A/N: Happy belated New Year! (And now we go back to school. Fuck. Me. Ugh.)
Disclaimer: All rights remain. A lil bit of sex at the end, but y'all already know how that goes with me: never explicit and more about emotions than detailed body talk. Besides, you guys are old enough to know what sex is without turning bright red in childish embarrassment~
Annabeth
"His vitals look good," Annabeth mournfully muttered, taking a seat at Nico's bedside with Percy. "But they don't know when he'll wake up." She could not bother to even play with the word 'if.' It was always 'when' to her. "It's all down to him now."
"No news is good news," Percy whispered.
She had never heard truer words. When people went away to war, not hearing from them was better than getting a heavy piece of parchment in her hands with a royal seal from a King. She had seen stacks of those letters on her father's desk so long ago. Absentmindedly, she wondered how many Percy had signed in his lifetime. It was a dark thought she tried not to dwell on for too long.
"He looks sick, Percy," she worried. She glanced out the window. The sun was beginning to set now, seeing as the jet had landed in the late afternoon. She still hadn't made all her rounds yet, but at least she'd been able to clean up and see Nico. Perhaps she would push her other delegations off until tomorrow.
"He is." Percy seemed to answer in short phrases when in this room. It was strange, like Nico's very presence took a toll on him. It was visible, too, in the way he slumped over the bed like it would hold up his burdens for him.
She fiddled with a letter in her jacket pocket. Desperate to change the topic from Percy's haunting silence, she pulled it out, and Percy's gaze shot to the crinkling paper.
"Hey, where do you guys mail things?" Things had changed in the three weeks she'd been gone. The Amazons had upped their security, especially after what had happened to Nico.
"Oh, yeah. It all has to be checked by the south border now before being shipped off. They have to inspect everything and make sure there's no moles to keep security standing. I'm going south later."
"You are?" Annabeth couldn't disguise her surprise. "What's down there for you?" She only ever went down there for strategy meetings.
"Will's cabin. I can drop it off for you if you'd like," Percy offered.
"Thanks." She watched as Percy took the paper from her, discreetly scanning the envelope. She watched as he read her brother's name on it. It'd been a while since she'd talked to her brother, and she had no doubt someone had informed him of her latest situation. It was only responsible to also inform Malcolm of her recent freedom.
Something about this freedom felt different, though. Everyone's eyes were always on her—well, more than usual. It was as if they were waiting for her to fall apart, driven to madness from the hospital. Strangely, she felt fine, if not a little weak and sick. And she got winded easily. Percy nearly had a heart attack when she started gasping for breath after running up a hill, rushing her to the infirmary earlier that morning.
In her humble opinion, Percy was much worse off than her. His hands seemed to tremble constantly, as if he had downed five cups a few hours ago, and something told her he was on the verge of a great downfall. She pondered when he'd last gotten a good night's rest.
"Most things haven't moved, though. My cabin's still off to the east," Percy mentioned, and she looked up only to see he wasn't looking at her.
It was true that this was the first they'd spoken since their big argument. Now, he was offering a clear invitation to come back to his cabin, to stay the night like she always had before.
Something inside of her churned. Tonight, she would talk to him, and she would make it all better. She'd feel terrible sleeping next to him without addressing the shitshow that had gone down beforehand.
"I remember," was all she said, staring at the ground. She took one last look at Nico. "Tell me if anything changes, okay?" Annabeth rose to her feet, and Percy nodded, entranced by the boy in the bed. "I'll see you tonight."
Now he looked at her, earnestly. "Okay," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "Be safe."
She froze at his words. That was new and given his current state, slightly concerning.
She knitted her eyebrows together, befuddled. "Of course," Annabeth assured him.
She didn't miss the way he let out a breath of relief at her promise before she left.
…
Her fingers quivered at the door, rapping gently against the hard wood.
A dark-haired girl Annabeth didn't recognize opened it. She had something in her mouth that she was discreetly chewing, and she looked bored at the ex-Princess' arrival.
"Can I help you?"
Annabeth awkwardly shifted her weight onto her other foot. "I'm here to speak to Thalia."
She squinted at her before shrugging to herself. "Lieutenant! There's someone here to see you!"
Annabeth flinched at the unexpected yelling. Someone? She supposed it was, admittedly, a bit conceited to expect everyone would know her. There was some movement behind the cabin door as the stranger left her abandoned at the front stairs.
Lieutenant Grace appeared in front of her, a scowl flitting across across her face when she realized who it was. "You're back," said Thalia, and Annabeth couldn't quite decipher her tone. Either way, she knew this wasn't going to go like how she'd hoped.
"I am," Annabeth agreed. And then, "can we talk?"
"I don't know," Thalia coldly mutters. "Are you still a bitch?"
"That depends. Are you?" Annabeth was willing to apologize, but she wouldn't take this sitting down.
Thalia pursed her lips. "Let's go somewhere else. My choice."
Annabeth held her hands up in surrender. "Fine by me." She gestured for the shorter girl to lead the way.
…
Thalia took her to the stream, it turned out. It wasn't excessively private or anything, but Thalia seemed at home next to the fish fighting their way past the slippery rocks.
Annabeth, on the other hand, sat a good couple feet away from the water, her anxiety returning. Percy may have given her a crash course in swimming, but that didn't mean she was exactly eager to get her skin wet.
