Alternatively

Broken Compass (ii.)

The ebb and flow of a ship at sea lulled her into a sense of security that was quickly ripped away when she opened her eyes. A ceiling she did not know swirled above her, her eyes dotted with stars that blinked away after a few seconds. It took her a moment to remember why her torso was so sore, but what was lost on her was why the searing pain she once knew was so tame. She felt around, afraid to move too quickly. Her hands skirted course blankets, neatly tucked around her body. The only sound in the room was the rustling of those blankets as she sat up, her nerves pinching and the once white bandages around her middle squelching red underneath the billowing shirt.

She knew exactly where she was. If the distinct smell of pine wood and ocean salt wasn't enough, the mess surrounding the clean bubble of her bed was clearly marked Percy. Clothes, both bloodied and torn, littered the floor, weapons cluttered in every corner of the room, and the desk was simply an explosion of a person obsessed. She knew because her desk mirrored the condition. Maps and papers and open books fluttered in the gentle wind brushing through the open bay windows.

The room was breathing.

Annabeth looked around, finding no sign of the other captain. It felt wrong to be in his quarters; a captain kept his room locked at all costs, no entry permitted. Laying in his bed was definitely not following that rule either, but she was hardly complaining.

Holding her hand to the staining bandages, she pushed to stand on sleep stiffened legs. The light was honey on the deep cherry wood that made up the cabin, casting delicate shadows that spindled on the walls. Every thump and thud that flitted by the door made her flinch as she plodded gingerly to the desk. Percy's hospitality might not have extended to her snooping, but when else would she have the opportunity? The maps were marked up in black ink, tracing patterns that had no correlation to each other. Currents and stream lines went against the trade routes, but he managed to circle coordinates where the best heists were conducted exactly. And the books? Illegible, the same black ink scrawled in the margins and in between the lines. She ran her fingers across the raised print, wondering how much of his devil may care attitude was really left to natural reaction.

Staring at the letters made her head spin and the effects of her injuries came rushing back. She leaned heavily on the desk's edge, turning her gaze to the golden sun melting into the ocean. It felt like days, but tonics and spells coursed through her veins; it had only been mere hours since their fight at high noon.

"-when I say so!"

The door was wrenched open, Percy storming in with a scowl engraved on his features. Upon noticing her he stopped, face carefully wiped blank. He closed the door softly, stalking over with an ominous click of his boots on the wood. A pendant around his neck swung with his swaggering step and she was sure she had seen it somewhere before.

"Where's my crew?"

"You shouldn't be up," he said, eyes glittering with the setting sun.

She propped her hands on her hips in a facade of bravado. "Why have you kept me here?"

"Your bandages need to be changed again," he stalked right up to her. "It's rude to go through all my resources like this."

"I wouldn't have to if you let my crew take me back to my ship," she sneered, leaning back from him.

"I have a healer."

"So do I."

"Your healer is a child," he scoffed, holding out his hand. "Don't be difficult."

"Oh, forgive me if I'm skeptical," she spat.

He just stood there, hand extended and face surprisingly open. Despite her better judgement, she trusted him. If he wanted to kill her, he would have.