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Help, I'm still at the restaurant
Still sitting in a corner I haunt
Cross-legged in the dim light
They say, "What a sad sight"
I, I swear you could hear a hair pin drop
Right when I felt the moment stop
Glass shattered on the white cloth
Everybody moved on
I, I stayed there
Dust collected on my pinned-up hair
They expected me to find somewhere
Some perspective, but I sat and stared
—
She knew it would happen eventually. He was reckless, impulsive, and above all, a demigod. The gods watched with wide eyes as the boy prophesied to die at sixteen lived on. Again, hardly more than a year later, he evaded death. She should have expected it.
—
The day it happened was permanently seared behind her eyelids. It had all been so quick. They had a lot to drink that night, with their son at his aunt’s apartment, they could have a little fun.
“Don’t tempt me, my love,” Percy had leaned across his wife’s bare chest and rested his forehead on her’s. “Monster hunting this far into the bottle of whiskey is a horrible idea.”
“Just a dracaenae or two, baby. Please? I'm antsy to pull my knife on something other than a dummy.” Annabeth kissed him softly in a last attempt to persuade him.
“Fine, but drink some water first.” Percy had stood, wobbling slightly as he pulled on a pair of jeans he’d probably had since he was eighteen, judging by the ragtag state they were in.
That should have been their first sign to stop.
—
“We're almost forty years old and they still pester us,” Annabeth shook her head with a giggle when she spotted a lurking dracaenae.
“Technically, you are the one pestering them right now, hon.” Percy closed his eyes momentarily as he leaned against the wall. “We're too drunk for this, we should go back.”
“You can stay back, but I'm going in.” Annabeth grinned manically and began her run toward the beast. Behind her, Percy grumbled a few incoherent words before following her begrudgingly.
The first dracaenae went down easy enough, but they were drunk and clumsy. Nothing could bring them down from the high giddy rush of excitement from being back in a battle.
That is, until they got sloppy. Percy left his blindspot unprotected, and Annabeth was foolish enough to not notice.
She turned to him just as it had happened. He had a smile on his face, then he froze, and red blood began to stain through his shirt over his shoulder.
Annabeth screamed in terror, in fury. She rushed forward, catching Percy in her arms. She lay him carefully on the pavement before rearing back on the dracaenae and stabbing through its chest.
With both monsters dead, she dropped to her knees at Percy's side as he coughed violently. His back was covered in blood, and it was pooling on the ground below.
“Fuck, fuck—baby, love, stay with me, alright?” Her voice rose in violent panic.
“Beth,” he reached up to caress her face shakily. “You've got to—you’ve got to move on, love. Live a long fucking life, for me, yeah?” He coughed again as the poison of the gash spread. His blood was all over her now, mingling with their combined tears.
“Nonono, Percy, don't leave me. Please—no!”
“Tell Julian I love him —I love him so much. And Mom, and Stel’ and Paul.” He began to gasp for air, at which point Annabeth began to cry so hard she was unable to speak. Rather, she nodded.
His voice had grown hoarse from the effort to continue speaking, to continue living. “I love you—so much, Annabeth, love.” Another weak breath. “I'll see you in Elysium, my love.”
—
She hadn't been alright for a long, long time after that night. She hardly spoke, hardly emerged from her room, hardly was able to look at Julian, who was so much like Percy.
She knew that Julian needed her more than ever. The six-year-old hardly had any idea what was going on, just that his daddy hadn't come home yet.
One night, nearly four months after the funeral, she stood from bed, remembering the honey tea that she had always saved for the days where the PPD had hit extra hard. Maybe, just maybe, it would help slightly.
The pictures had been taken off the walls and put in boxes; every last one. The walls were bare save for the occasional flea market painting.
The stairs had become unfamiliar. The last time she had come out of her room was two weeks ago when she'd been on her period to pick up some extra tampons while Julian was at school. Never had Annabeth been in such a deep rut in her life. Not when Percy was presumed dead the first time, not the second, not even after emerging from Tartarus.
The house was filthy, if she allowed herself to be honest. It was never clean , per say, but it was never filthy.
Percy wanted her to move on—he said so himself. So she allowed herself the first inch: cleaning her house.
About halfway through deep cleaning the kitchen, she realized that she had no idea where Julian was. She hadn't seen him in a few days, actually.
Panicked, she took the stairs two at a time and crashed into his room. He wasn't there.
Annabeth felt the dread she had been fighting for years flood back through her gates. It was official. She was the worst mother ever, she lost her child.
