More Than Just Little Soldiers (PART 2)

CHAPTER 1: STILL HIGH ON ALERT

Annabeth POV

"What are we doing, Seaweed Brain?" I whispered, my voice scratchy and raw. It was just past the middle of the night and, yet, none of us could sleep.

Not since the war.

Not since Tartarus.

I shuddered at the mere thought of that place, the place that keeps us awake at night. Scenes of the torture and of the war flashed before my eyes. I tried to keep it in for Percy's sake, but each time I failed. Each time I end up curling up close next to Percy and digging my face into his shirt as tears slipped from my eyes.

"We need help," he murmured, his voice equally hoarse. He wasn't fairing much better either. The lack of sleep was clear with the dark purple bags that fell from under his eyes. He lost a lot of muscle during the years we spend down there and he has been trying to build it back up, but none of us has had much of an appetite since we returned.

I cannot even remember a single night of peace without thinking far back. My childhood I spent with my father, Frederick. Ran away, lived in the streets, and then made it to Camp. I can't even believe that, before I turned twelve, I used to beg to be sent on a quest. To get out into the real world.

Now?

I've seen enough.

We've done enough.

"How come everyone else looks like they're getting better?" Percy asked me, looking at me with his eyes wide and sad. "Gods, they're all healing from the war and I still feel so horrible. Everywhere I turn there's danger. I can't get my body out of overdrive."

It was true, and everyone had noticed it. A prank by the Stolls, one time, a month after the war, went too far and spiraled me into a horrible panic attack (I was so embarrassed to have had one in public, but Percy was there to help me and no one mentioned it after). They had stopped with the pranks all together with us. Even Clarisse was nicer. Stopped calling Percy out every two seconds with a battle cry and stupid nickname after he almost attacked her when she spooked him. And I don't mean "attack" as in humorously getting back at Clarisse. I meant one fueled by fear and anger. His sword moved delicately and dangerously through the air; she couldn't keep up with traumatized war veteran. Not after he got into that mindset.

"I don't know Perce," I said sadly. "I feel the exact same way. I keep on checking back to see if anything is there to attack me. And I know we're obviously here for each other, but we need to actually get help."

"Do you think we could talk to Chiron about it?"

I frowned a little bit at that, not really liking the idea of going to Chiron. But then, I remembered that, on top of being a trainer for demigods for centuries, Chiron was like a father figure to me. After I had run away, he was the parent I never had in my life. Always let me spend time with him. He even let me grade some exam papers and homework assignments when he would go undercover as a teacher and come back to camp for the night. As embarrassing as it was, I actually really did enjoy that.

"Tomorrow morning," I decided, looking at Percy with firm will in my eyes.

"Wha-wait what? You really want to go to Chiron?"

"Yes. Percy, you're right. We're not getting better but we need to learn how to. Maybe asking Chiron would be a good step in that direction. Maybe he can get us a therapist or something."

"A therapist?" Percy said questioningly. He bit his lip in thought for a solid minute before speaking up again. "Yea-yeah sure. That's true. We need to talk to someone about this other than each other. But aren't therapists, like, really expensive?"

"Well, technically, they are," I mused. "But we can bribe the gods into paying it for us."

Percy laughed a bit at that.

"Yeah, they shoved all this trauma into us. The least they could do is pay up a bill."

"Maybe we can mail them a receipt?" I said, chuckling softly, thinking about our first quest when Percy mailed Medusa's head to Olympus.

Percy looked up at me, with nothing but love in his eyes, and wrapped me into a nice, warm hug, holding me close.

"We'll get through this," he told me.

I really, really wanted to believe him.