ACT THREE

"Now I am quietly waiting for the catastrophe of my personality to seem beautiful again, and interesting, and modern." —Frank O'Hara

chapter twenty-seven: bury the hatchet

For hours, Percy's been drifting in and out of consciousness. His body feels woozy and distant, bearing no recollection of the pain he was in before. He hears voices—some familiar, some not. There's one voice in particular he tries to hold onto whenever he comes close to waking, but he can't quite grasp whose it is.

Blinding, fluorescent lights are the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, cast down from a bleach-white ceiling. He attempts to speak, but his hoarse voice won't sound. In a panic, his eyes fly completely open. His sight's fuzzy and maladjusted; all he can see is the hazy outline of what seems to be the inside of a hospital room. He tries his voice again, summoning his strength. "Where…?"

"He's awake!" someone calls out. "Nurse?" Percy squints into the brightness, trying to focus his vision. At last, he registers the presence of a girl sitting beside him. Blonde hair. A worried face, with dark half-moons stamped below her eyes. Her hand is faintly warm where it rests upon his.

"Annabeth?" he asks. His mind is still foggy, but events come back to him in waves. Arguing with Gabe. The blinding pain of his head slamming into the side of the kitchen counter. Collapsing onto the ground outside the trailer as sirens wailed in the distance. Annabeth stabbing his stepfather, then being wrestled into cuffs. Let her go. I want to press charges.

"How do you feel?" she asks, squeezing his hand. There's a catheter pinching his finger. One of his arms is slightly elevated, and an oxygen mask is fitted over his face. It's difficult to breathe—his chest feels tight, as though his ribcage isn't contracting properly.

"Hurts," he wheezes, even though the pain's actually tolerable. Whatever drugs they're pumping into him through the misty tubes attached to his forearm seem to be doing the trick.

A nurse with a clipboard approaches his bedside. "Hello, Percy," she greets him warmly. "Good to see you're awake. How are you?"

"Fine," he replies, voice rasping and weak.

She lifts the mask off his face, helping him sit up a little. "You suffered a broken rib, moderate trauma to the head, and a fractured ulna—the bone in your wrist," she clarifies. "Also, your X-rays showed patterns of old skeletal fractures throughout your body. Those reports have been sent to the police."

Brows furrowing, Percy fights against the lethargy slowing his thoughts. "I—I don't understand. What are you saying?"

She purses her lips. "Poorly-healed breaks result in skeletal fractures. Patterns of these are often indicative of childhood abuse, so your X-rays will likely be presented as evidence in the case."

Annabeth's expression remains carefully blank, but she hasn't let go of Percy's hand. "I gave a witness statement," she tells him, softening. "Thalia, too. And as I'm the only one who knew about anything, I've agreed to testify."

Percy can't look at her. He hates this intrusion of his privacy, however necessary it might be. But even though he wishes Annabeth would stay out of this whole humiliating situation, he doesn't think he could get through it alone. "Okay," he says quietly. "What do I need to do?"

"The police are here. Once you've rested for a little longer, they'll want to speak to you. Maybe take photographic evidence."

Swallowing hard, Percy nods. "Where am I gonna stay?" he asks, trying to mask the building terror in his voice. It feels like he's survived a reckoning, and he has no idea how to deal with the aftermath. The police will want him to talk, to confront his past and lay everything bare before a jury. And even then, there's no guarantee he'll be free of his stepdad.

"At the hospital, for the next few days," the nurse responds. "After that, I don't know. Annabeth here has informed Social Services that you planned to move into an apartment at the end of the month, but I imagine they'll want to discuss other options with you."

Percy feels sick. "Can you…can you leave me be for a moment? Please."

The nurse nods, giving him a sympathetic smile. "Of course. You've got a lot to process. Try and get some sleep—your body needs to heal. And if you want anything, just press the call button." She dims the light as she slips out the door, closing it behind her.

He exhales. "Annabeth?"

"Yeah?" She's tracing circles on his hand with her thumb, reliable and constant.

"You didn't have to do that."

Her thumb pauses in motion. "Do what?"

"Step in. Put yourself in danger."

"Of course I had to," she says, like it's obvious. "He was hurting you. Anything could've happened if I hadn't shown up."

Percy closes his eyes. "He would've stopped. Eventually."