Thalia stared at her as if she was taunting the blonde to go ahead and speak her mind. Annabeth took a deep breath. Apologies were always hard for her. Unfortunately, she was going to have to get over that discomfort quickly—she still had two more people to unroll her emotions for.
"I'm sorry," Annabeth began, immediately cringing at how stupid it sounded. "I'm sorry I listened to Tiresias, a stranger in all of our eyes, over you, and Percy, and everyone else who told me this was a bad idea. I'm sorry Jason's gone, and I'm sorry there's no coming back from this. I would trade places with him without another thought if I could." And she would. Perhaps that's why, in some twisted way, she felt she deserved what Octavian had done to her and her lack of sanity. It had been a long time coming.
Thalia stared at the water. "Me too. It wasn't your fault," she admitted, and Annabeth's stomach lurched. Percy had said the same thing, but she was having a hard time believing it. Some part of her knew she would always blame herself for his death, just like she'd drown in self loathing every time she remembered Bianca or even… or even the Luke before Medusa ripped into his mind.
"You thought you were doing what was best, and it was poor judgement, but it was genuine. And you did good, too." Her eyes were hard, and Annabeth wondered if the grass below her would wilt. "You saved everyone in that hospital, you know. Everyone but yourself." Now Thalia stared at her through her dark eyeliner. "I'll never say Jason's sacrifice was worth it. To me, it'll never be, but I suspect you'll always feel the same. But if we treat people like numbers…" Thalia's face scrunched up in pain, and Annabeth winced.
She knew all too well what it felt like. It was painful to pretend people with their own lives, aspirations, dreams, pains, stories were just numbers, placeholders, but sometimes that was all you could do.
"If they're numbers, then you won the world," Thalia croaked out. Her black fingernails picked at a nearby twig, scraping until the bark slowly began to wear down. "You couldn't save my little brother, but he made his own choices too. He decided to come, volunteering so he could be by your side the whole way through. You can't possibly be responsible for everyone else's actions."
Annabeth shuddered. "But I have to, Thalia." Her eyes stung with shame. It was this innate need inside of her to make sure everything was in her control.
"No. I am sitting in front of you, Annabeth, and I am telling you it is not your fault. It's not your fault people are filled with hatred. It's not your fault anyone died. You did not stand there with a rifle in your hands and shoot through them through the heart. And even if you did to some, they would have done the same to you. Sometimes, it really does come down to your life versus theirs, and if you've survived so much now, I ought to be proud of you as a comrade instead. You're doing your best, and it's a damn shame not to acknowledge it."
"I could've done more," Annabeth dared protest.
"No," Thalia choked out. She wrapped her pale fingers around Annabeth's slumped shoulders. "I am promising you. Take the victory, idiot." Thalia shook her head. "You're a delusional, stupid piece of shit. But you're a fighter, and I can't let you walk away and think you've lost everything. We're in the middle of war, Annie, and sometimes things don't go the way we planned, some plans go awry, people die. I'm proud of you for escaping that cursed bastard's hospital, and for burning it down with the sea Prince. You're going to lead us into the light, I swear it. They'll paint tall portraits of you, dripping in gold, and they'll carve your face into stone."
"Thalia—" Annabeth's eyes went wide. Thalia had an iron grip, and she wouldn't budge.
"Mark my words, Princess. History will remember you."
"Thalia, stop—" Annabeth pleaded. This was too much to wrap her head around, not now. The pressure was getting to her, and she could feel herself splitting at the seams. "It's too much!"
"They'll remember you," Thalia breathed. "Make sure it's a story you're proud of."
They looked at each other in a tense silence. "What did he mean?" Annabeth finally asked. When she doubts, tell her the answer is yes.
Thalia frowned. "Excuse me?"
"Tiresias. He said the answer was 'yes.' Yes to what?"
Thalia's expression shuts down, going back to the usual cold. "It's not important."
"It had to be," Annabeth argued. "On that plane, you stopped fighting Percy when I gave you the answer."
"It doesn't involve you, Chase. That seer didn't tell you for a reason."
"Thalia," Annabeth insisted, staring her down.
"I don't know how he knew I'd been thinking it long before Jason left us," her voice trembled, and Annabeth steadied her with the miniscule strength she herself had left.
Annabeth shuddered despite herself. Though she had believed Tiresias before everyone else, this was maybe the only time in her whole life she regretted being right. How could he see the future? It didn't make logical sense, and it left Annabeth shivering in the dark.
"I wanted to know." Thalia screwed her eyes shut in agony. "I wanted to know if Beryl was alive. Now I don't know what to do."
"Beryl?" Annabeth pressed, befuddled.
"A shell of a woman. I had thought she drank herself to death, but I guess that was too much to ask for," Thalia spat. "Jason's—and my own—mother."
Piper
"Am I interrupting?"
Annabeth and Thalia jolted, startled. They wore serious expressions like they'd been discussing their own funerals.
Annabeth glanced to Thalia. "No, I don't think so. I was just leaving." She stood to her feet, and Thalia's gaze dropped to the grass underneath her. "Percy's probably waiting up for me anyways," she mumbled.
Piper's heart squeezed painfully; Jason used to wait for her like that. He had promised he'd wait forever for her to make up her mind over them.
"Wait." Piper grabbed her by the arm probably too tight, though, because Annabeth's eyes went wide in surprise. "Percy's been really tired lately," she warned, biting her bottom lip nervously.
