IX. PERCY

Percy had never been great at sitting still, but tonight was different.

The gentle rocking of the boat beneath him. The stars overhead. The rhythmic lapping of waves against the hull. Everything was just perfect.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone out to sea on a boat, just enjoying the ocean and skies above. It felt peaceful. There was a sort of calm all around, like nothing could hurt him here.

He leaned back against the side of the boat, one knee pulled up to his chest while his other leg dangled over the edge of the deck. The night was unusually clear, making the stars seem almost close enough to touch. Percy stretched out his hand toward the sky in a halfhearted attempt to grab at a particularly bright one, then let his arm drop with a sigh.

Behind him, the cabin door was closed. Reyna was finally asleep after what felt like hours of argument. When he'd woken up from his power nap, she'd insisted that she wasn't tired, even though his 'nap' had lasted almost nine hours. He'd only managed to convince her to rest by reminding her that he was a son of Neptune, and they were literally in the ocean.

It had taken another fifteen minutes of back-and-forth before Reyna had relented, and Percy suspected it was only because she physically couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. She's stubborn, he though with a smile. Just like Annabeth. Better make sure she's actually gone to sleep.

Percy found himself tiptoeing to the cabin door, gently easing it open just enough to peek inside. In the soft glow of the night light, Reyna's features had softened, the perpetual furrow between her brows finally smoothed away, making her look years younger and oddly vulnerable.

Percy quietly tiptoed back on deck, sitting against the gunwale, trying to think of something to do. He idly tossed a denarius up and down in his palm.

It had been a while since he'd last tried to contact anyone from Camp Half-Blood. Iris-messages rarely connected these days, for some reason. Only his mom always picked up his calls. Grover and Tyson usually picked up. So did the Stolls, Thalia (once) and even Clarisse. Only Annabeth had steadily refused to pick his calls— to the point that Percy had stopped trying two weeks ago, because he was running out of change.

But tonight, something made him to try.

The moon was bright enough to create a faint rainbow in the mist of the ocean spray. Percy flipped the coin through the colorful haze before he could think better of it.

"O Iris, goddess of the rainbow," he whispered, not wanting to wake Reyna, "show me Annabeth Chase."
The mist shimmered, and for a moment, Percy prepared himself for the usual disappointment—the rainbow dissolving, the drachma falling into the ocean below.

But then the mist thickened, colors swirling, and suddenly, there she was.

Annabeth looked exactly as he remembered and completely different at the same time. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, pencil tucked behind her ear, surrounded by what looked like dozens of architectural drawings. She was leaning over a desk, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Annabeth?" Percy's voice came out quieter than he intended, almost swept away by the ocean breeze.
She jumped, her head snapping up, gray eyes widening as they locked onto his. "Percy? Seaweed Brain, is that really you?"

The nickname hit him like a physical blow, simultaneously warming and breaking his heart. "Yeah, it's me."

"Gods, do you have any idea what time it is?"
Percy glanced at his watch. "Uh, just past midnight on the East Coast? Sorry, I didn't think—"
"No, it's okay," she said quickly. "I wasn't sleeping anyway. Too much work." She gestured at the papers around her, then looked at him more carefully. "You're on a boat."
"Yeah."
"In the middle of the night."
"Yep."
"Cool. Cool."

Then an awkward silence. The last time they'd spoken face-to-face had been… painful. Finding out that Annabeth had taken her mother's offer had felt like having the sky dropped on him all over again. Except this time, no one was coming to help Percy bear the weight.

"So," he said, clearing his throat, "you're redesigning Olympus? How's that going?"
Annabeth's expression brightened. "It's amazing, Percy. Challenging and frustrating at times but it's completely wonderful. I've just finished the plans for Apollo's temple—you should see it. The way the light will stream through the columns at sunrise… it's going to be spectacular."

