I sincerely apologize for the late update, especially after leaving it at a cliffhanger. Here it is!
Disclaimer: I do not own PJO and HoO
The past twenty days had been the longest Annabeth had lived through.
She tried her damndest to stitch herself back together well enough to perform basic human responsibilities. However, her heart was elsewhere and her mind was fractured and exhausted. Her nights were filled with fitful sleep with daunting nightmares of loss and empty sea green eyes, face soaked with blood. The doctors believe that it was a privilege for her to not have seen him in the state they found him. She believes otherwise.
Annabeth was finally allowed into the infirmary two days after the incident. She remembered Will's pale, gaunt face, the heavy bags under his eyes as he shakily led her inside. He had washed his hands but the faint red tint on his skin indicated the blood that previously stained them. Will Solace's resolve as a doctor was astounding, she believed. It must have been difficult for him to treat Nico, to force down his grief and despair enough to steadily stitch his wounds.
If she had not known any better, she could convince herself to believe that her beloved was merely deeply asleep. If she had not known any better, she could have confused the blood-soaked bandages wrapped around his torso as a strange t-shirt he had gotten from storage. She had only realized just how delusional she had become since her separation from him.
His complexion was deathly pale, a horrid sight after she had gotten used to his sun-kissed Mediterranean skin. Adding to the ghastly bandage on his chest were smaller strips of white cloth around his right bicep and his left forearm. She knew that if she had gathered the courage to lift the white sheets off of him, she would have seen the extent of his injuries. She could barely gather the energy to breathe, much less remove her hands from her sides.
There was a gash tracing the side of his cheekbone to just below his jawline. Will's stitches were clean and precise yet, despite how well he had been put together, she knew just how broken the man she loved will be once he wakes. She was certain that he will awaken. She just had not realized at that time how long she would be waiting to see those mesmerizing ocean green eyes once more.
Thus, twenty days into her personal hell, she had followed the same routine. She awoke before dawn from a nightmare, not bringing herself to return to sleep as she knew it was but a futile gesture. She buried herself in plans and blueprints, refusing to allow her thoughts to wander to Percy's unconscious form so far away from her. By seven in the morning, she gathered her wits enough to drag herself to the bathroom and appear to look mildly presentable. She dressed and followed the, now, familiar path towards the infirmary.
The Demigods have become increasingly restless at the loss of their official leaders and at the bouts of insanity from their Lead Strategist. Annabeth knew the effects of having a brilliant mind. Without Percy, and with the increasing stress of leading the organization and looking for solutions in the Engineering division, with the minor attacks from the Rogues and rising bouts of rebellion in their organization, she had been stretched invisible. Annabeth knew that her mental health had declined significantly.
Annabeth also knew that she did not care in the slightest. She did not care that the respect her peers once held for her had turned into slight apprehension, fearing that she might break before their very eyes. She did not care that she seemed like a walking corpse as her exhaustion and insomnia took a toll on her. She was Annabeth Chase but she was also human. A human can only take so much.
She nodded solemnly in greeting towards Nico's direction. He had been the only one to have awoken. Despite showing exceptional recovery in the three days he had been awake, Will had insisted that he stay in the infirmary until he was fit to deal with the stresses of the Apocalypse and insanity once more. Till then, the young dark-haired man was forced to remain on his mattress, staring at the lifeless bodies of his closest companions.
As per usual, Annabeth took her seat by Percy's side, vaguely noticing Piper with her head rested on the mattress, fast asleep while holding Jason's hand. She spoke softly, her voice barely above a whisper due to the three weeks of grief and silence she had spent.
"I don't think I can last another day, Seaweed Brain." She breathed, allowing withheld tears to escape. She gripped his hand tightly with her own, planting a kiss on his knuckles before placing her forehead against his palm. "I need you to come back."
She took a breath, unsure whether she was waiting for a reply from his still-limp form or for a slight movement from his fingers. She was soothed by the steady beeping of the machine he was attached to. It was a reminder of his life, of his fight to see her again.
Upon realizing that he would not be giving her anything, she continued. "I've been trying to hold everything together, to keep myself from falling apart. I didn't think I'd ever be the kind of person to be so dependent on someone else to keep my sanity but I never thought that mankind would go extinct either." She furiously swiped at the tears on her cheeks, "I… I want to be strong for you, Percy, but it's so damn hard."
