Chapter 35: Pain

A/N: Hello there, peoples. Yeah, I know this is like a week late, but life happened. And I didn't proof-read this, so sorry for any mistakes and I apologize in advance for the weird ending. I had no clue how to end it.

Anyway, if you didn't already know, Rick tweeted this absolutely horrible post where he said the song Hold On was perfect for the Percabeth scene he was writing. Basically, the song talks about a person not having the will to go on anymore. (Yeah; some pretty depressing stuff.) And, well… I couldn't help myself; I wrote what I thought would happen.

You're welcome?

Dedication goes to Rosi Golan, because her song Hazy is amazing and it screams Percabeth and was the inspiration for this and like 13784 other things.

Disclaimer: These things are really, really starting to get on my nerve. Um, no, I am not Rick, and I don't think anyone thought I was.

"What if I fall, and hurt myself; would you know how to fix me? What if I went and lost myself; would you know where to find me? If I forgot who I am, would you please remind me? 'Cause without you, things go hazy."—Hazy, by Rosi Golan ft. William Fitzsimmons

Percy sighed deeply, a groggy, just-falling-into-sleep sigh, and turned his head so his nose and forehead were pressed up against Annabeth's thigh. Annabeth froze, seeing his eyes twitch under his closed eyelids, the only other things moving being the rise and fall of Percy's chest and her own nausea rolling through her stomach. Annabeth took a deep, sharp breath and quietly moved away from Percy.

Annabeth swept her dirty hair back, desperately wishing for a hair tie, for something. She groaned inwardly and chided herself for wanting such insignificant things. Annabeth bent her head into her cupped hands and tried to rub out the throbbing headache.

Annabeth touched her dagger and held it over Percy's body so she could see him in the dim bronze glow the blade provided. Percy's face was peaceful and youthful in sleep, his too-long, matted black hair falling into one eye. His battered arms were folded across his stomach. Bruises and scrapes dotted his skin, but Annabeth's eyes only skimmed over those and were drawn to a more prominent wound.

Percy's waist was encased in their last bandage, dark blood already visible through the thin gauze. It was better now, he was better, but Annabeth still remembered finding him dying and alone in the dark, seeing the thick, jagged cut across his wait. At the thought, Annabeth felt a cold slide down her spine, like someone was blowing cold air on her neck.

Annabeth fingered her dagger, feeling the cold of the metal sink into her skin. That was one of the worst things about being in that place. It was always so cold. The cold and the dark stuck to Annabeth like an ugly, slutty tattoo, always, always there.

Annabeth's limbs ached, her headache was horrible and she was so, so hungry. Her ankle was still broken, her left elbow horribly out of place and her throat burned from screaming and yelling and dehydration.

And Percy… was dying. There was no point in denying herself the simple, if not horrible, truth. Annabeth wasn't much better off. When was the last time she had eaten anything? Drank anything? Annabeth wasn't any daughter of Apollo, but she knew what blood poising looked like, and Annabeth had the sneaking suspicion that the bright red line leading straight to Percy's heart wasn't a cut. She also thought that maybe her headaches and dizziness had something to do with the hit she had taken to the back of the head a few hours ago.

Her dagger suddenly felt heavy in her hands. What was the point anymore? Percy's dying and I'm doing nothing but slowing him down. It's my fault we're here in the first place.

Annabeth shakily stood up, fighting off the headache and nausea and the rush of color that temporarily blinded her. She looked over at Percy one last time, but this time she could only see his silhouette. She desperately wanted to see his face, but she didn't dare. She couldn't afford to lose her nerve.

Maybe I could make it look like a monster did it, she thought. Maybe he wouldn't know the difference.

Maybe he wouldn't care, a nasty voice in the back of Annabeth's head snarled. She squeezed her eyes tight, her mouth tight, her whole face tight, like scrunching up her features could somehow banish the terrifying, crippling doubt.

The tip of the blade pressed against her heart, Annabeth shut her eyes and tried to slow her heavy, ragged breathing. Just one move. A slip of the hand would do it.

An image of Percy's face—his smiling, pleasant face, not his dying, blood-stained one— was burned into her mind. She remembered what he had told her, "We're staying together. You're not getting away from me. Never again." Guilt pooled in her lungs like toxin, deadly and making Annabeth gasp for breath.

"I'm sorry, Percy," she whispered. It was so quiet, Annabeth wasn't even sure if she had said it. She remembered the way he looked when he told her he would give her a Something Permanent, that he would be her's forever and always.

