Now things are picking up. I finally actually have more time to write and I'm loving it.

Chapter 17

"We should call the police."

Percy was sitting on one of her modern design stools. Watching with concern as she fluttered around her kitchen in a state Annabeth would describe as 'orchestrated swiftness'. In Percy's eyes it was borderline panic.

Grabbing him water with ice in it. Grabbing him pain meds and the first aid kit. A dish towel. A pair of scissors. Loose ice. A turkey baster. He was pretty sure that last one was an accident.

"No," Annabeth seethed. Dumping her collection of things onto the island counter, flustered. "No police. I'm done with those asswipes."

"Why?" Percy tugged at the sleeve of his shirt. Widening the tear the bullet made so he could get better access to his wound. "What happened in that police interview?"

Annabeth stalled, her eyes hardening. "Doesn't matter."

"But-"

"I said it doesn't matter!" Scoffing, she grabbed a pair of scissors. "Seaweed brain. Is your head made of rocks? Were you dropped on your skull as a baby?"

"Okay… Something definitely happened in that interview," Percy persisted quietly.

"ENOUGH!" she slammed down the scissors, cracking them against the marble countertop. "It. Doesn't. Matter."

Percy stiffened. Eyes locked on her. Wondering if he did that wrong. Talking that is. As the pregnant pause hung in the air, he saw her gaze flicker towards him, embarrassed.

Breathing in a big gulp of air to steady her shaking limbs, she lowered her head. Half in shame, half to hide her eyes. "Could you stop?"

She didn't want to be looked at, she didn't want to be touched. So instead, Percy reached out and tugged once on the end of her shirt. Garnering her attention, and locking gazes with her sorrow deepened eyes.

"Okay," Percy assured gently. "I won't ask what happened. I just want it to be acknowledged that something did happen in that police interview. Something that scared you."

Annabeth clenched her jaw to hide the tremors. Fisting her hands for the same reason. In despair, her eyes welled and she pursed her lips. "Fine… sure. I acknowledge it."

This feeling, what was it? Like water in his lungs but heavier, like his heart was in a straight jacket, like his sternum was sinking deep into the cavities of his chest.

"If you do want to tell me," Percy offered quietly. "I could help."

A jolt went down his spine when she snapped up the scissors again. Venom in her eyes, she zeroed in on his shirt and started snipping it away at the cuff on his wrist.

"You shouldn't be in this. Piper shouldn't be in this."

"Is that why you encouraged her to leave with Jason?"

Annabeth was silent. Slowly exposing his arm one snip at a time to get better access to the wound.

"You're going to try and get me to leave. Aren't you?"

Snip. snip. Snip.

"Annabeth?"

"When a bomb is about to go off, you evacuate the area." She said in a monotone, "So yes. I think you should leave."

Don't argue. Percy held himself back. One can not fight the tides of the ocean.

Instead he sat there silently. Acting as if he were considering it. Holding back the winces as she dabbed away the scabs with alcohol. In silence she bandaged his arm. Her eyebrows furrowed adorably, her mouth twisted in concentration, and her eyes full of guilt. In her mind, she had caused that wound on him, he was sure of it.

"Now no sudden movements," she instructed seriously. "And no lifting any heavy things."

Percy examined the neat wrap of stark white medical tape around his bicep. "You're good. I should come to you every time I'm cut up."

Annabeth snorted a bit bitterly. Still angry. "Get cut up a lot you klutz?"

Percy sought out her eyes then lifted the edges of his shirt.

"Percy!" she gasped. Scandalized.

But it was too late, it was off. His recent wounds, still pink and puckered, were hers to see. His history of white scars that criss crossed across his back and down his pecs and abs stood out in the stale light of her kitchen. Even the little concave bubbles on his shoulders and side where bullets had entered and gone were glaringly visible.

Annabeth's face was strained, washed in a sickly pale as she tried to process what she was seeing.

"Percy?" She said shakily. Her eyes roamed over his stitches on his chest. The black wiry thread was so potent against his flushed skin it looked like pockets of disease.

