Yay, new chapter! Yay, percabeth! Yay for angsty flashbacks!
I'm being extra peppy because this chapter is just super depressing and full of Tartarus feels. D:
NOTE: Italics are flashbacks, normal print is present time.
Hope you like it, and every review is very much appreciated! ^-^
Percy couldn't remember a time when everything didn't hurt.
He opened his eyes, then blinked. It was so dark, it didn't make a difference. Those first few seconds, that's all it was: dark.
How stupid he'd been, to think that was all they had to face, darkness.
Then it had started.
He'd started to figure it out now, at least a little. It was horribly dark, pitch black all around with just enough light so that the shadows leapt out menacingly.
Every part of him ached, as if he'd just fallen from a great distance- which, he realized, he had. But this was something more. It felt like millions of hands were grabbing at him, clawing with razor sharp nails.
Everything hurt.
The pain had only gotten worse as they went on. They were tired, and hungry, and alone in the endless darkness. But still, they kept moving forward; and after Annabeth had collapsed, Percy pulled her arm over his shoulders, and they stumbled along.
Percy moved for the first time, and realized that he had been covered by a filmy layer of cobwebs. Shaking himself loose, he wondered vaguely how long he'd been lying there. As he pushed himself to his feet, his hand scraped against something unfamiliar.
Now, Percy wasn't exactly sure why he kept going, other than the fact that they had nothing else to do. It wasn't as if they had a map, leading them to the doors. For all they knew, they were only going deeper into the abyss.
Still, they kept going.
Looking down, Percy made a strangled sound, and leapt backwards wildly. He'd been lying on a pile of human bones.
That was when it really hit him.
Percy glanced to Annabeth. He was almost carrying her, now- her eyes had drifted closed, and her feet barely lifted with each step. Her face was constantly twisted in pain, and Percy knew that even know, she was fighting the voices that constantly echoed in their minds.
They were in Tartarus.
"Welcome, my hero. Did I not tell you? The sacrifices come to me." Percy barely registered the sleepily amused voice of Gaea, as he stumbled over another bone, breathing wildly.
They were in Tartarus.
They.
"Annabeth."
She didn't respond. Percy had started to expect that. Gritting his teeth, he tightened his grip on her waist, and took another step. It was only a matter of time before they came across some ancient evil that they'd have no chance of fighting. Even though he knew it was pointless, he lifted his head to scan the horizon.
"Annabeth!" Percy screamed, searching wildly. He took a few shaky steps, then called her name again. He turned, staring desperately in every direction and seeing nothing but darkness and the remains of more skeletons.
For one sickening, heartwrenching moment, it was silent.
"Percy-"
He almost wept in relief at that one, choked out word. Dropping to his knees beside Annabeth, who was still stirring, Percy pulled the cobwebs off her before she could see what they were. He caught her in a crushing hug, and then realized that Annabeth was shoving him away.
"Why," she asked, glaring at him, "would you do that?" Her voice was almost hysterical, shatteringly loud in the silence. Percy looked at her blankly, and she gaped at him, looking majorly pissed. "You fell with me. Percy, you fell into Tartarus! You could have let go, they could have saved you!"
"Annabeth," said Percy, his voice calm and logical, "I was never going to let you fall. It wasn't even an option."
"It should have been!" She protested. "It's my fault you're down here. If anything happens to you, it's because of me!"
"Then I guess you can't let anything happen to me."
She met his eyes, and another argument died in her throat.
This time, she hugged him to her. "Oh, Percy..." Percy closed his eyes, resting his head against the top of hers.
When he'd imagined a future with her, this had most definitely not been what he was talking about. They were sitting on a pile of bones, in the deepest depths of the underworld, in a place beyond their friends and the gods.
This wasn't a future. This was a death sentence.
"What do we do?"
Percy drew back, and looked at Annabeth. "I..." He met her eyes, looking almost surprised. "I guess we find the Doors of Death." Annabeth's eyes widened, and Percy guessed that she, like him, had momentarily forgotten their cause.
If it even counted as a cause, anymore.
Annabeth nodded, seeming to resign herself to the idea of something to work for. As if this was just another quest. "Okay," she said, forced lightness in her tone, "how do we do that?"
Percy met her eyes, almost apologetically. "I was sort of hoping you'd have a plan for that, Wise Girl."
And so they'd gone. With no other real option, they'd picked a direction and started walking. Even when the walking turned to limping and limping turned to staggering, they'd continued towards nothing and everything.
It was grasping at straws, but they had nothing left to lose. At this point, Percy had resigned himself to never seeing light again.
Maybe that was why, when Percy raised his head to look into the darkness ahead, he could scarcely believe his eyes.
Up ahead in the distance, there was some sort of structure, with silhouettes of people moving around.
Up ahead - and Percy blinked a few times, because it couldn't be real, could it? - was what he'd given up on seeing ever again.
Light.
