Chapter Text
Percy wasn't sure how long he and Annabeth fell for, but at some point, he began to believe they'd never hit the bottom. The wind whipped past them like a torrent of water Percy couldn't control. His ears popped and whistled. The only thing he could feel was Annabeth, so he held onto her like his life depended on it, which didn't mean a whole lot because he was pretty sure they were going to die anyway.
Percy Jackson, Slayer of Titans and Giants, Hero of Olympus, dead to a flimsy piece of string tied around his girlfriend's ankle. At least they'd died together. He wasn't sure what he'd have done if it had just been him or, gods forbid, if it had just been Annabeth. He probably would have jumped into Tartarus without knowing where she was just knowing that she was stuck in there.
"I love you," he said into the shell of her ear, but he wasn't sure if she heard him. She might've because her grip grew tighter around him, and she buried her head into the crook of his neck. If she returned the sentiment, it got lost in the breeze.
Dead. The idea of it didn't feel real. After everything, this was it? His heart was hammering against his chest. We better have achieved Elysium, he thought, eyes watering from the onslaught of wind. At the very least, she- Annabeth- better have.
____
He would have been dead within the hour if not for Annabeth. First, it was her saving him from the River of Misery, where he'd almost given into the pain of it all and died (The whispers still spoke to him. It's not worth it, they said, their claws digging into his heart. You should just die. You'll never make it out anyway, and even if you do, you'll just be fighting a losing battle).
He would have been dead over again if she hadn't remembered the River of Fire, where the flame had scorched itself down his throat. He had wondered to himself if he could control this river, too, even though it was made of flame. Probably not. Leo might be able to, though.
He'd have certainly been dead if not for the simple fact that she was there. Annabeth, no matter how torn her clothes were, how dirt-streaked her hair was nor how many cuts littered her skin, was there in all her kickass glory.
When Bob came along and saved them from the cheerleader vampires, he'd followed behind the Titain, but his eyes kept falling back onto Annabeth. She caught him staring a few times and cast him worn out smiles that didn't quite reach her eyes, but each time Percy felt waves of relief wash over him. They were in this Hell-hole- literally- together.
After convincing Bob to kill his brother, after the Hermes shrine, and after the little detour of Small Bob, the little skeleton kitten, they trecked through what Percy was pretty sure was Tartarus's armpit, which was really just a lovely thought. Tall, eerie trees stretched into shadows above them, and a chill seemed determined to bury itself into Percy's bones; a weird stickiness clung to his skin.
It was a matter of time until something attacked.
Right as he thought that, a rustle caught Percy's attention. He lifted his sword, casting a small bit of light into the air, but he couldn't make anything out. "What is it?" He asked, suddenly tense.
Bob turned and looked back, confused. "We are stopping?"
Annabeth held up her hand, seemingly sensing something aloof as well. Percy watched her brows scrunch together as a (cute) look of concentration crossed her face. Her mouth pulled taut. "Something's moving above us," she said in a low tone of voice. "Gather up."
Bob and Percy turned their backs on each other. Percy's grip tightened around his sword, his heart beginning to thunder in his chest.
A tree shuttered near them.
It's not like I haven't faced worse than whatever this is going to be, he stupidly thought. By this point, he really should have known better.
A few somethings dropped down from the sky, circling them, and Percy was reminded starkly of the Furies. The beings were leatherly with old, disgusting faces that seemed to say, "I don't even know what a mirror is!" Large bat-like wings graced their backs and their eyes seemed more bloodshot than Tyson's after he'd been crying for a few hours straight, which was saying a lot.
"What are you?" Annabeth demanded before Percy could bite out a remark about their looks.
The arai. The curses! Hissed a voice.
"What- what do you want?" Annabeth asked, and Percy's heart squeezed at her tone of voice. She was scared, but she was putting up a front. Man, she was brave.
Some sort of voice cackled from around them. To curse you, of course! To destroy you a thousand times in the name of Mother Night!