As she continued talking about her work, Percy found himself smiling despite the ache in his chest. Her passion had always been one of the things he loved most about Annabeth. The way her eyes lit up when she talked about some obscure arch design Percy had never heard of, the animated movements of her hands as she described some random canal erected by a bunch of dudes five hundred years ago. Priceless.

"What about you?" she asked eventually. "Where are you?"
Percy hesitated. "In the ocean. Part of the quest."
"Alone?"
The question hung in the air between them. Percy's gaze involuntarily flicked toward the cabin where Reyna slept, then back to Annabeth.
"No," he admitted. "I've got… help."

Annabeth nodded slowly, a flicker of something—understanding? resignation?—crossing her face.

"Percy," she said softly, "about what happened… "
The bruise on his heart throbbed. "You don't have to explain."
"I think I do," she countered. She set down her pencil and moved closer to the Iris-message, as if trying to bridge the distance between them. "I know you thought I would wait. I thought I would too. But the months kept passing, and no one knew where you were or if you were even—" Her voice caught. "If you were even alive."

Percy nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.
"My mother was… persistent," Annabeth continued. "You know how she feels about you."
"Yeah. She's president of the I-Hate-Percy-Jackson club," he said, surprised by how bitter he sounded. Annabeth chuckled.
"She made arguments. Logical, rational arguments about how relationships are distractions and how I had the chance to create something eternal. Something that would outlast… us."

"And she convinced you."

Annabeth looked down, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on her desk. "She gave me an ultimatum, Percy. Take the oath or lose the opportunity entirely. And I just… I didn't know if you were coming back. And after Luke. And Thalia. I couldn't bear it, Percy. I just had to choose."

The words hung between them, honest and painful.

"I understand," Percy said, surprised to find that he partially meant it. "I mean, I'm not saying it didn't hurt. It did. It still does. But I get it, Annabeth. You had to make a choice."
"And you think I made the wrong one," she replied.

Percy stared at the reflection of stars in the dark water below. For months, he'd replayed that moment in his head—the moment Grover had told him about Annabeth's oath. In his darkest thoughts, he'd blamed her, resented her for giving up on them so easily. But now, looking at her tired eyes and the frazzled hair, he couldn't find it in him to be mad at her.

"I think you made the only choice you could with the information you had," he finally said. "And I think you're going to build the most amazing version of Olympus the gods have ever seen."
A tear slipped down Annabeth's cheek, catching the lamplight like a fallen star. "That's so sweet, Percy. Can you—" she choked. "Can you actually forgive me?"

Percy felt something shift inside him, like a tide changing direction. People changed. Circumstances changed. He didn't like it, but that was the way of life.

"I already have," he told Annabeth, and was surprised by how true the words felt.

Her smile was soft and a little sad. "When are you coming back to camp?"
"When I've finished helping the people who need me here," he replied. "I can't just leave in the middle of things."
"That's so you," she said fondly. "Always the hero."
Percy felt his face heat up. "I just do what needs to be done."

"And that's why I'll always be proud of you, Seaweed Brain." Her expression grew serious. "Even if we're not… what we were, I'm still your friend. I'll always have your back."
"Same here, Wise Girl," Percy said. The nickname no longer felt like salt in a wound. "You need help with anything, giant spiders or whatever, I'm there."

She laughed, a genuine sound that made him smile in response.

"I should let you get back to your watch."
"And you should probably sleep at some point," Percy retorted. "Those blueprints will still be there tomorrow."
"Since when did you become the responsible one?" Annabeth teased.
"I've undergone a character development arc," Percy deadpanned, earning another laugh.
"Goodnight, Percy. Stay safe."
"Goodnight, Annabeth. I'll see you around."

As the Iris-message faded, Percy leaned back against the boat's railing and looked up at the stars again. The hollow feeling in his chest that had been his constant companion for months felt different now—not gone, but changed. Like a scar that was slowly closing in.

Percy wasn't ready for anything new. Not yet. But for the first time since arriving at Camp Jupiter, he felt like he might be someday.