Annabeth's face scrunched up in confusion. "We all have been," she slowly expressed. "Why would he be excluded from that?"
"No, I mean… really tired. Just be good, okay?" She couldn't help but feel that she was sending her friend off to battle an atomic bomb. He was on the edge of detonating, and this was dangerous territory to tread.
Annabeth looked at her strange. "Okay," she hesitantly agreed and shrugged her hand off. "I'll see you tomorrow," she called over her shoulder before disappearing into the dark of the night.
"What's wrong, panflute?" Thalia jarred her back into the present. She glanced down to see the dark-clothed girl dragging a black boot through the water. Piper cringed; it would be all soggy and gross now. Thalia was another kind of reckless that she couldn't even begin to fathom.
"I just think it's been awhile since we've spoken," Piper delicately declared, eyeing Thalia's face to gauge her reaction. Lieutenant Grace's jaw tensed, her teeth clenching.
"Yeah?"
"Yes," Piper confirmed, sitting across from her and neatly folding her legs in front of her. She could still remember how she'd spent Jason's birthday, curled up in her cabin reading letters he'd left her what felt like a million years ago. "We haven't spoken since the incident."
Thalia winced. "I know," she admitted.
"It's been lonely," Piper whispered, and Thalia didn't react, but she knew deep down that Thalia felt the same.
Their voices echoed across the stream anyways, the wind carrying their secrets along.
Percy
The screen flickered in front of him. His eyes felt heavy, but he couldn't bring himself to shut it off.
There, in all his glory, was none other than his brother, coldly stepping out off a jet, bathed in royal riches around his pale neck. Was it just him or did Luke look skinnier than he had two months ago?
It was July 6th, which Percy could hardly believe. Nearly a month ago Annabeth was stolen from him. A month and a half ago, Epresh and Jirot put down their firearms and fought alongside the Amazonians and Canadians. Two months ago, they were thrown out of their royal homes, and he discovered his mother was alive just as his father died, and then his brother rose to power.
It was startling to realize just how much had changed in eight weeks, give or take some, and how his entire life had shifted to something darker.
Annabeth's birthday was six days away. He mildly wondered if she even felt like celebrating after all that'd happened. It had only been five days since Jason should have turned seventeen. That in itself was a punch to the stomach.
Percy snapped out of his inner, most intimate thoughts when the TV blared out of turn. He stood up hastily, staring at the screen in quiet horror.
Queen Aphrodite was dead.
He'd never been particularly close with the nasty Queen, but he could remember a few, selective good memories with her and his father, just the three of them. Piper had been too young to remember. Piper…Percy's eyes fluttered shut. He wasn't sure how she'd react when she found out. Legally speaking, she was an orphan now.
"This is a dark time for all of us."
Percy's eyes flew open at the familiar voice. Luke was delivering an address.
"We have villains among us, but we can choose what future we build for our children." His blue eyes were serious. For a moment, Percy thought he could see the boy he once knew, the one who really, truly cared about people, but then it was gone just as fast as it'd come. But no—he couldn't afford to be familiar with the current King of Thasite. When push came to shove, someone would have to die.
A chill ran through Percy.
"And the Amazons, your Highness?" a reporter shouted in the audience. Cameras spun, lights flashing and blinding.
"The Amazons?" Luke's face was impassive. "I have not forgotten them. We will crush them, I promise. For all they have taken from us, they will pay. I have not forgotten the traitors either." Percy's blood ran cold; that would be him and Annabeth. "When I get my hands on them, they will be at the end of their ropes, and they will get the justice they deserve."
The crowd rioting, roaring and cheering.
Percy reached up and touched his neck, subconsciously. Luke had never been stronger than him growing up, but like Annabeth, he relied on his strongest talent: the ability to empower the right crowd and tear down the other, to rile up a crowd or calm them down, to manipulate a sea of faces with nothing more than words.
"What about the escaped Pevanshire, Sir? And the Raya?"
Luke didn't blink. "They too are traitors. They will receive the same end as the others."
Not Nico. Percy sucked in a shaky breath. He could fall to his brother's feet, but not his longtime friend, not Nico. He would rather die first.
Annabeth
"I heard someone destroyed your father's grave," Annabeth announced when she stepped into the cabin later that night. Her talk with Thalia had run longer than she'd expected and when a faint knock interrupted the nasty subjects—it had been Piper seeking out Thalia—she had dismissed herself, greeting Piper with a half-smile before parting out the door. It had been a long, emotional evening, but there was still more to come. She had a man to apologize to, the one she'd left in the dark while she played as Octavian's stupid, little puppet.
What she found instead was strange. Percy was curled up in a corner, sulking as he stared out the window. He turned to look at her now, and the unsettled feeling returned. Piper had said he was tired, had warned her, but she hadn't expected the results to be this severe. Perhaps her apology would have to wait.
"We should go back to Thasite when we can, so you can properly pay your respects," she suggested, albeit warily.
"No," Percy resisted.
Annabeth's mouth turned down in a frown. "No?" she echoed. "But—but he's your blood. You must have some semblance of connection with him, should you not?" Even her own father had never been someone she adored, clearly, but she could indeed recall a couple of somewhat tolerable moments with him.
"He's not my family," he aggressively spat. "My family should be dead."
Annabeth stepped back like he'd slapped her. "You love Sally!" she accused. "How can you say that?"
"It doesn't matter anyway," said Percy darkly, cutting her off. She found herself shrinking under his sharp gaze. "Everything that lives sooner or later dies. We all will someday."