"Only a thousand times?" Percy mused. A chill was crawling down his spine. "Oh, good... I thought we were in trouble."
Finally, they attacked, and Percy was lying if he said he didn't find himself a little relieved. Sure, the odds weren't great (three against several dozen), but at least he understood fighting. Waiting around in the dark for an attack to happen- no thank you. He'd rather get it over with.
He waved his sword, warding them away. "Back off," he warned, jabbing at the nearest hag. She only sneered.
We are the arai, said the voice that seemed to be coming from everywhere yet nowhere. You cannot destroy us.
Yeah, well, I can try, Percy thought.
Annabeth pressed against his shoulder. "Don't touch them," she warned. "They're the spirits of curses."
"Bob doesn't like curses," Bob decided. Me either, big guy, Percy thought. Small Bob dissapeared inside his coveralls. Smart cat.
Bob swung his broom in a wide arc, steering them away, but they came back in again like the tide.
The arai let out another speech about curses and the defeated. Percy wasn't liking the sound of it. One lunged, her claws extending like bony switchblades, and he cut her in two, but his sides suddenly flared in pain. He clamped his hand to his side; it came away bloody.
"Percy, you're bleeding!" Annabeth cried, which was kind of obvious to him at that point. "Oh, Gods, on both sides."
He looked down- it was true. It was like something had pierced right through him... like an arrow.
Oh, God's.
"Geryon," Percy said. "This is how I killed him.."
Yes, they agreed. Feel the pain you inflicted upon Geryon. So many curses have been leveled on you, Percy Jackson. Which will you die from? Choose, or we will rip you apart!
Percy somehow stayed on his feet. The blood stopped spreading, but he still felt like he had a hot metal curtain rod sticking through his ribs. His sword arm felt weak.
"I don't understand," he muttered.
Bob's voice seemed far away. "If you kill one, it gives you a curse."
"But if we don't kill them..." Annabeth said.
"They'll kill us anyway," Percy guessed.
The arai launched into another speech. Percy's head was a bit woozy from blood loss, but their intentions were clear; they wanted him to suffer.
He'd heard that before.
Percy decided he was in serious trouble. He'd faced a lot of enemies and had killed a lot of enemies. There were a lot of curses that had been sent his way.
The next moments seemed to work in slow motion.
One of the demons lunged at Annabeth. Instinctively, she dodged. She brought a rock down on the old lady's head and broke her into dust.
It wasn't like she had a choice. Percy would've done the same thing. But instantly Annabeth dropped her rock and screamed in alarm- a sound that immediately had Percy's whole body ready for battle.
She didn't scream like that.
She just didn't.
It was blood curdling and desperate, seeming to rip at the edges of her throat. Percy immediately turned his back on the arai; he was at her side before he could blink, on his knees, cradling her head.
Oh, Gods. Oh, no.
She was choking. Blood was bubbling out of her mouth, streaking lines from the corners of her lips back to her hair. A look at her chest revealed a deep, long gash leading from between her collarbones down to her pelvis.
No.
Nononono.
Percy couldn't hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. He needed to stop the blood, or- or he needed Bob to come stop it.
He looked up. "BOB!" He yelled, his voice almost giving out on itself from the sheet volume.
But Bob had been talking to the arai, and when he turned to Percy, he asked, "My memory... it was you?"
Not now. Not now.
"What?!" Percy demanded, his mouth working faster than his mind. "Your memory? Of course not! I'm- I'm- I'm your friend, I-I wouldn't do that- Bob, Annabeth needs help!"
Bob shook his head, seemingly clearing his confusion away. "Friend!" He bellowed, trying to get to them.
The arai held him back- they attacked, thir fangs flashing and their talons ripping holes through Bob's clothes. Bob killed them as fast as he could, managing to at least keep the beings away from him and Annabeth, but it wasn't fast enough.
Percy looked down at Annabeth and made the quick decision to pull his shirt off, packing it down into her wound. She tried to scream, but more blood just bubbled out of her mouth; only a gurgle sound escaped.
