His Return

22. Applying Pressure

Chapter 22: Applying Pressure

NYC, DARIEN, U.S.A
Sally Jackson's Abode
An Hour Following

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Annabeth didn't know what to say.

She didn't know what to do, she didn't know how to react, and she definitely didn't know how to feel about the situation at hand.

Because against her initial thoughts, it wasn't Piper that'd sounded the horn outside.

It'd shocked her, to say the least, but some part of her expected it, though ideally, it wouldn't happen right at this very moment. Preferably when the war was over— if she indeed made it out in one piece and alive, where she could get less of an anger driven response out of him.

It wasn't that she didn't trust that he'd be happy, because honestly, they'd talked about this in the past. It was an important part of Annabeth's desire to make everything in her life perfect and planned, and at the time, he didn't have a problem with that.

What scared her was the way he was looking at her right now.

He was completely dry, despite the harsh weather he stood in— which he was undoubtedly responsible for. His jaw was clenched and his nostrils were slightly flared. 

From where Annabeth was standing— just outside the frame of the front door, droplets of rain could touch her skin and for some reason they physically burned, leaving tiny red marks peppered along the length of her forearms, and her blood began to run cold. It was like every molecule of liquid in the air was enraged, and it's anger was all channeled towards her.

Annabeth's heart jumped when he started to walk, stopping just in front of her, their chests grazing against each other. Percy looked down at her, wordless, and breathing suddenly became a much more difficult task for Annabeth to undertake.

Her pulse quickened drastically, half expecting him to shout, but he never did, though nothing about his face screamed 'amiable' or 'reassuring.' She'd known him long enough to know that he was infuriated, but he had enough control over himself to not let his emotions take over. It was there, however— burning just below the surface, and Annabeth knew that if she pushed him too far he would erupt.

She wasn't stupid, and she knew that he wasn't either, but that didn't mean that she would just blatantly admit to anything without having knowledge of his purpose for being there. Realistically speaking, who was to say that he wasn't there for another reason— perhaps to personally take her back to camp, no strings attached.

It was an idiotic thought to think, but one that she dearly hoped was her reality.

All Annabeth wanted was some more time— enough to get herself ready before they ended up butting heads.

The Percy Jackson that she knew would never hurt her, but after nearly a decade in the pit, Annabeth wasn't sure that this was still the case. He was more vengeful than he was before, and that was to be expected. She'd seen with her own eyes what he'd done to Arachne and Akhyls, and that'd only been a few days following their drop into Tartarus. Staying there for years meant that unspeakable things had to be done to survive, and as long as Percy's shoulder remained cold to her and the camp, she would never know.

"Hey, mom—"

Percy looked behind her to see the frame of a small person standing just barely outside the front door, and the storm suddenly came to an abrupt stop. This child raven hair disheveled and from the short distance Percy could make out his bright and beautiful irises; a mix of silver and sea green, that were filled with knowledge, even from his young age. The child's facial features reminded Percy a lot of himself when he was much younger, and if there was even the slightest smudge of doubt in his mind before, in that moment Percy had never been more certain of anything in his life.