Alternatively

Late Night Reflections

She came in at 11 PM.

She had an 7 AM class the next morning, but she had powered through such classes on rougher nights.

Everything ached, which wasn't a new sensation. Typically, the weirdest days were the ones in which she came home with nothing bogging her down. However, she was hurting in a more intense fashion. Pulling the apartment door shut was a herculean task. Easing her bag to the ground was like detaching her entire arm. She couldn't take off her clothes without tearing up, searing pain rippling through her muscles. She bit her lip to keep quiet; Percy was dead asleep in the room and it was rare when he slept soundly.

Keeping their home safe was a priority, placed above comfort and normality. As a team, they combated whatever monster decided to pop up in the city. Annabeth knew that it would be a lot to deal with, as they were both going to school full time in addition to working in order to pay for their apartment. She never expected it to be a cake walk.

What she didn't expect was the mental strain that came along with the obligatory physical stresses. Since they were 12, they had faced monsters and gods and Hell in it's truest form. Defending their city should have been fairly simple compared to all their quests in the past, yet she was constantly plagued with irrational fears and thoughts and impossible scenarios.

She stood in the shower with her head down and shoulders slumped, letting the water scorch her skin. Everything in her wanted to give up, let someone else save the world for at least one day. So much had been given up so they could fill the roles as hero they were born into. Childhood and adulthood would be the same, the only difference was how she evolved to see those she trusted. Blood and weapons and tears and rage tainted them both and it wasn't fair.

But then came the thought of who would take the blame if the world were to end if they walked away. Would it fall to the new heroes, fresh out of middle school and hopelessly niave? Or would it be all her fault, the experienced warrior who chose to abandon the cause out of weariness? She knew which one she would choose.

She cranked the shower nozzle to the left, the water cutting off with a squeak. Steam hung on the air and on the towel she wrapped around her body. She didn't bother looking in the mirror, flipping off the light and padding into the room. The bedside lamp had been turned on, Percy watching her as she plodded to the closet.

Damn it.

It was quiet, the sound of water drops smacking the carpet too loud for the type of mood she was in. Carefully, as to not agitate her muscles, she felt around for underwear in the cubby screwed into the wall. Her reflection in the door mirror blurred in her peripheral and try as she might, she couldn't ignore it. Bruises splotched up her arms, some scars white with age and some just beginning to form from sealed wounds. Her hair, weighed down by water, dripped down her back, droplets trailing across cuts and rough ridges her towel couldn't hide. What was worse was the expression she wore, defeated and exhausted.

She never wanted to see herself like that.

The sheets rustled behind her and she hurried to slip on the boxers she had stolen from Percy when they first moved in. He came up behind her, gently pulling the towel from her. With sure hands, he gathered her sopping curtain of curls and worked the water away with the towel.

"Sorry I woke you."

"S'fine," he murmured. "Wasn't really asleep anyway."

She stared at the purple and yellow bruise blossoming over her ribs. "You need to take that medicine you got."

"It's not that I have trouble falling asleep, it's what happens when I do sleep."

A car horn echoed from somewhere below and Percy helped her into the shirt she wore to sleep, easing one arm up and through at a time. He had a new scar under his eye, she noticed, following his reflection in the mirror. He met her gaze and sighed, carefully holding her close. Her hand grasped arm, thumb rubbing circles idly into his skin.

"Central Park?"

She hummed her response. "Manticore again. He definitely remembered me."

"I should have been there to-"

"You needed rest," she scowled. "Besides, I'm capable of handling that asshole on my own."

He kissed the tender skin of her shoulder. "I know, I know. You probably handed his ass to him on his way back to Tartarus."

"You know it."

He was warm against her back, the smell of a sea breeze and his Old Spice bodywash enveloping her in a sense of home. She handed him a hair tie, with which he bound her hair back in a bun before shuffling the both of them to the bed. Sitting was both a relief and a new type of torture, the muscles in her thighs screaming obscenities that her torso soon joined in on when she leaned back to the mattress. Wincing, Annabeth shifted onto her side and clutched a pillow tightly. The lights went out and she realized how tired she actually was.

"Your alarm is set," Percy whispered, flinging the covers over the top of them.

"Go to sleep," she yawned, reaching for his hand.

"Real easy to say."

"Go to sleep, I'm right here."

Despite her drooping eyes, Annabeth didn't allow herself to drift off until she felt his hand go slack two hours later.