"I've got you, I've got you," Percy repeated over and over and over again, desperate as he worked to stop the bleeding.
She gurgled. She was going to suffocate.
Nonononono.
He couldn't put pressure on her stomach to try to get her to cough the blood out- it would just make it worse. Instead, he flipped her over, hoping that she would be able to use gravity to her advantage.
Not like this.
The thought pierced him through his panic, and a cold, seeping feeling of dread spread throughout his body.
Not like this.
No, no, no, no.
"BOB!" Percy screamed, his throat nearly ripping apart from the pressure of it. "NOW!"
He held one hand underneath her, careful of her wound while the older helped to hold her head up as she spat out blood, but more just kept coming. Small squeaks of voice escaped her. Annabeth put her forearm on the ground to try to push herself into a better position, but it was wobbling.
Percy realized he was crying. Sobs tore through his chest, and large gasps escaped him as he held her in his arms.
Useless.
It was useless.
No, no, no, no.
A sudden memory flashed through him of the time when he'd controlled water out of Jason's lungs. Blood had water in it, right? It was liquid, at least.
Maybe-
Percy concentrated with his whole being, his thoughts circulating around extracting the blood that was blocking Annabeth's throat. With a surprisingly low amount of effort, her blood began to leave her mouth in a scarlet rope. She fought for the sudden available air, gasping.
It hadn't been enough.
Her forearm gave out from under her, and Percy flipped her back over, trying to look into her eyes. They seemed sightless.
They were sightless.
No, no, no, no. No.
"Annabeth?" He gently shook her shoulders. Sure, she'd lost a lot of blood, but she'd lost that much before and survived, right? She was fine.
"Annabeth," he forced out again, shaking her a bit harder. "Get up. Get up."
He wished he had Piper's charmspeak because then she'd simply wake up.
"Annabeth, you have to get up- now. Bob-" He looked up, about to say that Bob wouldn't be able to hold them for much longer, but the Titain seemed to have done fine- the group of arai that had gathered around them had dissapared. Bob stood, motionless, looking at Percy with weirdly blank eyes. "Bob did it," Percy said, looking back down at her. "We're done. We can travel again."
She didn't move. Percy faintly realized he was shaking- full on tremors plagued his limbs. He opened his mouth, but all that escaped was a sob. "Come on, Wise Girl," he said, the nickname falling on his lips. "Get up. Time to go. We got the prophecy thing, remember?"
She didn't move. At all. Her chest wasn't rising and falling with the rhythm of her breaths. There were no breaths.
"You can't leave me," Percy said, his voice raw. "You can't leave me. ANNABETH!"
He stood, his hand tightening on his sword again, rounding on Bob the Titain. The two holes in his chest hardly mattered anymore, not when- not when-
"You," he said, his eyes piercing into Bob's. "Help her. Help her," he pointed the sword at Annabeth. "Now."
Bob warily looked at him. "It was you," he said. Percy had no idea what he was talking about.
"Help her," he growled, his mind immediately flashing to his control over blood. Titain's didn't have blood- they had ichor- but it couldn't be too different, right? It still probably had some water in it, right?
Distantly, he noted that that wasn't the case. He had control over water, not over all liquids. But Bob wasn't helping Annabeth and she was dying.
That thought was enough for Percy to manage the focus to involuntarily jerk Bob forward by his ichor. Something like a crystal ball seemed to shatter in Percy's stomach as he did so, but he hardly paid it attention, not when Annabeth needed help.
"Do it," he repeated in a steel voice, a sense of calm nothingness having settled over him.
"Bob can't," Bob said, his eyes having widened into something like fear. "Bob cannot heal this."
"Yes, you can," Percy said. "And you will. She needs help. We're your friends. You're going to help."
"Bob cannot heal a dead person," Bob said, which was a stupid thing to say. Annabeth wasn't dead. Of course she wasn't. She'd survived far worse things than arai. She wasn't dead.
Oh, Gods.
