"And I miss you
I m goin' back home to the west coast
I wish you woulda put yourself in my suitcase
I love you
Standin' all alone in a black coat"
~West Coast by Coconut Records
A/N: thank you for believing in me. this past month, i've been grieving, but it's been a cruel summer for everyone in the world. I really hope that you are all safe & well.
Guest, hancakes, OgFrosty, I Am Definitely Jeff Bridges, FutureOlympian, MONKEYBINI, rehes, brookeyy14, Karakura Lion, Wumertil, Anonymously96, Thunderbird29, Elpis21, Guest, , AntiThalico, Artemis0406, thundever1, Guest, III Winter Wolf III, TheHelloToTheGoodbye, Elaine- thank you for your kind words comments. They are so thoughtful and they made me cry in a good way. Your words mean so so much to me and this chapter is for you.
Rosli - ty! I recommend The Song of Achilles and Circe by Madeline Miller. Hellewise17 - thanks! Means a lot to me. cursedhazel - thanks! HappyWhale - same! I've been in the fandom for 11 years and it's crazy to me. CrackHeadblonde - :)
xcvi.
They don't notice the sleek white cars at first, but once they do, it quickly becomes peculiar. Civilization is scarce in the wild Alaskan winter; it's been miles upon miles of desolation and emptiness in the past couple days of their journey before this.
Annabeth hopes that the five cars crowding them aren't here to add to their troubles, but that is purely wistful thinking. "Percy, maybe we should-"
A loud crack slices through the air and their whole car lurches violently. Less then a second later, one of the wheels of their car starts making beats of ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum as it scrapes the pavement. It continues to hiss as their car swerves, skews, and skids along on one side of the road.
"Percy!" Annabeth gasps. She sees him gripping the steering wheel tight, trying to control their trajectory. Percy glances through the rearview mirror and grimaces; Annabeth turns her head back and understands why.
A large group of scary looking men and women in crisp, pristine white suits are chasing after them. Annabeth dubs as the Guys in White (GIW) in her head. She should have known better than to think that they would let her go so easily.
One GIW from the closest cars catches her glance; she sees him brandish his steel pistol. It is obvious that he has just shot their tires.
A million questions fleet through Annabeth's mind: are these all clear sighted mortals? Just how big and how well funded is this secret government agency? Do they know that Percy is with her and powerless? But there is no answer to any of this.
Their car can't hold for long; they are teetering on the edge of spinning out of control. Annabeth can tell that Percy is using his powers however he can - creating ice sheets from depositioned water vapor to block GIW cars and making the road icier to guide their own - but these agents seemed to be well prepared. Supernaturally harsh road conditions do not stop them, and when two more cars appear in front of them seemingly out of nowhere, Percy has to turn, hard , and they flip.
xcvii.
Crawling out of the car isn't difficult, but when they stand up straight, Percy and Annabeth are firmly surrounded by some twenty odd people. Annabeth hates how nauseatingly bright their suits are; she can hardly distinguish them from the snowy environment all around.
A sea of clicks sound as these agents ready their firearms: it is a little more than intimidating. Annabeth is not liking their odds for this one.
Percy pushes her behind him so that her back is blocked by the car. A protest nearly tumbles out of her lips before Percy turns slightly and gives her a look. Don't argue with me for this one , he seems to convey, and she doesn't.
Annabeth just secretly hopes that the car wouldn't explore like cars tend to do in all those action movies. Those are just exaggerations made by Hollywood, right ?
"Leave us alone," Percy yells at the GIW, bordering on a growl. "You don't want to know what I'll do to you once-"
"-Once what ? Once you get out of Alaska? We'll make sure that you never do." A large, ginger haired man bellows. "You are powerless here. Your son says so."
Annabeth winces; this is not how Percy is supposed to find out about Sam's betrayal.
Briefly, Percy's eyes flashes in anger and amazement at the mortals' insolence, but he schools his expression, face as stoic as ever. It doesn't matter, anyway: there is no time to digest. These men don't wait to shoot.
They aren't playing games.
Percy keeps her pressed against the van, pinning her firmly against the metal. Her senses scream in anticipation of harm.
The cracks of the shots echo loudly all around Annabeth, ringing and ringing in her ears. She wants to bring her arms up to plug her ears; she wants to peek around Percy's shoulder, but something tells her that any move will result in harm. Annabeth fights her curiosity to keep herself still.
The volley of bullets charges towards them.