Percy rose to his feet. For the first time in a long time he was struck by their height difference. The way her eyes had to lift upwards to stare at him with a wide shifting gaze. Tenderly, he plucked up her hand and placed it against the center of his chest. Right over the largest, and angriest slashes.

Her skin against him made his heart pound.

"You think I'm going to run away just because of a scratch? I'm pretty used to getting beat up, Wisegirl."

"You..." She didn't have the words. She shook her head, making her curls bounce and roll with the movement. Then her eyes trailed down again to him. His scars, his wounds, his bruises and his cuts. Stories he had never told her.

Percy steadied his breathing as she started to explore. Absentmindedly running her fingertips over every new mark that caught her eye. Thinking, thinking, thinking, she worked down his chest. Examining every curve of his muscles, every line shining white, every pockmark and burn-scaled patch.

"My job." he finally found his voice. Why was his face so warm? "It's physically demanding."

She ducked under his arm and gasped at his back. The wounds he got when running away from things. The stretch of tendons under his skin were slightly obscured by the layers of knotted flesh in various degrees of healing.

Annabeth's hands paused right against the small of his back. "Are you… are you in some awful secret fight ring in the FBI or something?"

Percy scoffed a laugh. "If I was in the FBI I'd have your ex by his neck already."

Annabeth was silent. Thoughtful perhaps. But when her hands pressed against his back, and she rested her forehead on his shoulder, his entire body went rigid. There was a sadness in her touch.

"If you were FBI," she muttered mournfully. "I'd be in prison already."

A flinch rolled through his heart. It wasn't her words, it was her voice. How deeply she believed that he would lock her up if he knew those secrets she was guarding. Sensing his sudden unease, she pulled away.

"So what is your job?"

"Security," Percy decided. "I guard something."

"Like a place? Or something expensive?"

"Something precious." He caught her eye over his shoulder. "Something worth getting beat up for at least."

She clucked her tongue. "Some dumb rich guy has you guarding his ancient artifacts, hasn't he."

"Trust me, what I'm guarding isn't ancient, and is more matter-of-fact than artifact."

"Sounds… obscure," she said slowly. Unconscious of the fact that she was still circling him, pacing like a caged leopard. Drinking in the remnants of pain inscribed on his body.

"I'm used to staying alert all night," Percy said. Casting his eyes away from her to hide his growing blush. "If you want, I could stay down here tonight. Keep an eye out for trouble."

Annabeth considered this. Nibbling on her lip now, her eyes turned to the window. "Do you have a gun?"

Percy retrieved his trusty weapon from the living room where he'd sprawled his coat. The tear in its shoulder glared back at him.

You shouldn't be showing her this. The instrument of her almost. The darkest part of my life?

It felt illegal. She was untouched by his sins, she was separate from all his deeds. It felt wrong to let her take the handle from his fingertips, to allow it to be in her hands.

"How do you fire it?" she asked. Unworking the little device with her eyes. Testing the safety on the side, examining the barrel, the grip. Placing her finger on the trigger. "Properly I mean. It's a pretty straightforward thing."

Percy plucked it from her grasp. Feeling a little breathless, a little raw. Carefully he emptied the magazine of the gun, then the chamber. To be safe, he cocked it and pulled the trigger. An empty click resonated back at him.

"Here-" he set it in her hands again. Lining up her fingers and palms. One on the handle, one on the butt. "This is the safety. Clicked in, on. Clicked out, off. Muzzle, barrel, slide, trigger, trigger guard, grip, magazine, hammer, rear sight. Got that?"

He pointed to each thing in rapid order but Annabeth still nodded. A stern focus in her eyes as if she thought this was important.

"Magazine release is here by the grip. Now, see the slide? Pull it back until you hear a click."

She did, then settled her hands just the way he'd placed them before. Looking at him expectantly and in such a way that he could feel his heart beat in his neck.

"Now-" He cleared his throat. "-Take aim at something."