A familiar touch coaxed her out of her misery. It was a touch that reminded her of her responsibilities to the Organization, to the meetings she was forced to attend and the problems she was forced to solve. Initially, Annabeth had loathed that signal. She wished to be by his side, to be the first face he sees had he ever woken up. After twenty days of nothing, she was grateful for Thalia for prying her away from him, for reminding her of the struggling group of individuals Percy strived to protect.
She turned back to him, "I have to go now, Seaweed Brain. Now that you and Jason and Nico are gone, I'm all they have." She rose from her seat and placed a kiss on his forehead, holding his hand close to her chest. "I'll come back soon."
Everyone was seated accordingly once she had entered the rec room, taking her usual seat to the right of the now-empty head chair. Before her were the plans Malcolm had retrieved for her, for both the Engineering Division and Strategies. Since the Rogues' attack on the Demigod leaders, all the remaining members of the Board have agreed to gather thrice a week to maintain stability.
Annabeth refused to linger on the grief-stricken, solemn faces of her peers. It was an expression she saw everywhere she turned, a silent Condolence for the loss that had not happened yet. She had raged and screamed in frustration when she had first seen it, demanding for them to stop looking as if he had already died. Was she truly the only one who remained confident of his return?
She had remained blind to the true events behind her beloved's condition, until Nico's awakening. Will's and Thalia's words were purely speculation, an intelligent guess based on the freshness of their wounds and the bruises on their skin. She did not want to cloud her already chaotic thoughts with doubt and false stories. It was a gunfight, they told her. Percy did not fight with a gun.
Nico had been the one to confirm their suspicions. Their destination had been a large circular room located on the West Wing meant to house a stockpile of materials Evelyn Rose failed to deliver to Engineering. Percy wished to secure it before the Rogues had been informed of its existence. He knew of the importance of those resources. thus possessing them might turn the tides of their internal war. They had been ambushed by four clinically insane individuals armed with weapons they had stolen from the armory. Nico had been convinced by both Jason and Percy to return and request for back-up, as he was the most injured. Four gunshots. Unconsciousness.
She hadn't been there when it happened but she swears she could hear the sharp, loud bangs of a fired gun.
Her mouth spoke on its own volition, dead eyes sweeping over the six other individuals seated around the table with her. Her body remained stiff and her mind was elsewhere but she had delivered her report flawlessly, as what was expected of her. They had not acknowledged her exhaustion, the constant shaking of her hands, the edge to her tone. It was normal to them. Fear was normal to them.
Clarisse placed a firm hand of reassurance on her shoulder before she walked out of the room. Annabeth followed suit.
She was forced through five more agonizing days shouldering the burden of her sanity and the problems of the organization. Nico, finally, had been allowed outside of the infirmary, only to perform measly tasks under strict supervision. Jason had regained consciousness soon after Nico had been discharged. Like his older cousin, the most concerning of his injuries had been the bullet hole just below his ribcage, narrowly missing his vitals. Will was more particular with his recovery than even Nico's.
However, it was on that fifth day, a whole twenty-five days since the attack, when Percy's eyes finally cracked open.
It had been three in the morning. Like most nights, she had fallen asleep with her head rested against his mattress, her hand placed above his own. Well, she had counted the short bouts of unconsciousness as the most sleep she would get whilst he was in his coma. Others, Thalia especially, believed that she was killing herself slowly while waiting for her beloved's recovery.
She had grown especially sensitive to slight movements when it came to sleeping by his side. When she felt most optimistic, she swore that his fingers twitched or curled as she held them. Thus, upon feeling the slight shift and lift of his arm, she had been immediately drawn out of her "sleep" with a jolt. Her breathing ceased as she stared incredulously at the miraculous movement of long, slender fingers. His torso shifted also, almost uncomfortably as he avoided his side. His injuries were worst on his chest, thus he prevented any movement that could tear the stitches open.
It took Annabeth longer than she wanted to admit before she had gathered the courage to move her gaze to his face. She was afraid of what she would see there. She was too hopeful. This was the most movement she had gotten from him since she was allowed to see him. She could not stop the tears from tracing her cheeks, a hand involuntarily moving to cover her mouth upon seeing gorgeous sea green eyes staring back at her for the first time in nearly a month.