"Tartarus kills demigods," Bob said. "And demigods don't get back up, not like monsters. Monsters get revived. Annabeth will not get revived."
No.
No. No. No.
Annabeth was dead?
Bob sniffled, and a tear ran down the titain's cheek.
Percy fell to his knees, his sword falling limply out of his hand. His chest was still bare from him having taken off his shirt; he was covered in blood and dust and cuts.
Annabeth was dead.
The thought felt unreal. It was unreal. How could his Annabeth be dead? How was Percy meant to survive without Annabeth?
How was he meant to survive without Annabeth?
They were supposed to have a life together. Out in New Rome where they'd maybe to to college and, Gods, have fucking kids some day. She was supposed to grow old with him after this stupid fucking quest.
No, no, no, no.
It was never going to happen.
No, no, no, no.
Annabeth wasn't just his girlfriend. She was part of him. He wasn't Percy without her- he just wasn't. Even when he'd lost his memories, he knew that something had been wrong, that he was missing someone.
He couldn't breathe. Sobs were wrecking through him and he couldn't breathe.
He jerked up and punched the ground several times in a row, an endless abyss ripping through him and tearing him apart and scattering around his insides, making him feel nauseous. A scream was being torn from his chest. He was going to puke. Oh, Gods, she was dead? Oh, Gods.
He spared a glance at her and she was still looking off into the distance with those sightless eyes and oh Gods.
He leaned to the side and puked, his fist still buried into the ground. He couldn't stop. Fire seemed to reach up his throat because most of what was in his stomach was poorly digested flame. Oh, Gods.
He spat, but when he looked over at her again he felt nauseous all over again. How was she dead? How was Annabeth dead?
"I CAN SMELL HIM!" Someone bellowed in the distance. Polybotes, Percy thought distantly.
"You must go," Bob said, his voice devoid of emotion despite the tears that ran down his face.
Percy glanced up at him. "What?" He croaked. "No, no, I can't leave her."
"THE SON OF POSEIDON!"
"Percy must leave," Bob said.
"Are you not coming with me?" Percy asked although that didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Annabeth was dead.
Bob was silent.
"Are you?" Percy repeated.
"Bob knows what Percy did," Bob said. "You got rid of my memory."
Something frozen washed over Percy. Bob thought that was important? Guess what, buddy? No one fucking cares. Annabeth was dead, and all Bob was thinking about was his stupid fucking memory.
Percy snarled, standing back up with his sword in hand. "She's dead," he said. "She's dead, and all you care about is yourself?"
Bob blinked and looked down guiltily.
"You used to be a terrible person," Percy said, his voice made of steel. "You were fucking terrible. You killed for fun." He pointed at Annabeth with the sword again. "You did that to people FOR FUN, and you still want to be that person, Bob? You want to be a titan? Fucking- this is all YOUR FUCKING FAULT ANYWAY!" Percy took a step forward, and Bob took a step back, wincing as if he were in pain. "If you hadn't led us to this stupid forest in the first place, SHE WOULD STILL BE ALIVE!"
The titan fell to his knees, grunting in pain. Percy realized he'd taken control of his ichor; he released it, and the titan took in a deep breath. The kittin crawled out from under his clothes, looked at Percy and hissed.
Stupid cat.
"Bob feels bad," Bob said, eyes wide. "I-I believe Percy is right. I-I will do whatever you want me to do."
It wasn't enough. Percy looked over at Annabeth, and anguish washed over him all over again. He walked over to her body and, shakily, gently, picked her up.
He was bringing her back home. He couldn't just- he couldn't just leave her body here.
BOOM, BOOM, BOOM. "HIS SCENT IS GETTING STRONGER! BEWARE, COME OF POSEIDON! I COME FOR YOU!" A distant titan's voice boomed.
"Percy and Bob have to go," Bob said, his voice holding a slight tremble. Good. "Follow Bob."
Percy did that. He began to follow after Bob, shirtless, his throat still burning, with Annabeth's lifeless body in his arms.