Her kitchen light was apparently her first target. Softly, Percy chuckled and positioned himself behind her. Wrapping his hands forward to reposition her arms, he could feel every inch of her warmth radiating back at him.

"No, no. Don't lock your elbows like that, a little bend to prepare to take the recoil see? If you keep them locked, the pressure will go right to your shoulders. And your stance, don't stand with your feet together. Dominant foot out, spacing between feet as roughly the same width as your shoulders- perfect."

Annabeth pressed the trigger. The click rocked back at them and he was able to catch her smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Not gleeful or powerful, but grim.

"Do you need to stand so close to instruct?" Annabeth shot him a quick glance out of the side of her eye. "The least you could do is give me the courtesy of putting a shirt on."

Percy smirked at her. "Distracting, am I?"

"Shut up."

Jitters wound their way down his esophagus. She wasn't denying anything. Somehow his teases came back to bite him when she didn't deny anything. Because she was more open about her feelings, and he was trapped by his.

A jingle danced through the air just then. On instinct, Percy reached for his pocket forgetting that he left his phone at home. Annabeth reached for hers and stepped in the direction of the hall.

"This is probably Piper. She'll be at the airport about to take off and feeling guilty for it."

"Mmmh," Percy smiled at her. "Feel free to tell her that I'm at your house… shirtless."

Annabeth scowled at him. "You're evil."

"Are you just realizing that?"

He tried not to eavesdrop. Instead, he busied himself with cutting off the sleeves of his black long sleeved shirt. Effectively fitting himself with the world's ugliest black t-shirt.

When Annabeth returned, he held his arms out. "Well? Does it work?"

Her gaze was far away. Her face was slick and ghostly. Percy's mirth instantly died on his tongue and he took two steps closer to her. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Annabeth stared at him blankly. Wordless for one minute before she shook her head. "You should head home. It's getting late."

"Wisegirl-"

"Go home Percy."

"But-"

"GO HOME!" She broke. Tense, she scooped his gun up off the counter and slammed it into his chest, winding him.

For a moment, he stood there searching her eyes. Watching the anger swarm her grey pupils and harden her expression. It must've been the way he was looking back at her because the wall of fury behind her gaze broke for a moment. In vain she tried to hide it by turning her back to him.

"Just go," she said evenly. "I don't want you here."

Does she know? Does she know? Does she know?

"Annabeth-"

"Leave," she hissed. "Leave or I call the police."

Fear.

There was a tremble in her shoulders, in her hands too. Even though her fists were pressed into the marble countertop before her, he could still make out the slight shivers she was trying to tame.

Everything about this told him to stay.

But the Ocean goes where it pleases. All dams, all bridges, all barriers fall to her eventually.

In a daze, he got his coat from the living room sofa and gently closed the door behind him.

Does she know?

Outside, the wind had picked up. Throwing his hair around, tugging at his coat still stuffed under his arm, nipping at the back of his throat as he took another deep steady breath.

No.

If she knew, she'd yell it at his face. She'd confront him. Annabeth wasn't afraid to make waves, she wasn't afraid of proclaiming even the hardest of truths. So what was that phone call about? Why did she need him gone so suddenly?

Her white fury. It was so raw, bubbling at her surface like the foam on a shoreline. But he knew she always used anger as a tool to hide. That phone call didn't just scare her, it terrified her. Something was coming, or someone.

From inside he could hear her fumbling about. Cursing over and over. Telling herself to calm the fuck down. The jingle of keys made his ear twitch.

Percy turned to her car still parked in her driveway.

.:oOo:.

His intuition wasn't always right, but he nailed it on the head this time. From the trunk of Annabeth's car, he could hear her panicked breathing. The way she was murmuring comforting things to herself as she tried to force herself not to cry.

It was a bumpy ride, she wasn't focused on the road. Percy had to brace himself against the sides more than once.

He waited three minutes after she locked the parked car. Once all was quiet, he grabbed the black strap facing the car cabin and yanked until it clicked. One of the back three seats folded forwards, and dim light spilled into the trunk. The squeeze was a bit tight, but he managed to wiggle free and popped the car door open.