It felt as if Annabeth had the weight of the world lifted off of her shoulders. She did not care everything was collapsing around them, that everything she had ever known is rubble and debris. She did not care if Evelyn Rose declared war at that moment, if the Rogues had kicked down the double doors of the infirmary. Percy was alive and that made everything okay again.
His lips were dry and he struggled to form words. She had given him a glass of water, shakily guiding the liquid to his parched mouth because he could not find the strength to even lift his hands from his sides. She refused to be broken by the sight of Percy Jackson's weakness. The mere fact that he had fought against death was enough for her to call him the strongest man she will ever know.
"Percy." She had said, her voice dripping with unshed emotion of relief and joy and desperation and many, many others. "Percy."
He smiled kindly, though strained, not even attempting to reach out and touch her because he knew it would be but a futile gesture. "Hi." It was a simple greeting. He probably could not handle much more than that. He took a shaky breath, unsuccessfully hiding a wince and wetting his lips. "You're so beautiful." His voice was hoarse. She choked down a sob.
She knew she was as far away from beautiful as she can be at that moment. After merely getting a day's worth of sleep for four consecutive weeks, being unable to digest any more than five spoonfuls per day, and having absolutely no make-up on throughout her journey of self-destruction, Annabeth could hardly be called decent, much less beautiful. He was delirious, she swore.
Annabeth leaned over to above his headboard and called Will over using the standard button usually meant for nurses. She wished to be with him longer but depriving him of the treatment he so badly needed was cruel and selfish of her. Upon Will's arrival, she was cast aside to accommodate the doctor's need for space.
She watched from a distance as her beloved was fretted on by the handsome blonde man. Will Solace seemed to be free of all noticeable tension upon knowing that his valued patients will soon leave the infirmary's care. He redressed Percy's wounds, allowing Annabeth to see just how badly the attack had been. A bullet had been what had taken him down and yet the stitched slashes from knives lashed against his broad chest proved that the story went beyond what others perceived.
Despite the stings of pain and tight tugs of his bandages, Percy did not make a sound. She supposed it was his stupid pride that had gotten in the way of expressing his emotions or that she was within eyeshot and he did not wish to worry her further than he already had.
"I need to have you spend two more weeks here for recovery." The doctor tucked his pen inside his coat pocket, eyeing the leader wearily. "I know you won't do it because that's just how you are, but please, for our sake, don't strain yourself."
"You got it, doc." He teased, leaning his head against the headboard as he folded his hands over his stomach.
Percy did not seem to be in the condition to defy Will's orders nor could he gather the energy to reposition himself to lie back down. Annabeth knew, however, that the moment he regains even an ounce of his previous strength, he will insist on returning to his duties as the leader of the Demigods. She wished he would be the slightest bit more selfish.
"I didn't want you to see me like this." Percy mumbled as she was given the chance to approach them once more. His gorgeous green eyes were downcast, a world of pain and sorrow hidden from her.
Annabeth took his hand, her grip on him, on his life, tighter than she intended. He seemed so damaged, so broken, that even she could not return him to how he was. Darkness loomed over the three leaders upon their return from their mission. They had witnessed something that had shattered their resolve.
"I don't care." She insisted, she pressed her lips against his pulse, soothed by the constant throb against her skin. "I wouldn't know what I'd do without you. Everyone thought… they believed that you were going to die. I didn't. I knew you were coming back to me, to your friends." She shook her head, tears flowing down her cheeks and staining the white sheets.
He traced his fingers against her cheekbone, wiping her tears away. His expression was tender and filled with love, "I will never leave you, Annabeth. I'm not letting you face this shitty world alone. No matter what happens, until you don't want me anymore, I will be with you." And Annabeth knew that was true.
"As long as we're together, right?" She said.
"Always," He replied.
She will not ask him what had happened, how they had been so easily overpowered. She will not ask him the extent of his injuries or in how much pain he was in. He did not ask of the Demigods, of their progress in their advancements and their current state of mind. That will come later. At that moment, it was but the two of them. Two people connected by a fate worse than death, their shared brokenness tying them closer together. She relished his presence. After nearly four long weeks of nothingness, she felt alive again.
Yet, they did not speak. Their silence was enough. Percy Jackson was enough.