Her mouth opened and closed like a fish, thoroughly appalled by his lack of emotion. "That's a horrible thing to say! I never could've imagined you were so cold!"
"Cold?"
He stood up. There was something in his voice that made her uneasy.
Percy dropped a box, startling her. The contents spilled across the wooden ground, but before she could inspect them, Percy had rounded on her. "What right do you have to talk to me about being cold? You knew right from the start that I am cold to all but you; it's the way I am." His eyes were blazing, swirling like mini hurricanes.
"Percy—"
"Exactly what that old man wished and now he got it. That's what he wanted me to be!"
Annabeth knew then that he was talking about something entirely different now. She wished to back away further, but found the cool wall behind her restricting all movement. Percy pressed into her, warming up with his fury. Annabeth slyly brushed her fingers across his wrist and wasn't surprised to pull back from the heat. He was feverish from lack of self-care.
Either way, she fought him back. It was the way she was. "That's awful, Percy. Even when he's gone, you're still fighting him? How can you say you'll never visit him?" She was grasping onto pieces of him she thought she recognized. It couldn't all be an illusion, not the caring young man she knew and loved.
First he had denied killing the old man, then he had fallen into depression, and now he had resorted to anger. It was to be expected, but that didn't mean Perseus wasn't terrifying, a formidable enemy, and a worse lover for he could snap her heart into two with a single word.
"He wanted me to be shrewd, to be cold and calculating. He wanted me to win every single time, no matter who I went up against."
She could see it all now. She could imagine a small Percy making a mistake on an exam, only to be berated for one or two wrong. She had grown up with no expectations of her, and so she'd set standards for herself. He had been pushed into it, and that was very, very different. She could only imagine how that had played a hand in Luke's becoming. Annabeth shuddered.
"You're making a mistake," she whispered.
"I hate to think I ever followed that old man's wishes, but I chose to conform to his standards. Dead or not, why should I pity a man who has lost? No, I'm definitely not making a mistake."
She trembled in her shoes, both in disgust and dread. "Percy, I hate it when you say such cold things…!" Pressing both palms into his chest, she shoved him off, eyes blown wide.
"Even if you hate me," he shook his head to himself, seemingly resigned, "that's who I am."
This was perhaps the first time that Annabeth had ever been disappointed in Percy, and that in itself was a punch to the gut. Normally, she would've blamed such a reckless attitude on alcohol—she'd gotten wasted her fair share on crisp champagne in crowded ballrooms—but Percy was alarmingly sober for his state of mind.
She spoke without thinking. "I don't recognize you when you're like this! The resemblance is uncanny, and concerning, and I can't help but see—" Annabeth snapped her mouth shut at the realization of what she was about to say, covering it with her hands hastily.
Percy narrowed his eyes at her. "What, Annabeth? Can't say it? Go ahead."
She shook her head, frightened and quiet. The truth could only have a caustic effect.
"Say it," he repeated, his face tilting to one side. It was a challenge, and, for once, she would not meet it.
"I won't. You're tired and sleep-deprived, and so you're being cruel and saying ghastly things. Just go to bed, Percy," Annabeth implored him, but she knew it was in vain. She would talk to him in the morning, when he would hopefully be more reasonable and certainly less intimidating.
"Even now, even after all he put you through, you still see Luke," Percy breathed, and it felt worse than she imagined it would. "Tell me, do you see him every time you see me, or only now, when I've reached my limit? Is it terrifying? Do you fear me like you fear him? Or do you only fear me because you know deep down what he's like, you can read him like a book, but I'm much too unpredictable?"
"Stop it," pleaded, the ill feeling building in her gut. She felt she would hurl, but he went on anyways.
"And if things were different, would you still be standing here?" There was a hint of desperation in his voice, but it was drowned out by the question, a question she too, admittedly, had been asking herself often.
Had Luke been normal, had everything gone according to Athena's plan, if they weren't in the middle of a thousand wars, both internal and external, who would she have chosen: Luke or Perseus?
Involuntary tears pricked at her eyes. The agony of the last few weeks had made her emotional and weak.
"Don't look at me like that," she muttered. "You can't possibly ask me that, Percy. You know just as well as I do how unfair it is."
"Is it?" His expression was placid, but she didn't let that fool her.
"It is!" Tears of anger rolled down her cheeks now. "Imagine if I asked you to choose! Would you have rather had Sally stay in your life and not have woken up as a child wondering why your mother committed suicide, wondering if it was all your fault, wondering why she left you behind, or would you rather have never had a brother? Medusa wouldn't have been there to plague you, sure, but Luke never would've been your best friend. You wouldn't have known he existed!"
Percy flinched, but she didn't care, her pent-up frustrations releasing.
"Now pray tell me, is that a fair question for me to ask you? Could you choose?" she accused. "You couldn't! I can't! You're a coward, Perseus Jackson Calbourne, only you will never be able to admit it! You'll hide behind niceties until you snap, and when you do, you take it out on the people around you, you pathetic excuse for a man!"
"You act so high and mighty, but you forget you had hid behind lies first. You tricked me! And I killed my father for it." He glared her down. "And I lost a brother! He never would've done any of that shit if it wasn't for you. Poseidon was delusional, but he was right in that!"