"I don't care. You were in so much pain that you could barely move." Then, quietly, "You should never have had to deal with his shit."

"I know."

"Do you?" she demands.

Percy's silent for a moment, gaze resting on their joined hands. "That wasn't how it was supposed to happen," he says. "I didn't want to have to leave like that."

She looks confused. "Does it matter? You made it out."

"Yeah, it matters! I wanted to walk out on my own accord with my head held high. Not…not on his." Frustrated, he blinks away hot tears. "I hate this. I was fucking carried out of there."

"Percy, how can you think for a second that you're not strong? You're pressing charges. You're testifying in court. He'll never be able to hurt you again."

"I don't think I can face him," he mutters. "And just because the police know what happened doesn't mean things are gonna get better."

"Things will get better," Annabeth insists. "Besides, no one's going to let him near you now they've seen what he's like."

He laughs coldly. "People have always seen it. Most people in the trailer park knew what was going on."

She stops short. "Why didn't they intervene?"

"Because they didn't care! Why should they give a shit about a single useless, trailer-trash kid? Sometimes I'd get a sympathetic glance, but they had their own problems to deal with. It was easier for all of them to turn a blind eye." Out of breath, he clenches his jaw. "Besides, what the hell could they have done?"

Annabeth looks quietly murderous, but she doesn't respond immediately. Continuing to trace Percy's knuckles, she meets his gaze. "I wish I killed him," she says. "I should've stabbed him somewhere more fatal."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't," he says. "I'd miss you if you went to juvie."

She smiles at that. "It would've been worth it—if only so you wouldn't have to face him in court." She hesitates. "Thank you for doing that. For pressing charges. When they cuffed me, I was terrified."

"Don't be stupid," he says, rolling his eyes. "I wasn't gonna let them take you away, even though you were crazy to do that." He shakes his head, grinning. "I still can't believe you stabbed him. That was insane."

"He deserved it," Annabeth says, but she's smiling too. She lifts his hand, softly kissing their intertwined fingers. "You did it for yourself too, right?"

"Yeah," he admits. "But it was mostly for you."

"What was the argument about?" she asks, averse. "You don't have to tell me."

The memory is sore and aggravated. Percy doesn't want to think about it. He knows he'll have to recount the whole night in court, as well as tear open the scars of his past so the jury can draw their conclusions. But after all Annabeth's done for him, she deserves to know this much. "The apartment," he tells her. "He found out about my plans to move out. I was careless; I left the lease in my drawer." He scoffs self-deprecatingly. "Well, I guess I'm moving anyway, huh?"

"I know the situation isn't perfect, but this is still good, alright? You were shutting down in that place." Percy can't argue with that. He's never been able to imagine a life outside of the trailer, and knowing he never has to go back feels like a fever dream. "I just wish you got out sooner," she murmurs. "Hell, I wish I didn't believe you that first time you told me you crashed your damn bike."

"When you were out walking King," he remembers, wrenched back in time to when things were golden. "God, I miss that dog."

"So do I," she smiles, resting her chin on her fist. "I'm glad they're letting Bobby and Matthew keep him at the care home, though. Last year, I don't think I'd have been capable of looking after him."

Percy doesn't respond. Affection washes over him as he takes in Annabeth's face, charting the constellations of freckles across her nose and cheeks. "Are the others here?"

"Thalia's been talking to the police. Piper, Leo and Jason were in the waiting room for hours, but they had to go home to eat and sleep. They'll be back in a while—visiting hours open again in the morning."

His brows furrow. "How long's it been since I was admitted?"

"Twenty-four hours. It's about midnight, now."

"You haven't slept?"

"Only a few minutes here and there. They're letting me stay with you, as you haven't got any family to wait around. I told them I'm your girlfriend. That's okay, right?" She sounds uncertain.

He knows how scared Annabeth was of committing to whatever it is they have, and hearing her define it sends warmth to his fingertips. "That's okay," he laughs, suddenly senselessly happy. "God. What did the others say?"

"They were shocked we managed to hide our relationship from them for so long, but they were pleased about it," she says. "Piper seemed relieved we actually worked it out, and Leo looked like he wanted to cry."

