Entangled [A Percico/Pernico Fanfiction] ✳️

31 [Dearest Past Self]

"I'm fine," Annabeth felt herself repeat. She wasn't really; her body was in a never ending cycle of dull and sharp pains, her heart felt like it had been put through a shredder, Percy was pulling a Sally, and a camper was essentially telling her that her mind was a mess of PTSD. They also couldn't offer her any more pain meds- so she was present through the entire ordeal (which was just great).

Percy had finally left the room, he had been there for two days. He stayed at her bedside, just as he did when she got stabbed, and neglected Nico. One would think Annabeth would have liked having her ex's attention, especially after she essentially tried to baby-trap him. But seeing Nico trying to be supportive while obviously being crushed by Percy's loyalty to everyone but him at the moment didn't make Annabeth feel good. It made her want more pain meds or something strong to drown out the feelings of guilt. Logically it wasn't her fault... kind of.

Looking back, a lapse in judgement or some sick way to keep Percy close, Annabeth was a different person when she cheated. She honestly didn't know what she was doing anymore. The war was over, they had won, and then Percy started to drift.

Some left over desperation made Annabeth cling to someone who she knew felt the same. After all, Percy was drifting toward Nico. Who better than Will could she use to drown her sorrows? She could see him drift to her again. It made her sick and confused her. After all she had cried and begged for him to kiss her not even a week before– so what changed? Why was she suddenly disgusted by herself?

Back to the present, Annabeth decided if she ever found a way to go back in time, she would have forced her past self in therapy. Which, coincidentally, was what she was being forced to do now. Forced wasn't the exact word she was looking for, but there wasn't really a word she could think of to describe the love-hate relationship she had with the camper.

The camper chased Percy out, sprouting every excuse she could consider valid. It earned Misha, the therapist, some small love in Annabeth's book. She fought for her, it was nice. Even if Percy meant well he was getting overbearing.

"So Annabeth, I've been with you for a few sessions. During which you've never spoken about what happened, do you wish to share?"

Ah yes, there's the hatred. She had nearly forgotten about hate!

"What happened..?" It was a loaded question. Where is she even expected to begin? How can the small notepad that Misha carried in even hold the capacity of her mess-ups? Should she even try and list them, they had landed her here after all.

"Sorry I should have clarified, what led you to here today?"

"Well," Annabeth said dryly, "I cheated on the one guy who stuck with me through thick in thin, got knocked up, then had an abortion because the father decided to become a rapist and traumatized my ex's new boyfriend, and then I nearly died a dozen from complications." Saying it out loud made her feel worse. She wasn't sure if Misha knew that or if she just couldn't write everything down fast enough.

"Okay, I see there are a lot of events that have happened. Since you can sit up on your own and move your arms without pain, I want you to write that down in a letter. Write to your past self, come to peace with what happened."

And with that she left. It was strange, as Misha still technically had 20 minutes left with her. Then again, that was 20 minutes without Percy and Misha had dropped off a pen and paper. As stupid as it might be, there was no harm in processing everything. Plus, this was the first task she's been given in days. The rest of the doctors are too afraid to touch her.

With a deep breath, she picked up the pen.

Dearest past self,
You fucked up.