Lost In My Memories Without You

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A/N: I know I know an update after all these years. Oof.
It's been a while since I read the books, so sorry in advance if I fuck shit up. More A/N at the end!
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Being in the middle of a war with giants and angry Romans and the ground beneath their feet kinda prevented the campers at good ol' CHB from rolling out a formal welcome wagon, but in the aftermath it couldn't be said that the poor demigods didn't try.

Many tried to come up with less depressing things to do around camp and of course invited the Seven, including Percy and Annabeth, but with all the turmoil, destruction, and death surrounding the camp and all the bullshit that Percy and Annabeth had been through it just didn't seem to work. No matter how hard other campers would try to get the couple to relax and interact with others, the conversation would always fall flat and their eyes would cloud over as they stared at nothing in particular and unconsciously leaned into each other. They both hated the idea of being codependent or showing weakness but their brains had other plans.

Everyone knew they were definitely not okay and wanted to help, but what do you say to someone who just fought their way through hell personified? Plus, they were a lot of demigods' heroes—nobody really liked to bring up the fact that the strongest people they knew were mentally fucked and physically exhausted, frail-looking, and in a lot of pain. It's hard to put your role models on a pedestal if it appears to be a miracle that they're standing.

It didn't take long for it to become apparent to their friends that they weren't sleeping. At all. They looked exhausted to begin with but somehow it got worse, which seemed impossible. They'd dose off at breakfast, then suddenly gasp and look around frantically until they realized they were at camp. The physical toll Tartarus had taken on their bodies was tremendous to begin with, and their sleepless nights were not helping the healing process (which Will made sure to remind them). After a few days Percy's body couldn't take it anymore and he drifted off while laying in his bed that night, hopelessly attempting to keep his mind on positive thoughts. Annabeth was awake, trying to focus (and failing) on a book she wanted to read on the Kindle Malcom had given her for Christmas. About an hour after Percy had passed out and just as Annabeth's eyelids were feeling too heavy to continue holding open, a scream pierced the silence of the sleeping camp. An aching, frightened scream that Annabeth knew all too well.

Not even bothering to put on shoes or a jacket, she flung the door open and sprinted towards cabin 3. A few campers stumbled out of their cabins with weapons in tow, ready to fight whatever was causing the screaming and looking confused when there was nothing there. Ignoring the stares she practically slammed into the door. The shitty handle wasn't opening and she could hear him panicking in his sleep. Stupid Percy and his overly humid cabin. She kept telling him the moisture was making the door stick but did he do anything about it? Of course not. He claimed to like feeling a bit of water in the air. It was supposedly helpful for him.

She was about to kick the damn door in when she finally managed to get it to slide open. And there was was Percy. He seemed to still be asleep; he was shaking violently, his face contorted in anguish and fear. One hand was pulling his hair—it had gotten so long and was now mixed with patches of silver; his hair was constantly so messy that it hid his gray streaks fairly well, but Annabeth noticed. She had them too. His other hand was clasped around his stomach and he honestly did not look good. He seemed so vulnerable and small like a child; it reminded her of the scared boy she first met when she was twelve in some ways. "No, this is worse," she thought.

She paused for less than a second after bursting through the door, but her heart ached and stretched time. She carefully walked to his side and sat on the bed as gently as possible to avoid scaring him. Now that she was closer she could hear him quietly whimpering and muttering under his breath. Mostly "no," "sorry," and "Annabeth." She wanted to hold him but he seemed to be in such a fragile state that she felt it was imperative that she didn't spook him. She placed a hand lightly on his arm but he still flinched and let out a strangled cry at the contact.