It was all coming up like word vomit now, and it was horrible, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. They were spiraling out of control, floundering like two fish out of water. It was more toxic than being chained up by Octavian, she found herself thinking. At least Octavian knew he was crazy.
Annabeth's flared in fury. "He would've found a way!" she screamed, her voice hoarse. She was sure they were making a racket. Their isolated cabin was a blessing now. "Medusa twisted his brain, don't you see? She made him into a monster. No one did such to you; your fucked-up-self is a product of you and you alone!"
"Why should I apologize for the monster I've become when nobody apologized for making me this way?" he bit back. "No one dug in my mind, but trauma is enough to drive someone mad. You should know! You've been crying since you came out Octavian's clutches, and no one can understand why, but I know. I was in my father's army since I was fourteen." He grinned, but it was humorless, and it rubbed her the wrong way. That was a lie too, she knew. She'd gone through his archives out of curiosity; he had been twelve.
"God, you're so stupid!" Annabeth roughly carded her fingers through her hair, pulling painfully at the roots. "The Percy I know would never say that!"
"Then maybe you don't know me at all!"
"Maybe I don't! I'd much rather not know you if this is the version of you you've become! You're a slave for bitterness, and I can't stand it."
Percy's mouth pressed into a thin, grim line.
Annabeth squeezed her eyes shut before glaring up at him. "I know now; shit, I've known all along!"
She should've stopped, she really should've. It was a lie, and they both knew it. It was a last attempt to get back at him for the pain they caused each other. Choosing was impossible; both of them were just as much a part of her as she was of them, for better or worse. But anger drove people insane.
Percy stilled, small puffs of air escaping his lips. For a moment, she could see the little boy in him all over again, but she ripped through him anyways, a merciless bulldozer.
"If it was a frightened boy with a wretched mother or a child soldier with mommy and daddy issues, then I would've picked him! I would've picked him because at least there's a part of him that wanted to fix the world, even if he was misled, even if Medusa led him askew! He didn't sit around and curse the world and hate his life and everyone around him, and when he hurt people, it was an accident, only ever an accident. But you feed off spite; you're a callous, miserable, lonely man!"
Annabeth's vision blurred, her head pounding. She covered her ears. It felt like a jackhammer was drilling holes through her head.
"And—and he certainly never, ever, would purposefully hurt me like you do!"
She was trembling when she was finished, and burying her face into her hands, Annabeth crumpled onto the bed. This was too much for one day. Her face had gone white, all color draining from her skin with the toll the argument took on her. Arguments with Percy were rare, but exhausting and emotionally-sucking.
She knew she had gone too far. She had lied past her limit, and though she suspected Percy knew as well as her, it still felt like someone had ripped out her heart and stomped all over it. She would have never picked Luke so easily.
She still would not, but when put in a position like this, all she could think of was trying to hurt him like he hurt her. Only she never understood how such an admission, false or not, would hurt her too.
She didn't move an inch when Percy spun on his heels, muttering an excuse under his breath before promptly leaving the cabin.
…
Percy's strides were too long, even for her, but she wouldn't let him go this easily, not after she'd just gotten him back.
"Stop," she beseeched, running after him. She reached out for him.
Percy flinched away. "Don't," he warned. He gracefully dodged her touch like a little kid avoiding a mother ruffling his hair. He backed away from her, her hands raised in surrender.
Annabeth reluctantly pulled away, her hands hesitantly hovering near his face.
"It was a lie, damn it; you know this as well as I do," she fiercely reminded him.
"Who gives a fuck about that?" he muttered. Finally resigned, it seemed, Percy's head fell in his hands. He had run out of steam. He took a seat on a nearby boulder and roughed up his face before resting his chin on his fists, staring out to the water.
"You're worrying all the time about everyone and everything. I'm guessing you're not sleeping either by the bags under your eyes," Annabeth gently mentioned, a rare an act of kindness for her. "Don't overwork yourself." She discreetly slid next to him on a log. He was supposed to be the better half.
"Annabeth…" he whispered, his eyes fluttering shut. "I never should have come here," he admitted.
Her heart sank. "Percy?" Her voice sounded small, even to her own ears.
"I'm not cut out for this," he mumbled under his breath. Annabeth felt like an intruder, imposing on an intimate moment. "I've got to get out of here. Luke's death would've been better. At least it would've been quick."
"Don't say that." She was taken aback by his bold words.
"Nico's going to die." Percy muttered. He was changing topics so fast she didn't know how to keep up.
"We have to trust he won't," she murmured.
"At least he won't be lonely anymore." His hair fell in his eyes; it had grown long, but Annabeth had never really gotten around to forcing him to trim it. Percy cursed under his breath. "I can't do this. He averted his gaze, standing up.
"Where are you going?" Annabeth sprung to her feet, running to catch up with him.
"Nowhere in particular." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Go back to the cabin." He sighed, his exhaustion deeply engraved in his face.
"Not without you," she stubbornly said, her bottom lip quivering despite herself.
"Annabeth." Percy pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not today, okay? Please." He peered down at her. "Besides, you're shivering." He pointed to her.
Annabeth glanced down. It was true; being so close to water both made her nervous and chilly. "The faster you come with me, the quicker I stop shivering," she bargained.
Percy hesitated just as she suspected he would, afraid for her before himself, but then he surprised her. "Please just go." He turned her away like she was an errant toddler, lost on her way. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes.
"No." Her fists balled up at her sides. "I'm not afraid of you, no matter what you do or say."