But he wasn't always there, because that was impossible. Percy was training or at school or stuck in traffic or, more recently, acting as an amnesic halfway across the country or off in battle. And there would be a time when he would be dead and gone and she would need him, but he wouldn't be there because nothing is ever for always. She had been so stupid to believe otherwise. But sometimes it's hard not to have hope. It would be best—for everyone—if she just ended it, ended it all.

Annabeth pressed the blade into her chest, but before she could do any real damage she felt a cold hand on hers, jerking the blade away from her. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she saw a very tense and very shaken Percy, Riptide at his feet, casting a light glow on the two of them.

Percy grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, holding her tight enough to leave bruises. He looked so angry, Annabeth was afraid he would hit her. For a second, panic rushed over her as she realized exactly what he was capable of—she'd seen him kill Titans and create hurricanes, after all.

Instead, Percy just yanked her body closer to his, crushing her, folding her in his arms like he couldn't possibly be close enough to her, that even if they were one person it still wouldn't be enough. Annabeth felt his shoulders shook and realized that he was crying.

"Percy—" Annabeth tried to say, fighting back tears of her own, but Percy just cut her off.

"No. Annabeth, don't. Just shut up," he whispered, his voice raspy and scared. "Gods, Annabeth, what the hell were you thinking?!"

"What's the point anymore, Percy?" Annabeth echoed her previous thoughts, her voice low against his neck. "We're both going to die anyway. And I'm just a burden now. It's my fault we're here in the first place! Why shouldn't I do it?" Annabeth yelled in his ear, and even though her words were vicious, her voice was raw as she wrapped her arms around his waist. "I just can't take it anymore, Percy. I can't do it."

She knew if she let the tears fall, they'd come rushing out of her like a broken dam. Everything, every little thing she had spent so long working to keep hidden behind those concrete walls would come rushing out.

She'd drown.

At this point, though, Annabeth couldn't have cared less.

Her shoulders shook, hard, and the sobbing had a rippling effect on her body. After her shoulders, went her stomach and her arms and then finally her legs. Annabeth's knees gave out, and Percy was still holding her flush against his body so she didn't fall but was standing limp in his arms.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry," Annabeth gasped through her tears, her headache so bad she absently wondered if her head would split open. At least it would dull the pain, she figured. "I'm s-so s-sorry."

Percy pressed his wet lips to her ear and mumbled something over and over that Annabeth couldn't quite hear. His cheeks were still wet with tears even though he had stopped crying when he realized that she safe and wasn't about to take her own life. They weren't kissing, not really—it was more of them just gasping against each other with the occasional desperate kiss.

"I'm sorry, Annabeth," Percy said, and he realized that had been what he was saying. Not I'm sorry, but Annabeth. He had been saying her name. She shivered at the thought, but this time it was a good feeling.

"Percy, stop. I don't want your sympathy," Annabeth pressed a slow, lingering kiss on his lips. She found she had enough strength to stand on her own now, but she didn't pull away from him. They locked eyes, her eyes the kind of gray you find during a storm over the ocean, his the color of the ocean itself and she wondered if maybe that's the reason she's so dependent on him, because maybe the storm and the sea are meant to be so intertwined. "I want you."

Percy just nodded and held her closer, if that was possible. They kissed, and for a moment, everything felt okay, even if it was a broken kind of okay. Because, for a moment, she didn't feel the pain.

"Annabeth, you can't do that," Percy said between kisses. Sapped of their strength, they both fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. Percy helped Annabeth until she was sitting on his lip, straddling him. Percy blushed at the though. "Things suck, I know. But you can't... you can't resort to killing yourself, Annabeth. Think of how I would've felt."

Annabeth shook her head. "Shut up, Seaweed Brain," she told him, her fingers curling in his hair. "Just kiss me."

Percy complied, pressing his lips harder and harder against Annabeth's, not wanting to ever feel apart from her again. It scared him, what the thought of losing her did to him.

Eventually, their kissing subsided and they lay on the cold, hard ground together, their hands intertwined between them.

"Don't ever scare me like that again, Wise Girl," said Percy, pacing a tired kiss on her forehead. Annabeth was too far gone to give a coherent response, but in her mind, she thought, As long as we're together.

A/N 2: Ew, okay, I didn't like that. Well, it wasn't horrible, but I didn't have a fun time writing it, so I don't think you'll have a fun time reading it. It felt really forced and hurried. But it's 12:50 and I'm tired and I don't feel like editing. Sorry 'bout that. I have a really good one planned for next week, though!

Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers, and please, please leave your thoughts in the comments!