"I'm glad you're here," he concedes. "I'd be freaking out a whole lot more otherwise." His eyes fly open. "Oh, fuck. My hospital bill. And how am I gonna work with a broken arm?"

"Hey, no. Stop catastrophizing," she chides him. "I dealt with your hospital bill. And don't you say a fucking word about paying me back, alright? Let me help."

Percy feels cut open. "I have money saved. I could—"

"That money's for your apartment," she tells him sternly. "Your moving out plan is still intact. No one's taking that from you."

A dozen protests rise to the tip of his tongue, but he stifles them. After years of sanitising his own injuries, of keeping himself afloat, of never accepting a helping hand for fear it'll bite him, Percy has no idea how to process this. "Okay," he says hoarsely. "Thank you."

"This isn't transactional," she reminds him. "We're allowed to help each other without expecting anything back, you know."

Percy forces a smile, hating the fear in his chest. He can have this. He can let himself have this. Reaching up, he tries to tuck a flyaway strand of Annabeth's hair behind her ear but his catheter gets in the way, dragging through it. "You're right. Sorry, I just—"

"Don't apologise," she says gently. "It's okay. I get it."

He draws in a shaky breath, feeling for the first time the ache of what must be his broken ribs. The next few weeks are going to be hell, and not just because of the pain. "I think I'm gonna sleep," he murmurs. "Can you stay?"

"Yeah," she says through a yawn, tucking her legs up onto her chair. In the dim light, the shadows of her face are inoffensive and soft. "I'm tired too. Wake me up if you need anything."

He nods. Closing his eyes, he surrenders to exhaustion. "I will."

A week later, Percy signs out of the hospital. With Annabeth's help, he proves his ability to support himself financially to Social Services and details the plan he made regarding the apartment over the diner. His social workers agree that emancipation might be best for someone in his situation, as he was arguably already living independently. He'll have to go through all the legal avenues and, of course, nothing can be finalised until Gabe is tried. Despite being in police custody, he's still technically Percy's legal guardian.

The apartment above the diner is barely large enough for one person. It only has a single window, and its bathroom isn't fitted with a door. It's smaller than the trailer—but even so, it doesn't feel suffocating. For the first time, Percy has a space that's entirely his own. He has a door that locks. More than anywhere else in the world, he feels safe here.

For years, he was terrified that his friends would find out the secret he guarded with his life. He thought that if any of them ever found out, his world would crumble around him. If they knew what Gabe did to him, it would become a real aspect of himself—not just a collection of bruises and buried memories. But somehow, none of that has happened. They're not angry that he lied to them, only concerned. They treat him the same as they always have. He keeps expecting them to demand answers, but instead all he receives is their warm, silent support.

At one point, Leo pulls Percy outside The Winehouse to talk. The others are all sitting at a booth inside, enjoying their milkshakes. It's been several days since Percy got out of the hospital, and he's trying to settle into his normal life again. "I can't believe I didn't notice," Leo admits, sounding guilty. "All this time…"

Percy's leaning against the wall, fidgeting with a fraying thread on his sling. He knows what Leo's talking about. "I didn't want you to notice," he rebukes. "That's why I kept up the lie."

"Yeah, but…" Leo sighs, glancing through the diner's steamed-up window. "Before I came to Virginia, I lived in countless other group homes. I know what it's like to feel unsafe where you live, but I can't imagine—" He stops short. "I guess I'm trying to say sorry. For not noticing."

Percy feels torn. Shaking his head, he insists, "Don't. Don't say that."

"Why not?"

"Because you didn't do anything wrong! None of you did. I'm the one...the one who—" He groans, kicking the concrete sidewalk.

Leo's brows furrow. "Stop. I get it, okay? When things got bad at the group home a few years ago, I almost ran away from Virginia because I was so scared to tell anyone. But then I told Annabeth. She convinced me to stay, again and again. Everything got better after that. Slowly, but it still got better." He places a hand on Percy's shoulder, grinning crookedly. "You get what I'm saying?"

Percy mirrors his smile, summoning a nod. "Yeah, Valdez. I get what you're saying."

Leo pauses. "Annabeth knew, didn't she? Before any of us."

"Yeah. She wrung it out of me on Halloween."

"Halloween?" He gapes. "But that was months ago!"

"We kissed that night, too," Percy admits. "I really like her. Maybe it's stupid, 'cause we've only been dating for a while."

