight from a porthole illuminated her features, casting half in shadow and half in light. One grey eye sparkled, the other looked like onyx. Percy brushed a blond hair from her face.

"I didn't know what to do," she whispered, running a hand over her tired face. He caught it and laced his fingers with hers, placing their hands between them on the narrow bed. Equidistant from their hearts, dark against the white sheets. White sheets were a bad idea, he mused. Too much blood.

"It's okay," he said, running a thumb over her hand. "My fault." My fault. My fault. Everything is my fault. The words sounded like a staccato heartbeat in his head. Shadows loomed in the cool room, washing over them like wraiths.

"No, it's not okay," she insisted. "What if no one was there? What if I was completely alone and I didn't do anything and you died? Because of me, Percy, you would die." Annabeth sniffed again and shifted closer. Her socked feet were soft against Percy's calves as he exhaled softly.

"You can't have the answer to every what if," he said gently. Her breath washed over his skin, one of the few sensations in the dark. His back was still throbbing, but much less so, or perhaps he was ignoring it again. Annabeth smelled like citrus and something like the ocean. Or maybe that was just the open portholes, letting the sea breeze in. He could hardly tell, anymore.

"But I'm supposed to," she said. "I'm supposed to be the planner, and you're supposed to be the hero. It's just how it is."

"So?" Percy asked, pulling her closer. "We've spent our whole lives defying stereotypes. Hell, Annabeth, I was supposed to die. It was, like, preordained by the Fates. I think it's my turn to have the plan for a little bit." It was. It was his responsibility, all of this, because it was all his fault. He had to.

"I can't let you," she whispered. No. No. No. He couldn't let her take responsibility.

"Let's make a deal," he offered, moving his hand to her chin. His back twinged in pain as he ran his thumb over her lips. But it was his fault. He would have to sacrifice to fix it. Percy let the pain wash through him, spiking up his spine and through his skull, feeling like someone had taken a hammer to his eyes. He'd do anything for Annabeth.

Annabeth's eyebrows rose and she bit her lip. "What sort of deal?"

"Let's switch places," he offered, meeting her eyes. "You can be the crazy hero for a while- not that you weren't always the hero- and I'll be the planner." Percy kissed her forehead gently, pulling her tight.

"I could go for that, if not for the fear the world would self-destruct around us," she offered. She smiled and he felt like all his pain had washed away.

"I could go for that, so long as it's you and me left standing," said Percy. He could tell she was rolling her eyes, even in the near pitch black.

"You're hopeless," she giggled, kissing his nose.

"But you love me anyway," he returned, kissing her cheek, then her nose, then the corner of her lips.

"For reasons I haven't figured out yet." Annabeth sighed, tugging on the corner of the sheets. The cloth tugged on the edge of his bandages, but he barely felt anything in his bubble with her.