The stark smell of gasoline, rubber, and stale air hit him. Parking garages all smell the same. Pale lights lined the pipe maze ceiling, illuminating the empty expanse of dark concrete, grease stains, and yellow parking lines. Annabeth's footsteps were in the distance. Nimbly, he followed her to the stairwell. At the top, he watched her cross the lobby through the crack in the door.

It was well past working hours. Only two janitors were mopping the marble floors. One was scratching his head, holding a ladder and a lightbulb and staring up at the mess of glass and crystal that was a chandelier. Between the rich height of the room, and the vast array of waiting areas of clean leather couches and crystal coffee tables, Percy reckoned the owner must've been wealthy. And it all clicked for him.

Annabeth threw a quick wave to the security officer behind the main desk. His feet were up, a paper was splayed in front of his nose, he barely registered her as she slipped by the turnstile.

Shaking, she hit the up button for the elevator, it glowed a warm yellow. When the pleasant ding announcing the elevator's arrival bounced in the air, she jumped in her skin. Disappearing into its gaping entrance a moment later.

Percy's heart was in his head. Pulsing against his temples and banging against his ears. With a knot of desperation he crept out the door and slunk against the floor. Scrambling under the sight of the main desk, under the turnstiles. He threw himself at the elevator and only just managed to slip inside before the doors clanked closed.

Inside, their eyes locked. Her posture, already rigid and tense, somehow stiffened even more in alarm. Paling all the whiter as they stared at each other in silence.

"The fuck…" Annabeth started on the tail end of a breath. In terror, her eyes skittered over his body again as if she could be hallucinating. On the realization that he was real, her lashes fluttered in disbelief. "What. What are you fucking doing here?! Percy!"

Percy grabbed her arm. Drawing her into him. "Keeping you from doing something stupid."

"HE'LL KILL YOU!"

"He can try."

"Percy!" Annabeth's eyes shined. "You don't know a single fucking thing about him!"

"I know that he's somehow threatened you into coming here." Percy said evenly. "And he'll kill you tonight unless someone stops him."

Annabeth gripped his arms back. Such a deep panging torment in her eyes that Percy couldn't help but feel guilty. "You need to go home. You need to let him do what he wants."

"But-"

"Percy. Percy, please. He has someone following Piper. If I don't… If I don't then he'll-"

"I'll fix this."

"You can't." She shook him lightly. Close to tears. "I've thought of everything. There's no way I can get out."

"Because this is a trap designed for you." Percy pointed out with conviction. "You need help in order to get out of it."

Before Annabeth could rebuff what he was saying, the hum of the elevator lulled. The feeling of movement gradually pulled to a stop. Top floor, the private office, came into view slowly as the elevator doors parted.

Annabeth's expression numbed, her eyes drained from any life or fire. She stood in silence as Percy examined the floor to window ceilings, the two story bookshelves packed with ancient spines of limited edition books, the enormous oak desk that stood in the middle of it all like a self proclaimed throne.

"I see you brought a friend." Mr. BigMoney swiveled around in his chair, pure villain style. Percy half expected him to be holding a cat. But alas, only his movements betrayed his heart. Percy was disgusted by his handsome face and full crop of sleek blonde hair combed to the side. His only comfort was his oddly shaped head. Too long.

"I didn't bring him." Annabeth's voice was empty, monotone. "He followed me."

"Yes, I saw." twisted his laptop in a circle. Showcasing his surveillance feed. "Hiding in the trunk, how rude."

Percy didn't say anything as he stepped off the elevator. If this man recognized his voice, the whole game was up. He resolved to speak as little as possible through whatever exchange they were about to have.

"Well collateral damage has never bothered me." Mr. BigMoney rose to his feet. Examining Percy from the bottom up, then top down. A sinister glint in his eyes. "Plus I've heard about you. A clingy cock who doesn't give Annabeth an ounce of alone time."

"Just let him leave," Annabeth said tensely. "He won't say anything."

"I'll be the judge of that." Mr. BigMoney said. A twist of sour in his voice. "What's your name? Or should I just call you leech."

