Left Behind | Percabeth

Part III

WHEN THE DREADED DAY came, Annabeth had to force herself to not stay in bed and weep. She feared what seeing him would do to her, what fire of hatred it would light inside her. She hated, so fiercely, that he was going to leave her, and part of her wanted to punish him for it; she wanted to shut him out and cut him off, like he essentially did her—though she understood why he did. Still, a fire burned inside her, and it kept telling her to shut off her feelings towards him. Thus, his departure would not hurt her. If she had no one, at least she had no one to lose.

   All these thoughts aside, the notion of him leaving without her by his side to say goodbye hurt her more; the broken look he'd have in his eyes when he could not find his betrothed in a sea of grieving families. He'd hurt more than she could ever phantom, were she to let him leave alone. So she did show at the pier that morning, Estelle on her one arm, a small photo album clutched tightly into the other. Paul had been allowed to take off for the morning; bidding adieu to soldiers was seen as noble enough cause to take half a day off.

   Their train arrived, as Percy had said, at 10 a.m. On the station were so, so many people, that Annabeth thought her head would burst. So many people cried for loved ones, and loud sobs teared through the hall before the soldiers had even left the train to say goodbye to their loved ones. Estelle tried to hide in Annabeth's hair. That day, unlike most others, she'd worn it down, the way Percy liked it best. She had put on one of her prettiest dresses, a light blue one with a simple floral design. It went just below her knees, and Annabeth knew from experience that it was a skirt that was easy enough to hitch up; she'd planned this. Her coat went to just below her buttocks, and she knew, too, that Percy liked how it hugged her upper body, the same as her dress. Her shoes only brandished a small heel, so that she would be tethered to the ground.

   She was sure he saw her blonde hair, before she saw his, for his face was brandished with a smile like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. Annabeth didn't even think as she handed Estelle to Paul and rushed to her husband, jumping into his arms.

   'My love,' he said after a twirl, his arms feeling stronger and bigger than ever before as they engulfed her. She pulled away from the creek in his neck that her face was so used to, only to put her forehead against his and look into his eyes. His eyebrows creased slightly, and he lowered her back onto the ground; then, he slid a hand across the apple of her cheek, his finger glistening with a tear. It felt calloused in a way it never had, even when he had worked down at the docs for several years.

   His hand now planted on her cheek he spoke once more; 'I missed you so much.'

   She let out a croak of a sob. She wanted to tell him something, spill her guts about how much she had yearned for him, too, but no words fell from her. Her hand moved to hold his on her cheek.

   She closed her eyes, if only to enjoy the intimacy they shared; to bar out the rest of the world for a moment, but Paul broke her illusion when he placed a hand on her shoulder.

   'Son,' he said, his voice grave, and Percy turned his face from hers. He hugged his father and sister, though his hand never left its place in Annabeths. She felt that he was her tether to the world—she knew that she was his.

   When Percy took Estelle into his arms and she latched onto his hair like she so often did, Annabeth felt the want, the need, the yearning, in her stomach grow. She loved this man, and she would give the world to see him handle her children the same way he did Estelle.

   The little one giggled as he blabbered at her, cries of 'Pwurcy!' and 'Bad brother!' filling the air; filling Annabeths heart with such content she nearly moaned.

   The next thirty minutes went by in such haste, that Annabeth couldn't comprehend it. He had just gotten here, and already half of the time left, was gone. They spoke only briefly of his stay in Europe: partly because he knew little more than they did, partly because no one wanted to let the reality of the situation dawn on them completely. Though as the clock ticked down, and the end drew nearer, she knew she had to do something about her plans. She had not spoken to Paul beforehand, but she gave him pleading looks whenever Percy would look away, hoping to relay the message that she wanted him alone, if only for fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes was almost an eternity, in this setting.