pjo | 30 days of h/c

02. ash and smoke

tw: dissociation (?), panic attack, crying, aftermath of mt. st. helens

Annabeth knows, logically, that one does not blow up a volcano and expect no repercussions. She knows, logically, that there wouldn't be some kind of consequence for being exploded, to Hades knew where, leaving behind nothing but suffering families of thousands and a trail of destruction and a new monster, even more terrifying than anything she had yet to see, in its wake.

Still, Annabeth thought that maybe disappearing for two weeks, being gone and being nothing better than dead, worrying all of your loved ones and friends and family sick would've been enough. That, maybe, it wasn't too much to ask to Percy for come back at least relatively okay, at least with nothing more to worry about then some nightmares.

But when he crashes his own funeral, like the dumbass he is, looking apologetic and guilty as ever, smiling at her in a way that makes her chest flutter, something about him is off. She is relieved, more than anything, that he is alive and okay and well, and she's as content with that as she can be.

Until she realizes he's not.

When she hugs Percy, fierce and hard, and with everything she's got, she realizes that he is achingly skinny, and she takes a step back. His cheekbones are too prominent, his ribs almost visible, even through his shirt, and the whole left side of him is marked with burns and scars and angry mountains of rivets and dents, the look in his eyes is more haunted than before, and she finds that she is not prepared for how he's different.

It takes her awhile, but after a few weeks, she figures out that it's not just his appearance that's changed; he stops eating as much, stays up later, and wakes up earlier, he trains harder, and flinches more, his hands instinctively going to riptide with every slammed door, every dropped weapon. He's quieter, too, more withdrawn into himself, and he goes to the lake more, hides in his cabin as often as he goes to the arena, and she almost never sees him, now.

It scares her more than she's willing to admit.

It's almost midnight, now, and Annabeth's laying awake, staring at the little plastic stars that decorate the ceiling. She sleeps on the top bunk, and when she was younger, she used to take a sharpie and draw lines, connecting them to make constellations. She wished she were still young enough to do that; she wished she weren't plagued by thoughts of my best friend just came back from the dead after exploding a volcano and we're about to be in the middle of a war.

She squeezes her eyes shut before throwing off her blankets and quietly exiting the Athena Cabin and walking towards Poseidon's, before she can convince herself otherwise. She pushes open the dark, deep blue door, wincing as it creaks on its rust hinges. She twists the doorknob so it shuts quietly before standing there, on the cold, wood floor, hoping she had been noisy enough to wake Percy. The room remains silent.

"Percy!" she hisses, the rational part of her brain registering that it was too late to turn back now, "Are you awake?" There's no answer. She frowns, stepping a bit closer to the bed he usually slept in. "Percy?" she asks, cautiously, tugging slightly at his blankets.

The bed is empty.

After dealing without him, after finding out that he was dead, after crying herself to sleep every night for two weeks, she panics, slightly, and rips the blanket off all the way to reveal the bed just as empty as before, before moving onto the others. He's not in any of them, either, and she takes a breath, slipping back outside and heading for the lake.

The moonlight reflects on the seemingly endless black water, and Annabeth watches as a sort of magical, invisible smoke curls off the surface of it. Her eyes trail to the docks, where a figure sits, knees drawn up, arms tightly wrapped them, looking out onto the water. She exhales in relief, heading toward it.

Annabeth bends down next to Percy, before stretching out her legs and settling in next to him, copying his position. They're quiet for a long time, and Annabeth glances over, curiously, after a long moment, wondering if Percy had fallen asleep. He hadn't - he was just unnervingly still. It startled her, in a way she didn't think would. Percy was always restless, always moving, whether he was pulling at a sweater string, or tapping his fingers to an imaginary beat; she had never seen him be still for longer than seconds at a time.

"Percy?" she whispers, and he doesn't react. "Are you okay?" She follows his eyes to an inspecific point in the middle of the lake, unsure of what to do. "Percy." she says, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He jolts and startles, and Annabeth draws her hand away, as he looks up at her with wide eyes as if just realizing she was there. His breathing picks up, comes in painful gasps, his chest heaving.

"Beth?" he stutters, and she licks her lips, nodding.

"Yeah," she says, softly, and his irises turn blue, "It's me. You're - you're okay." He states at her for a moment, before his eyes fill with tears and his whole body shudders. He grabs her arm, desperately, and she responds by pulling him into a hug. She can feel her shoulder get soaked as he cries into it. "I've got you, you're here. Okay? I've got you. You're here with me. It's okay - everything's okay." she says, trying to figure out what brought this on.

"I'm sorry," he says, hiccuping, "I - I didn't mean to, I'm sorry."

"Hey, its not your fault. It's okay."

"All those people," he whispers, and she pauses, "I shouldn't have - I hurt so many of them, I don't -," he shudders, again and she squeezes her eyes shut, before pulling away and looking him in the eyes.

"Percy, listen to me, okay?" she says, and he looks away before making eye contact, "What happened was not your fault. Got it? You were gonna die -," her voice catches, but she keeps going, "You were going to die. You made an impossible decision - one that saved your life, yeah? You didn't mean to do it. And it wasn't your fault. What were you supposed to do die?" she asks, and he looks away, eyes briefly fluttering shut.

"It - it would've been - better, I mean. For - for everyone. I -,"

"No." Annabeth says, cutting him off and he limps against her, "You can't - You can't think like that, okay?" she asks, voice cracking, "Okay? Cause its not true. You know that, right?" He blinks up at her, head resting on her arm, but doesn't say anything, for a long time.

"I'm tired." he mumbles, after a while, another tear slipping down his cheek, and her heart heaves.

"Okay." she whispers, "Let's go back to your cabin, okay?" she says, and he nods, sniffling, as he roughly wipes his eyes with his sweater sleeve. She'll have to convince him to talk to Chiron or one of the Apollo campers tomorrow, but tonight they had back into Cabin Three, and Annabeth takes the bed above Percy's.

"You don't have to stay here, you know." he says, after they've gotten settled.

"Yeah, I know, I just -," don't want you to hurt yourself. She trails off. "Am too tired to move." she settles for, instead and she hears him sniff, "Goodnight, Percy."

"Night, Beth."