Annabeth stared at the boy beside her for a moment. It was nearly pitch black in here. It was cold, damp, unpleasant, and secretly, Annabeth thought it was terrifying. Everyone there was dead. There was the crabby ferryman with a taste for Italian suits, Charon, if he counted. Being immortal might be different than being truly alive, she wasn't sure. Aside from him, there was Grover. The sweet satyr, the goat boy that sent her to Camp when she was seven stood in the boat trembling nervously. His hands shook quickly, making it clear he was frightened out of his mind. Then, there was Percy, the boy beside her, the kid that knew nothing, who could also be referred to as the newly discovered demigod that she couldn't stand in the least. He stood in his place next to her stiffly. His eyes were wide. She could see him trying to keep calm through the shadowy darkness of the area. Annabeth bit her lip and her hand shot out toward the Son of Poseidon and grasped his fiercely. Her hand squeezed his tightly, and Annabeth assumed that if she could see its color, purple would first come to mind. She desperately needed to hold his hand, though. She needed to know there was someone else there, too. She had to be aware that there was another living thing here with her. She had to be one hundred percent sure that there was another living, breathing thing standing with her. Mostly, Annabeth wanted a friend (even if he hardly qualified as more than a way to get out of Camp into the real world). She wanted that feeling of being fully confident that everything is okay. She wanted what she had hardly known her entire life. Looking back on the moment, it was never clear why she chose to hold Percy's hand rather than Grover's. It hardly mattered. All that was important was that she felt the sense of unwavering security the moment her skin touched his. The sense of protection she had been looking for was found.
The beautiful song danced toward Annabeth's ears, begging the girl to come. The musical whispers of the Sirens told her to abandon the old ship, to come and enjoy this perfect life with Luke and her reunited parents in a world she had designed on her own. Pleasant-sounding voices welcomed her into this flawless existence. All she had to do was swim. She just had to escape the evil ropes holding her from this brilliance and swim. So she did. Annabeth swam, and swam, the gorgeous image getting clearer and clearer as she came closer to it. The melodic voices became more noticeable, more soothing. As soon as she swam to shore, the dream world would be hers forever. Annabeth could live in this perfection for the rest of her days. Then, suddenly, a hand grabbed her ankle. A shock went through her body, interrupting her fantasy world. Were those vultures sitting there in place of Luke and her parents? It couldn't have been those hideous creatures sitting there. The setting couldn't truly have been the horrible place she now saw. Her parents and Luke were sitting right there. They were sitting right there in the beautiful city she had designed. This was not it. Before she could figure out how the voices had stopped and the images disappeared, and come back just as quickly, the cold water rose over her head. Her ankle was being pulled at by the same hand that had gotten hold of her earlier. She threw her arms and legs about wildly, screaming in protest the whole time. Why was he doing this? Hands gripped her waist tightly. He seemed to be preparing for something. Between this realization, the ice cold, salty water, and the thought that she wouldn't see the lovely scene with her parents and Luke again, Annabeth felt like throwing up. Then, they rapidly shot down through the water. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe with every second under the waves. It was also made clear that she would not be seeing the splendid scene any time soon. Annabeth coughed violently as a reaction to the underwater torture she was being put through. She couldn't handle this much longer. Without warning, millions of tiny bubbles zoomed toward her and the owner of the hands—Percy. He formed a giant air bubble around the pair, leaving only the boy's legs to dangle out the bottom. Hers were tucked up against her chest to keep herself as small as possible. Maybe she could just be erased from this picture and reappear in the fantasy land she had been shown minutes ago. She couldn't be. There was only one thing left to do after this: cry. It was her only option. Slowly, the blond head of hair sank down to her friend's shoulder. She sobbed uncontrollably, letting out every ounce of the ache of the dream being ripped away from her so suddenly. A variety of fish swam past the two curiously. Percy shooed them away as Annabeth bawled on. The boy held onto her through it. When she settled down, he told Annabeth that he'd get them back to the ship. She nodded in reply, feeling a thousand times better with the comfort of her friend's touch.