Percy bristled. Kill him, kill him, KILL HIM was suddenly chanting in his head. It was the same visceral reaction a person gets to spotting a cockroach. The way you suddenly reach for a shoe without thinking twice because the being before you was far too vile to share an environment with.

But what hold did he have on Annabeth? If he smashed his stupid eggplant head against the edge of his fancy desk, how would it affect Annabeth?

Water. Calm, cool water.

"James Morrison," Percy said quietly. Keeping his eyes level with her ex-fiance. "Quite frankly I don't know your name either. Annabeth only ever refers to you as her 'ex'."

Mr. BigMoney lifted his eyebrows. Bemused. "You care about her, don't you. Clearly that's why you're here."

Percy didn't say anything. His headspace was shrouding him in that sharp calmness. Already, he had six ways he could kill this man with his hands alone. Fourteen with any of the supplies he'd spotted in the office.

"I'd say she cares about you too. Just look at the face she's making." Mr. BigMoney rounded around the front of his desk. Beaming at Annabeth like she was a gold star among a sea of silver fish. Gingerly, he leaned against the lip of his desk, and pointed to the space beside him.

Like a robot, Annabeth marched forward. Presenting herself to him, it looked like. Percy had to clench his jaw to keep the boiling emotions away. His fingers itched for his gun.

Water. Cold, clear, calm. Water.

"This complicates things. You know that," he said softly. "I had a plan for you, not for him. If I need to make a few extra phone calls-"

"Let him go." Annabeth sputtered. Her spine was perfectly straight, her fists were clenched at her sides. "Whatever you want from me, I'll give it to you. Just let him go."

A salacious grin split his cheeks crookedly. "Well… there is something you wouldn't let me have while we were together."

Percy held his breath when Mr. BigMoney's slender little hand crept up to her thigh. The fire of hatred exploded internally as his little spider fingers ventured upwards, the hitch on Annabeth's breath, the flighty glance she threw him.

She was considering it to save him. He could see it in her eyes.

Percy pulled his gun. "Alright. That's enough. Let her go."

Mr. BigMoney's eyes flared. Desperately, he scurried to his feet with a flurry of movements. But he wasn't being clumsy about it, he was covering up his lunge for something on his desk. Too late, Percy realized. With a quiet shink and a gasp, Mr. BigMoney had the clean brass blade of a dagger pressed against Annabeth's neck. His arm was wrapped around her body, tightening him to her with his chin hooked over her shoulder. Eyeing him cautiously, but not without a slight smirk.

"You don't know what you're trying to save, do you?" he asked with a haughtiness that made Percy dig his heels in. "You don't know what Annabeth really is."

"Let her go and I won't bury a bullet in your brain," Percy seethed. He was losing his edge. He felt ragged, spiraling.

Water.

He needed to regain control.

"I know you don't have it in you Jack." Mr. BigMoney's smile widened.

Percy faltered. Not because of his words, but because of the look of confusion that flickered in Annabeth's eyes.

"That's right, I know who you are," he continued. Regripping the dagger at Annabeth's neck. "Jack Manderson. You were born in New York. Became a ward of the state at eleven when your druggie parents were arrested for possession of heroin. You had some scuffles in highschool. Got suspended three times but it looked like you shaped up after that. At twenty three you worked at a mechanic garage, then you moved around the country and even traveled internationally."

"You have a cop in that filthy police station don't you. Someone to mess with the things you want messed with."

"No use for beat cops." Mr. BigMoney wrinkled his nose. "Detectives on the other hand are useful. Very useful."

He liked to brag. He was a showboater and that was useful. Because he believed he had the upper hand, Percy could play this game, turn things in his favor. All he had to do was keep it together long enough to do so. However, if Annabeth kept silently staring at him with her big grey eyes like that, he may not make it.

"So is that all you learned about me? My past?"