Percy barely flinches at the impact (Annabeth suspects that it's because he is trying to keep himself still to shield her), but their car is peppered with projectiles and the splintered glass slashes her face and her arm when the windows break. It seems like the GIW is determined to reduce their car into scrap metal.
Still, she can't raise her arms in defense if she doesn't want to be decorated by bullets herself.
Annabeth squeezes her eyes shut and prays to whatever deity that exists in Alaska that this will pass soon. As expected, there is no answer: in the land beyond the gods, there is nothing and no one for her to pray to.
The dust barely settles around them, seconds later, when one of the men shouts, "mortal weapons don't work on it. Use your celestial bronze weapons!"
They close in, then, trained and methodically, and Annabeth hears Percy give out a curse in Ancient Greek under his breath. She wishes that she had had the foresight to take the gun out from the glove box for them to defend themselves, but what good would it do? The weapon doesn't hurt mortals, anyways.
But to what the mortal says… She knows that mortal weapons can hurt her - and that it would hurt Percy, too, theoretically. But it doesn't, so, it can only mean that Percy is invincible in this form, however that may be - maybe as an artifact of being Thetis' son? Maybe she dipped her second son in the Styx just as she did with Achilles? It really doesn't matter.
What does matter is the fact that it seems like GIWs have a limited supply of guns and bullets that are made of celestial bronze because most are whipping out daggers and swords that are glinting in the sunlight. They are pulling out traditional weapons made for all things godly. How did they get their hands on them?
She can't dwell on that, because they are closing in quickly.
Something crackles by her side, and she rolls away just in time before the car shudders and the explosives underneath sets off.
"Annabeth," Percy yells from next to her, launching himself over her as the engine blows. The agents in the white suit use this opportunity to their advantage, and they are close, so close.
xcviii.
Some parries and some jabs later, and the agents realize that it isn't the fault of their weapons that they can't hurt Percy. It is just Percy's unique property.
Still, they try their best.
Annabeth can hardly defend herself against the many, many people closing in with just the dagger she pried from one of the agents but she tries. Occasionally, Percy would intercept a swipe meant for her with his body, the knives bouncing right off of his impenetrable skin. Mostly, they fight together back to back.
But they are also a little overpowered by the sheer number of agents there are. The GIWs seem to want to capture them alive or dead, and there are definitely more than forty some agents now, most arriving sometime after their car flipped.
Moreover, she knows that she's no match for forty well trained agents and Percy is already beyond exhausted. While fighting, he has to manipulate the surrounding environment so they don't die of hypothermia, and before that, during the chase, he had already tapped the reserves of whatever sliver of his divinity he has left to give them an advantage on the road.
Just then, quicker than Annabeth can react, there is a flash of bronze and Annabeth sees, in slow motion, of the dagger that aims directly for Percy's back, and she knows.
The next thing she registers is a sharp, burning pain on her arm, and she is down, down, down on the cold freezing ground.
"Annabeth!" Percy roars.
He shouts something else (something along the lines of nobody touches her! ) but her focus is elsewhere. Annabeth's heart pounds as she tries to stem the bleeding from her stab wound with her other hand. The smell of iron is quite familiar these days, and her blood feels so warm against the cold. Her other hand is coated quickly, and it won't stop.
At least she's not in shock.
She knows she's fading from consciousness, fast, but the real fascination is the men and women around her. They are all in white suits, all straighten their stance immediately and suddenly, necks bent at an unnatural angle.
She can see Percy in the middle, his arm outstretched ( that drama queen ), and all of these people's heads lull like rag dolls. They are all just marionettes on a string. Annabeth thinks of the tv show they watched together. He's bloodbending .
"Percy, don't…" she manages, but he doesn't turn to look at her.
She doesn't want any more of them to die. It's not necessary, to kill them. These people can be spared. They can't be the monsters that the GIW make them out to be.
But Annabeth can't help but let the thought slip. The pain becomes too much, quickly, and the last thing she sees are the suited agents crumbling on the ground all around her.
ic.
It's thunder storming outside when she comes about.
Percy is gripping the steering wheel tightly, a deep frown etched into his face.
Annabeth is too tired to say anything so she watches him weakly out of the corner of her eye. She doesn't have the strength to move her arm, and every little vibration of the car sends a jolt of pain through her body.
Aside from the wound on her left bicep, Annabeth felt the raw skin on her wrist. Her heart skips a beat; it was such an amateur mistake. She should have known better than to forget about the cuffs she had on, but she did . And they both paid for it.
The car rattles, slightly, and she loses consciousness again hearing the pitter-patter of the rain against the windows of the car and the low rumbles outside in the distance.
c.