“Julian?” She called out. Her voice was weak from disuse.
“Mama?” Julian poked out of the bathroom. His head was wet, and he only had blue dinosaur boxers on. “What are you doing out here?”
After Julian exited the bathroom, Grover followed, ruffling his hair. “Hey, are you doing alright?” He asked cautiously.
Somehow, this made her feel worse. She knew that Grover had been stopping in with groceries and cooking sometimes, but she had no idea that Grover was taking care of her child.
Annabeth nodded stiffly, eyes still trained on her son. “I was about to make dinner, do you want anything special?”
Slowly, his face lit up. He clung to her legs with a hug, looking up at her. “I love you, Mama. I wish you were more happier.”
“I'll try to be, for you,” she picked him up, holding him close just as she used to. “Have you been good for Uncle Grover?”
He nodded, and Grover grinned. “He's been very well behaved, I'm impressed with the little guy. He can be quite serious when he chooses.”
Annabeth took a sharp breath, looking up at the ceiling to conceal her tears. “I’m so proud of you, Juli.” She ran her fingers through his blond curls slowly.
“Why?” He asked curiously.
“You've just—you’ve been doing so well. And I'm incredibly sorry that I haven't been here for you more.” She sighed, sinking down to the flood and situating her son in her lap.
“It’s okay. I'm sad too, Daddy never told me when he'd be home and it's been a really long time.” Julian said quietly. He had never been the most emotional child, and seeing him upset would always break Annabeth's heart.
She let out a shaky breath as tears clouded her eyes. “Oh, my sweet boy.” She pressed a soft kiss to his temple. “Daddy—he isn't coming home. He’s safe in the underworld, now.” Tears were steadily streaming down her cheeks now and soaking her eyelashes. Grover sat next to her and rubbed her knee comfortingly.
“The underworld?” Julian pondered over the words, frowning. “Does that mean he's…dead?”
She could no longer answer, except for a slight nod as she began to sob.
—
An entirely new generation of campers had come to Camp Half Blood. It made sense, since Annabeth was nearing her late thirties, and the children running around the grounds were all ages from ten to eighteen.
She hadn't been here in years, not since before Julian was born. Everyone and their grandmother knew how badly that had turned out, especially after she'd argued for hours with Chiron on the basis of the dangers of having children as a demigod.
However, grief changed her in many different ways. In the year since Percy's death, she had attempted to improve her state of being, if not for herself, then for her son.
Being a single mother was more difficult than she had originally assumed. She'd had to pull Julian out of his private school and put him in public to help save money, as well as picking up a part-time job to help pay off the house and car payments. Sally had been a world of help with her guidance and advice, having been a single mother herself. Granted, Julian was a much more mellow child than Percy had been, but he certainly had wild moments.
So she led Julian through the oogling campers and counselors to the Big House, gaze never once wavering. Her knife was tucked under the waistline of her pants along with riptide, which she was contemplating on returning to Chiron.
“You grew up here? Is it like an orphanage?” Julian questioned her, eyebrows furrowed.
“It's not an orphanage, no. It's more like a camp for special kids. Your dad and I went here together in the summers.” She explained.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a couple who were previously kissing get pushed into the canoe lake. This brought a soft, desolate smile to her lips.
The big house was exactly the same as it was twenty years ago, with the exception of an ancient Wii wired to the even more ancient tv.
“I explicitly asked you all to knock at the fire last night— goddamn kids can't listen to shit .” The familiar grouchy voice of Mr D filled the empty space of the house. When he still hadn't appeared, Annabeth moved to the bookshelf to study the pictures. They ranged from old black and white to film to much more recent and clear.
She stopped on a specific picture, one she had nearly forgotten about. Chiron had taken it after she had gotten back from her first quest with Percy and Grover. She had been taller than both of them at the time and took every opportunity to swing it over their heads. In the picture, Grover gleefully had his arms wrapped around their shoulders, laurels lopsided and goofy smiles all over their faces.
A short cough from behind her pulled her away from the bookshelf, wiping at her eyes hastily.
Chiron stood in the middle of the room, smiling sadly. “Welcome back, my dear.”
Annabeth took a shaky breath, nodding quickly. “Hey, Chiron. I figured I'd bring Julian by, to show him more about—about Percy. We can leave though, if you want. Actually, we probably should…I can't be here right now.” She ducked her head, however unable to move as if she were rooted to the ground.