"Maybe so." He didn't sound convinced. "But you're angry, with good reason, as am I. Let me be," he reasoned.
"You're angry?"
She didn't remember him ever admitting it out loud. He was like his brother in that manner, quietly bottling up his emotions. Annabeth couldn't fathom it, not when she so loudly expressed all things running through her head at every moment of her life. She imagined it must've been like a jail cell, only in your own head. And he'd thrown away the key a long time ago.
Percy nodded sullenly. "It's been a while since I've been this angry, like if you cut me I'd bleed fire."
"Then I'll cut you a thousand times with my words until the fire has extinguished."
"Look, you don't want to be here if I erupt, so get the hell away from me before I hurt you more than I already have, before I regret saying or doing more things than I already do."
"No." Annabeth chewed her bottom lip, balking in the silence she'd devised. "If you hate me, then show me. If you regret things, then tell me. If you're hurting, then let me heal you. If you want to hurt someone, then hurt me only." She blinked back tears. "But don't leave me alone again. I've been numb for so long, and I can't do it anymore," she prayed. This time when she cupped his face in her hands, he didn't pull away.
"I'm so angry at you," he grit out between his teeth, taking in a deep breath to calm himself. "I'm so angry at Octavian for taking you like that. I'm so pissed that Luke did what he did, that Medusa fucked him up, that Poseidon died, that Sally left, that she ran off to have another family. That Luke hangs over me like this sword because I don't know what he'll do, and I have no doubt that he's after you; I can see it in his fucking face when he talks on those stupid, stupid broadcasts. That you. Won't. Leave." The last one lingered over them both, unspoken: and I'm angry at myself more than anyone else.
Percy seized her wrists, drawing her closer. Annabeth sucked in a sharp breath at the feeling of being so close to him after so long.
"And you'll always choose him," he choked out. Percy frowned as if he'd never really said it out loud. The full weight of his words finally seemed to reach him, and Annabeth could feel the small, flat, hard rock left in place of her heart shattering into a million pieces. "But I want you to choose me, but I wouldn't pick me either if I was you because I'm just like you said: a fucked-up son of a bitch."
The corner of his mouth quirked up, but his eyes were blank. He squeezed her hand so hard that it hurt, but it was better than not feeling at all. Annabeth winced, but she relished his touch. It reminded her she was still alive, however uncertain this life was and however barbarous.
"Tell me you love me," Annabeth let out before she could stop herself, this wild, reckless abandon to be cherished overtaking her. "Tell me you're better than him, or my father, or everyone who's ever met me down, and I'll believe you."
Percy's mouth parted in surprise. "I don't know that I am."
"I don't care." Annabeth pulled his face close to hers. "So tell me lies then. Lie to me for the rest of my life if it'll keep you right here." Her words were heady, weighed down with the truth.
"Annabeth, I don't think you realize what you're saying."
"Don't hide on the couch outside the bedroom. Sleep beside me, suffocate me with your heat and your touch. Don't abandon me like they have, like I have to others." She wasn't sure exactly what she was asking for anymore, only that she was burning up with a fever. It looked like he could tell because he reached out to feel the heat on her forehead. "Please, Percy," she begged. Her lips were mere centimeters away from his, and she could taste the cool mint from his mouth.
"Annabeth, you'll regret this. You're just tired."
"No, you're tired," she retorted.
"We both are," he cautiously agreed, eyeing her carefully. She imagined that she looked like dynamite to him, on the verge of blowing up into millions of pieces and taking him under with her. A grenade in his life that he couldn't bother to leave behind, even if it was suicide.
Annabeth had her mouth over his before he could stop her. It was odd to kiss him now after spending the past half an hour screaming their throats raw with the worst possible things they could say to wound each other. And wound, they certainly did.
"All you do is hurt me," she half-sobbed out, wiping tears away with the back of her right hand. She guessed he was one of the few, rare people who could truly hurt her. These injuries were soul-deep. They were reflections of each other, displaying what the hated most about themselves in each other with their harsh language. "Fix it, Percy. Make it better." It was like when children sobbed for their parents to kiss it all better, only her parents had never done so. Maybe Malcolm once or twice, but only if she was a baby enough to freely offer her pride so easily.
"I don't know how," he stammered, clearly conflicted by her pathetic tears. Annabeth pulled him down by his collar, answering his question with actions instead. She had forgotten what it was like to taste him. She had only been able to dream of this moment in Octavian's cage.
"You're still cold," Percy whispered against her lips. He gave in, scooping her up easily. They blindly stumbled back to the cabin, Annabeth making herself comfortable with her mouth on his neck and chest while he attempted to navigate.
Inside the cabin, Percy gently tossed her onto the bed, slamming the bedroom door closed behind him. He glanced back at it once, unable to gauge his own strength based off the way he caused the door to rattle at the hinges.
"Are you sure?" His face lit up with concern. I don't care what he says; he's not as cold-blooded as he thinks he is. It is what is so good about him.
"As sure as I was the first time and the time after that." Annabeth's eyes slid closed in quiet bliss as Percy trailed kisses down her neck and to the sweet spot at the base of her clavicle.
"It's not enough. More," she requested, covering her face with her hands out of embarrassment. Percy easily complied, his hands slipping down to free her from her figurative armor. He sent waves of pleasure jolting through her with each fleeting brush of his burning skin against hers.