"There's not a scratch on your record, except maybe some tax fraud. You caused some ruckuses when you were a kid, had a few warnings while a mechanic but that's it. You aren't a member at any shooting range or gym. Hell this is probably the first time you've held that damn device. So instead of accidentally shooting her, how about you just set it down. Okay Jack?"

Percy lifted his lip in disgust. "I'll take my chances."

"Oooh ho ho ho. She must be a fabulous actress if she's convinced you that she's worth sticking your neck out for her." Mr. BigMoney sunk his fingers into her side. "How about you tell him the truth about who you really are, huh honey?"

Annabeth bared her teeth. That telltale fire was in her eyes, but also the skittishness he saw when she chased him down the street. A girl who didn't run from her fears. "Like what?" she spat.

"Like how you brought in the fresh meat for my budding cocaine business while you were in highschool."

Annabeth's expression soured. "You made me do that."

"You wanted to do that."

"I was fourteen."

"And that's why people listened to you." Mr. BigMoney grinned at Percy. Pride shining through his eyes in a way that made Percy want to gouge them out and feed them to crows. "She was so sweet looking when she was fourteen, boys were just falling over themselves to do anything she asked. Cocaine or otherwise. I still have some of those guys in my crew. Loyal dealers and buyers."

Annabeth's eyes started to sparkle. She gritted her teeth and struggled against his hold. "I didn't force them to do anything."

"But teenage boys lead with their dicks and you gave them the impression you'd suck theirs if they tried a bit of your stash."

"Shut up." Annabeth clawed at his arm.

For being so wiry, he was fast. In two seconds, he slashed his blade down her collarbone and then had it back at her neck. Biting into her flesh harder this time, making it impossible to struggle. Red gushed out in a diagonal line and dribbled into her shirt. She muffled a cry by biting her lip.

Rage swelled in Percy's throat. He held his gun more rigid, more even. He wanted this twat to know that he was skilled with this weapon. That he could blow out his brains with one press of his finger.

But was seeing something else, Percy realized. Annabeth once described her ex as needing to be the most powerful man in the room, and with Percy holding a gun he was negating that.

So Mr. BigMoney was going to try and get under his skin until he broke. Using Annabeth whatever way he could.

"I don't blame them," he whispered close to her ear. But his eyes never left Percy, locked on him triumphantly as Annabeth struggled to keep still. "You know I'm just playing right? Watch him. Watch him give up on you when I make you tell him everything."

"Enough of your games," Annabeth gurgled against the tension of the knife. "You have me. Just make him leave and you can finally kill me."

But 's eyes were still centered on Percy. Fascinated, no doubt, by the way Percy's shoulders were quivering, how his eyes were focused and unfaltering, the way his arms rippled at any adjustment to the gun. If he could see the wave of anger growing, he wouldn't've been making such a smug expression, Percy thought.

"Naw," Mr. BigMoney said. "I like this. Tell him more. Tell him about Shellbrooke."

"ShellBrooke?" Percy blinked. Why did that name sound familiar?

"No-" Annabeth choked. A trickle of blood rolled down her neck and joined the flow by the cut on her collar.

Mr. BigMoney grit his teeth. The first burst of genuine anger rolled across his face as he tightened the blade to her neck. "Tell. Him."

"The fires." Annabeth croaked. Tears welled over her eyes. "The fire, I started the fire. I burnt down an entire neighbourhood."

"And?"

"And left thousands homeless."

"And?"

"And… and I did it on purpose." She was breaking. Struggling to get the words out. Pain screamed in her eyes. Helplessly, she stared at Percy. Waiting for a reaction that he wouldn't give her. Deep inside, his heart had stopped once and then puttered into a lightspeed pace.

"Now tell him about Caleb." Mr. BigMoney hissed. Angry this time. Vengeful.

Annabeth's mouth opened but nothing came out. In agony, she stared at Percy, unable to speak the things she was being forced to say until Percy nodded subtly.

It's okay.

"I… I…" Annabeth stammered. Mr. BigMoney prodded her. "I killed Caleb."

"Killed?"

"Murdered." She cried thickly. A sob welled up her throat. "I murdered Caleb Desosky."