"You're stupid," he says, red in the face, when she wakes again.
Annabeth feels that like it is a slap in her face. She has been called many things, but "stupid" is not one of them she is acquainted with.
She tries to move in protest, but she can't. An immense pain shoots up her arm, and she cries in agony.
Percy is still angry. "Stop moving," he says roughly, but his touch is gentle. "Why did you take that knife for me? I'm a god . I am also, as you may have discovered, invincible ."
She laughs, weakly. She can't quite explain it either. "I just had a feeling," Annabeth says with effort.
"I could have lost you," he says. Annabeth noticed with a start that he was crying. There are dried tear tracks all over his face.
She shakes her head. "But you didn't."
"How did you know?" He presses, and she is confused, then.
"Know what?"
He searches her eyes.
"Oh my gods, you didn't- I can't believe this." He murmurs.
"You're speaking in riddles." She probes. She hates not being in the loop. If she were not drunk on pain, she could probably deduce what he is referring to. But for the first time in a while, even thinking feels like too much effort for her at the moment.
"As you know, I'm mortal right now - but for the most part, invulnerable."
"Most? But you said-"
"-I know. I also have an Achilles heel in this state. This mortal state. Just like my brother."
Annabeth understands. And that's not all, either. "The tether: it's on your back," she states.
"Yes; you saved me. But you shouldn't have." He confirms.
"You'd die ."
"And you came close to dying! I have already lived thousands of years; it's fine if I die."
Hot anger rolls off of Percy, and for a second, Annabeth sees the terrifying shadow of Perseus the god. Even though he supposedly has little power in this land, Annabeth hears the tumultuous roars of the waves in the distance. They probably aren't even close to the coast, but she feels the ocean.
"I don't want you to die," Annabeth says irritably. "Plus, you'd be erased from existence; you won't even get another chance at rebirth," she presses, referring to the fact that gods don't have souls like mortals do. "On the contrary, I honestly don't care if I die. I'd just go right to the Lethe and try for rebirth." She adds as an afterthought.
"You should care, gods damn it." Percy replies, furiously raking his hand through his hair. "You don't even get it, Annabeth. You just toss your life around like it doesn't mean anything. You and all these other demigods-"
"-And whose fault is it, huh? You and all the other gods sit on your asses and order us around to do all your dirty work-" Annabeth huffs, half catching her breath. She still feels sickly, and her wound burns. Holding this conversation is much too taxing.
"-Don't change the subject, Chase. Some are forced but you've always been given a choice. You didn't have to rush into any of these prophecies; they never had your name written on them. You didn't have to go to exonerate the lightning thief or to find a way to bring Thalia back. She is the child of the prophecy, not you. And another child of Athena could have taken the challenges that you've been issued for, and you and I both know that-"
"-You think someone else would be able to find the Athena Parthenos?" Her hubris flares, and she doesn't even care how or why Percy knows what she's been through in the past, "no offense to Malcolm or Zayne or any of the others; they didn't understand the sacrifice that little quest would take. They would have died in Tartarus. They never lost Luke and they never got their memory unwillingly erased and-"
"- Damnit , Annabeth!" Percy shouts, and she freezes, half in fear and half in reverence. The air thickens outside their window, snow melting and rising and steaming . But his voice trembles next, and the boy breaks the car on the side of the road just to rest his head on the wheel as his shoulder shakes. "Damn it. You don't even fucking understand. I love you. "
He says that like it's the explanation to everything, and it is.
Oh, what a bad idea that is, for a god to fall in love with a human.
Silence hangs between them. Maybe he expects her to say that she loves him, too, but she doesn't.
He runs his hand through his hair again, before gripping the steering wheel tightly, lifting his head and fixing her with the most intense green eyes she's ever seen.
"Just… please don't do that again. You don't have to try to save me. Never again. Promise me."
She doesn't.
A/N: hey, i'm back. i missed this project too much and to be honest, engaging with you all has always been the highlight of every week for me during the quarantine. i've got a lot i want to say but i doubt you're here to listen to me being all vulnerable and sappy, so, onto things that may pertain more to your interests!
a. commissioned art for this chapter, scene ic, is posted in my discord (code: 8Qmdvn4)! i love this piece and i'm so excited that its time is finally here:)
b. my instagram (just made one!) is starlinks dot art- i'm posting some extra ylml art (and general pjo stuff) there
c. so... i see that there is now a fic inspired by this fic written by Tales After Dark! fyi, i blushed.