It became all too much, the senses overwhelming her. He was such a tease, barely skimming her skin, only this time she doubted he was driving her crazy on purpose. No, she was positive he was hesitant.
"Stop," she weakly demanded, but Percy drew back immediately, heeding her order. His cheeks flushed, and he looked down in shame.
He fidgeted across from her, scooting back to give her room. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"No, you idiot," Annabeth snapped. She glared up at him. "I'm not glass. I won't snap or shatter. Don't treat me as such." She ignored the way his mouth fell open in surprise. "Love me with everything you have," she dared whisper.
Percy looked her in the eyes before encircling the skinny part of her wrist with his forefinger and thumb. He gently squeezed, and Annabeth's eyes squeezed shut. She could feel Octavian's manacles when he did that, and she feared for a moment that she might throw up. Percy let go before she could cry out in pain. The orbs of his eyes were dark, nearly black in this light.
She wondered if this was the type of falling people spoke of.
Was falling in love akin to falling from heaven in that you could only become your true self once the darkest parts of you were cracked open and vulnerable for all to see? Even Satan used to be an angel.
Perhaps they were both sadists in the way they hurt each other, in the method to their madness when they hurt themselves. And perhaps they were equal parts masochists too, the yin to each other's yang. There was a stillness then, the quiet in the eye of a hurricane.
Percy captured her mouth in his, pressing her into the wooden headboard behind her. Annabeth gasped for breath, her heart pounding out of her chest.
It was an out-of-body experience. Annabeth felt like an old Queen, taking a long drag from a classic, rolled cigar, draped across a loveseat in a thick fur coat as she watched herself engage with Percy from a distance.
This was not her destruction; this was a new side: a foundation built on her rock bottom. At least it was stable. Her tower had burned down, but now she could see the moon through the foggy clouds.
"Percy—" she breathed, her eyes closed. He was whispering her name like a madman. He forced her to look up at him, and she was grateful. She wanted to see him, to never forget him. She peered at him through a curtain of eyelashes, her lids heavy with sated satisfaction. She wanted to soak him in with all of her senses until she fell apart.
He could tear her apart as many times as he wanted if he'd build her again like this, painting gold in all the cracks.
Will
"How much longer?" The blond hung his head at Nico's bedside.
"If he doesn't wake in another week, I don't know what to tell you really," Kayla whispered.
Will's shoulders slumped.
"He'll be declared in a vegetative state if nothing happens soon."
Will cursed. "He's stronger than anybody else I know, though," he pleaded. He didn't know why he was; it was not like Kayla could change anything. "He's got to come back."
Kayla sat down next to him. She was quiet for a moment. "Will, have you ever considered the fact that he might not be fighting very hard?"
Will's eyes were rimmed red from crying out his heart all the damn time and from pure lack of sleep or mental stability. "He wouldn't just go. He fought so hard to stay alive against that bastard Langen. He would fight now too."
Kayla played with the hem of her nurse's dress. "Maybe he's changed his mind. Maybe he's decided life isn't worth living."
"Life is always worth living," Will's voice trembled. "Always," he raised his voice. Kayla put a hand on his shoulder.
"Perhaps he thinks he's worth more dead than alive. After all, people are paying fortunes to have his head. It's a shame, but that's the type of thing I feel he would think. He's running out of hope, and he's not trying as hard as he had the first few days."
Will reeled like she'd slapped him. "You don't know him!" He pointed a bronze finger at her. "You don't know him at all; he'd never say that. He can't!" He desperately pulled at his own hair. The terrible part was it made sense. Nico was exactly the type of young man to overthink it like this, to throw away the biggest gift all for the sake of others.
"Will, don't make me drag you out of her again for being disruptive," Kayla warned.
"No! I need him to hear me! Hell, Nico, listen to me!" Will demanded, glaring down at the comatose boy. "Do you hear me? You are worth everything to me. Everything! Don't you dare fail on me now. Fight for your life, you idiot. That's your staple! Do you really want to go out like this?"
Kayla was dragging him back. The door slammed open, and nurses flooded the cream-colored room. It had certainly been a while since Will had had an episode of insanity like this.
"Let go of me! I'm his damn doctor; I've been his doctor since he was still living in Jirot. I know him better! You're giving up on him, but I won't! Nico, don't you dare! Everything," he insisted as they pulled him away. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he thought for a moment that Nico's heart monitor sped up. "Everything!" he screamed through the hallways all the way out.
The void in his head was screaming: but to Nico, he would always be nothing.
Annabeth
Annabeth slowly opened her eyes, the sweet scent of roses on Percy's side table lingering around the bed. The first thing she saw was limbs that were certainly not hers entangled with her own.
She tried and failed to carefully pry herself out of Percy's grasp, but every time she moved, Percy just adapted to her in his deep sleep, coddling her like a teddy bear. Usually he would've roused at the slightest motion from her, but she was sure it was a direct result of all the sleep he'd lost the past couple of weeks.
The second time she tried to crawl out of his iron grasp, he woke up. Guilt flooded her senses. Percy peeked at her through one open eye before opening the other. His forehead was creased like he didn't understand why she was here, but he relaxed when he recognized her.
He was sort of adorable like this. Despite his words from last night stinging as a freshly brandished mark, she decided they would burn that bridge down when they got there. Perhaps over breakfast. There hadn't been much talking last night, and thus, no reconciling.
Before he had the chance to declare apologies and plead for her forgiveness and drown himself in self-loathing, she cut him off, lightening the mood however she could.