"It's not stupid," Leo laughs. "You two have been mutually pining over each other for years, man. Me and Pipes had a betting pool."

"Oh, my God," he groans. "Really?"

Leo smirks. "She owes me twenty quid."

He laughs, shaking his head. "Shut up. I don't wanna know."

"I'm glad you two have each other," Leo says after a moment. "Especially after the fucking mess that was last year."

"I'm glad, too." Percy feels like a burden's been lifted off his shoulders, even though there's so much left unsaid. After the trial, maybe the hatchet will finally be buried and things will start moving again. Absently, he thumbs the bracelet of every charm Annabeth's given him over the years that remains on his wrist.

"Wanna go back in?" Leo asks, nudging him. "It's cold, and I bet Piper's nearly finished both our milkshakes by now."

Percy curses. "Christ, I was looking forward to that sundae." Shoulder to shoulder, they head inside.

Leo's right, of course; Annabeth's a godsend. She helps him find basic furniture for his apartment, even talks him out of buying a plain duvet cover just because it's cheap in favour of a nicer blue one. She even buys him a plant to help bring some life to his new place. She hangs out there all the time, helping him with homework like she always used to. Sometimes they'll lay on his bed for hours, talking, touching and listening to music on her old radio. It's a beautiful kind of freedom.

Preparing for the court case is pretty bleak, and takes up over a month of Percy's life. He can't stop flipping through every possible scenario of what might unfold in the courtroom, and is terrified that he'll fall apart at the britches when he faces Gabe. He envisions freezing on the spot, choking on his words or turning mute. When those things happened inside the trailer, no one ever had to witness it—but in court, there'll be a thousand scrutinising eyes staring straight through him.

There's one thing about the whole process that sickens Percy to his stomach: despite the debilitating evidence, Gabe is pleading innocent. It's been eating Percy up. Some part of him still identifies with the kid he used to be who would cower in the corner of the trailer, steadfast in the belief that his bruises were his own fault. After all, he never saw anyone else with them. It was only when he met Annabeth's incredible, glowing parents that he began to think, Wait. Maybe things shouldn't be this way.

Annabeth helps him get ready for the hearing. "You're gonna do great, alright?" she tells him, smoothing down the lapels of his suit. They're standing by Percy's door, waiting for Thalia to pull up outside. She's driving them there, but won't be sitting in on the hearing. She wanted to come, but Percy asked her not to. He'll be terrified enough without his friends watching, too. "If you start panicking, just look over at me. Yeah? Don't look at Gabe. He's not worth your time."

Percy nods, steeling himself. "Yeah." He feels like he's dressed up for church in his crisp, clean suit, but he can't stop fiddling with his fraying left sleeve. His right arm is still in a cast. Though it admittedly might win him some degree of sympathy from the jury, he wishes it wouldn't. He hates feeling fragile. His healed ribs still ache when he's tired, and even though he hasn't been working as many shifts due to his injuries, fatigue sometimes threatens to swallow him up. "Annabeth…" he starts, then trails off.

"What?" she asks. Her hair is carefully pinned back, but a few flyaway strands are beginning to slip out of her low bun. Percy resists the urge to tuck them back in.

He shakes his head, trying to quell the rising anxiety in his stomach. "I keep thinking I'm gonna go in there and they'll laugh at me. Tell me I'm making everything up." He sighs heavily, scrubbing his hands over the back of his neck. "Sorry. I'm just overthinking."

"You're allowed to overthink," she tells him with a quiet smile. "But you're crazy if you think that's going to happen. There's so much evidence in your favour, and I'm testifying. There's no way I'm letting them screw you over, okay? We're gonna show him hell." She gives him a lingering kiss, hope glistening in her eyes. Outside, they hear the screech of a car parking beside the curb. "That'll be Thalia. You ready?"

He squares his shoulders. "I guess I have to be."

this is up a day late, sorry about that! I had hellish cramps all weekend and writing just wasn't happening lmao. I did announce it on my tumblr, but I know not all of you follow me over there. the next chapter will be up on thursday as I'll need a little more time to write it, but then we'll return to regular sun/wed updates.

thanks for reading, let me know what you thought! if you like, you can drop me an ask about this fic on my tumblr, stolen-arts :D