His sweaty hand was locked into hers. The other of his shaking hands was placed awkwardly on her hip. He moved in a total Percy fashion, stepping on her toes and moving with a certain uncomfortable way. Annabeth would have laughed at him. She would have gone on about his terrible lack of dancing skills. She would have asked him how exactly he walks being this clumsy. She refrained. It was more than simple politeness. She wasn't just trying to be a good friend to Percy. There was also something on her mind. Something important hung in the back of her head, taunting her. San Francisco haunted her thoughts. She wanted to spit just thinking about the dreaded place. No reasonable parent of a half-blood would send their child there. Of all places, her dad wants to move to that Californian city. Of course he does. Annabeth couldn't imagine a less considerate father (mortal, that is; she could think of plenty immortal fathers she wouldn't be pleased with having). Fredrick Chase seemed to take pleasure in making his daughter's life as difficult as possible. Somehow, this stumbling dance turned into an escape to a fairytale land. It shouldn't have because Percy was anything but a prince, his dancing anything but perfect and smooth (hers wasn't much better), and their situation was certainly not the best. But it did. It became the greatest fairytale of all, with no worries. Not a single thing could go wrong right now, even though, in reality, everything could go wrong. For all she knows, either or both of them could be dead within five minutes. That doesn't matter now. It's been lost in the awkward dance that had become the most wonderful thing she had known. The moment was carefree. It was almost as if all the monsters had vanished, as if there were no Titans. It seemed as if the only thing in the world was this. If Annabeth had a choice, she would have kept it like this.
Invisibly, she tackled the idiot to the ground behind the largest cauldron she's ever seen and clamped her transparent hand over his mouth that he couldn't keep shut. She was surprised he'd been that stupid. She had thought it impossible to be that careless. She hisses a warning and takes off her cap, appearing once more. Quietly, the two had a rushed conversation behind the large bronze cauldron. They could barely make out the words of the telekhines, but they understood enough. It wasn't safe there. They saw the monsters working carefully at their weapons. Every piece of sense Annabeth had left from spending so much time with Percy shouted for them to flee. They had their information. Wasting time by staying there was anything but smart. Soon, they would be caught. The two whispered some more. Then, the telekhines were there, frantically debating on which direction to go. And Percy spoke again. He wanted her to go on her own. Percy told her to leave and tell Hephaestus. He was supposedly going to handle the monsters. Annabeth's first thought was that even Percy (who didn't think to shut up when their lives depended on their ability to stay hidden) couldn't be that clueless. He couldn't possible believe that he would survive. There was no way he could believe that he would defeat all of these monsters. Yet, he insisted. She reluctantly gave in to his plan. (Hopefully it would work.) And without thinking, she kissed him. (Demigods did tend to be impulsive.) For the second it lasted, Annabeth felt indescribably amazing. Just the moment her lips brushed across his, she felt a sudden warmth and confidence. The second the undoable action had been done, she felt as if they might have a chance. The strength she was left with might be enough. With only a quick wishing of luck, she vanished. Using this feeling of the kiss, things were okay.
A minute of holding hands tightly, holding her when she needed to be held, dancing clumsily without any regard to the music, an embarrassed brush of lips helped her make it through. With the assurance that someone was there made her feel that nothing could break her. She was suddenly sure of everything. Those little seconds of reassurance were the most beautiful.
AN: My longest yet. And I'm actually pretty pleased with it, believe it or not. I certainly don't. For anyone that might have noticed things being different from the books, I felt I had the right to change it a little. (For example, in the second part, Annabeth's legs were tucked in, but in the book they ung out of the air bubble.) I didn't change major things, but I felt it wouldn't be nearly as good if I didn't change tiny things. I hate the fourth part. I just don't like the re-writings of that scene. It seems so perfect on its own, hardly anyone can do it justice. I've seen about one or two fics that can pull it off. I am nt one of them. It seems way to romantic to me. I can't write that kind of stuff at all. It was originally a friendship thing, but as they get older it's a lot harder to do, especially with certain events. So. Hopefully, it's not too terrible. As I said, I mostly like it. But, it was one of those 2 AM things. Then again, that might be my best time to write. I don't know. That's it for the moment.
-Lexi