"I guess what they say is true then," Annabeth thoughtfully murmured.
Percy squinted at her, his eyes still not adjusted to the light. "I beg your pardon?"
"Angry sex is the best."
Percy's mouth fell open at her crude language, his eyes comically wide, and Annabeth resisted the urge to laugh. In his surprise, he let her go, and she sat up in triumphant victory at being freed, pulling the covers up to her chin; if he hadn't been awake earlier, he certainly was now. She wished she could have captured his expression for all time. Annabeth cheekily grinned at him.
She mischievously stole the blanket, yanking it off the bed after her, and wrapping herself up like a burrito before sliding off the mattress.
"Shit!" Percy cringed, stark naked in the bed.
"Cold?" Annabeth teased, subtle when admiring the view in front of her.
He scrambled to grab his clothes and cover up. Annabeth's lips curved up in childish amusement.
"Don't bother," she dismissed him. "I'm starving. Let's get breakfast."
"Annabeth—" he protested when she gingerly plucked up his shirt off the ground. "I kind of need that."
She nonchalantly shrugged one shoulder. "I like this view better anyways." She smirked. Percy groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Now." She flicked his forehead. "Food."
Now he looked up, his tone sobering. "I suppose we have a lot to talk about?" he correctly guessed.
Her mouth twisted too, solemn. "We do," she softly agreed. He gazed into her eyes, carefully taking her hands into his as he sat on the edge of the bed. She was only about half a head taller than him, even when he was sitting.
"Okay," he finally acquiesced, his voice soft. He traced circles on the back of her hand. Discussing the tough pills would be easier when you could drown it in fresh fruit and squeezed juice.
"No morning kiss?" Annabeth raised an eyebrow, uncomfortable by the reminder of the weight their morning would hold.
"I'm allowed to kiss you?" Percy searched her face, bewildered.
Annabeth rolled her eyes. Now he was just being plain ridiculous. "I mean you already—"
"Okay, I get it!" he interrupted, his ears turning red at the tips. She concealed a smile. He was a shy, reserved dork, no matter the persona he took on in blind moments of white, hot rage.
"Now get dressed!" she announced, scouring the room for her chemise and linen dress.
"You stole my clothes!" he pointed out. Indeed, the room was bare of most of his necessary garments.
Annabeth shrugged. "I'm pretty sure you're the one who recklessly threw it halfway across the room yesterday."
"Did I?" He winced, mortified, and Annabeth laughed.
"No, I definitely hid it," she confessed. He cocked an eyebrow at her. "It was necessary, you see," she found herself explaining. "And my present self is definitely thanking my past self." She did him a once over and was delighted by the scarlet red blooming across his cheeks.
"Oh, for fuck's sake. You're mad with power, woman."
Annabeth smiled to herself, helping him up. It was her own version of a peace offering, one he accepted, though grumbling and cursing. Percy let her set the pace as they made their way down to the mess hall.
A/N: Ah, I'm so sorry, Reader. I know you really wanted a heartfelt Thalia x Piper scene, but I was just so not feeling it. I might try again at some other point in the story, but for now, that's just how I'm going to leave it. Something about not discussing Jason's death feels almost more appropriate to me, given how many people have died. Idk we'll see.
All in all, I was so not feeling this chapter. It was totally filler ngl, full of nothing but reconciliation and shit which I get is necessary for characters to sort out their emotions, but idk I'm more excited for the next chapter.
The end of the next chapter is sorta interesting (well, to me at least), and y'all will finally get your answer about Nico's outcome (though I suspect you guys kinda already know how I've decided to end that mini subplot). Plus there's the death of someone next chapter that I think you guys will have strong reactions over, so that's super exciting. Strong reactions = entertaining reviews.
Until next time~
Fangirl xx
Mitsuha Miyamizi: Nico yes. Me too! (But we all know happiness doesn't last long around here ;)) I think Annabeth's too bloodthirsty to just let Octavian off the hook like that forever. I suppose we'll see. Thank you! Sneaky references to the canon universe is one of my favorite parts about writing FF. (That and torturing y'all, but that's not the point, mkay? Mkay.)
Ah, yes. The Nico x Percy scene was my favorite to write last chapter, by far. My favorite line might be: "I know your secret, Ghost King… I know you're a worrier even if you like to pretend nothing touches you up there. Must be lonely on that pedestal." It isn't even beautifully crafted or anything, and I'm not harnessing my inner John Green, but for some reason it just sticks with me. (My John Green-ness comes later with Annabeth: "We build walls around our hearts and stash our souls in little boxes and wonder why nobody ever saves us." Pls ignore me while I obsess/stress over things nobody even probably cares about. God, I'm such a sucker for word porn.)
DaughterofAthena223: Yes! That's always the goal. (Shhh, it's okay. Four of them aren't main characters, and of the three remaining, I feel like you guys only have a real, emotional connection with one. :P)
Guest: Hi, again! You're the one who PMed me, I'm guessing. Welp, I'm very flattered; thank you XD Funny enough, you're not the first person to think that. I remember I was on a PJO RPing forum when I was 13 (like two days after I joined FF) and everyone thought I was a junior or senior bc I'm "mature." Sure, guys, why not? Lol. People actually think I'm older irl too (I'm kinda tall :P) Anyways, I digress. Thanks for the high praise and the laugh. Your reaction was gold lmao.