A moment later, Chiron had shifted to sit in his ‘wheelchair’. He rolled to a stop beside Annabeth, resting his hand gently on her forearm. “Dear, Annabeth, please sit.”
She nodded again, taking a quick seat and beckoning for Julian to sit beside her. He was staring wide-eyed at Chiron even after Annabeth pushed his mouth closed gently.
“I'm terribly sorry I haven't reached out. I could have been better for you.” Chiron sighed. “Alas, you are here now. How are you holding together?”
She shrugged, something she had only just begun. With grief came an inability to express herself in ways other than anger or sadness, so she shrugged.
“It's been so hard, Chiron. Fuck—it’s my fault too.” She brought her hand to her mouth to keep herself from admitting more.
“I'm sure it isn't your fault, Annabeth,” Chiron reasoned.
She shook her head violently. “No, no it is! We had been drinking a lot that night, and I wanted to go pick a fight with a few monsters, and he didn't want to go but he went for me and I got him killed.” Harsh sobs racked her body when she admitted to the secret she'd been holding on to.
She felt Chiron wrap his arms around her in comfort. He said nothing.
—
Years went by. Despite Percy's wishes, she never felt the strength to move on. The last time she hooked up with someone, she left their house crying. She hadn't tried since.
Just after her forty-fifth birthday, she received awful news.
Annabeth was diagnosed with stage III breast cancer.
She stood from the examination table numbly as a million questions flew through her mind.
Who will take Julian when I die?
How do you even write a will?
Will I see Percy again?
She was terrified, but at the same time, she was at a point in her life where she was no longer living, just surviving. Everything was a stab of pain without Percy, and she was losing her will to live quickly.
When she got home, she was surprised with a group of people waiting anxiously in her living room. Sixteen-year-old Julian sat with Sally as she talked him through his anxieties. Even her father was here, making small talk with Paul and Estelle.
She shut the door quietly, dropping her bags in defeat.
Each person looked up at her and her broken expression.
“Oh, honey,” Sally frowned sadly. At eighty, she was still as beautiful as always. Julian stood slowly and made his way to his mother.
“Mom?” He knelt in front of her, resting his hand on her shoulder. He looked more like Percy than ever in his worried state. “Everything is going to be okay, right? The doctors can treat it?”
Annabeth stood slowly, her body tired. “I'm sorry, Julian.” She pulled him into a tight hug. “There isn't much they can do to stop the spread.”
“But—Mama, no. I can't lose you too, no.” Julian rambled on, all the while tears spilled down his cheeks.
“Listen, my sweet, sweet boy.” Annabeth took her son in her arms just as she did when he was small. “We still have a few months left together. Afterwards, you are going to live a wonderful life, and I will see you again eventually. Understand?”
He nodded tearfully, clutching both of her hands. “I know you don't want to be here anymore, but…please try, for me?”
She nodded numbly, extracting herself from her son's embrace and moving to lean heavily against the wall. “Everything is going to be alright. I start chemo Friday, and everything will be fine .” Despite her reassuring words, Julian’s words rang in her head like an alarm.
I know you don’t want to be here anymore, but…please try, for me?
It was terrifying, because he was right. Annabeth was miserable. Not only because of Percy’s absence in her life, but because she had no idea what to do with herself. She never dreamed that she would make it to the point where she was old enough to have breast cancer, much less past twenty. Demigods weren’t made to live this long; they were meant to serve their purpose, then die tragically in battle. She had achieved her goals. She had risen in the ranks at her architecture firm and now rested comfortably as a shareholder of the company. She was bored .
“Annabeth?” Estelle asked, frowning. “You alright? You spaced out for a second there.”
“I’m fine.” She smiled and shrugged lightly. “Just thinking.”
Estelle nodded with a sigh. “I’ve got to get Mom and Dad back to their house, but I’ll stop in later to check on you and Julian, alright?”
“We’ll be alright, ‘Stel. Thank you, though.”
After hugging everyone tightly and wishing them well, Annabeth collapsed hard on the loveseat. “Fuck,” she muttered, face burried in her hands. She took a few deep breaths, subconsciously aware of Julian watching her as if he weren’t sure to act around her.
“Julian?” She asked quietly.
“Yeah?” His response was shy, as if he were six once again.
“I want you to know that I love you so incredibly much, and so does your father. I really do want to be able to be here with you, my darling. I promise you, I will fight as fucking hard as I can to stay with you.”
He was unable to produce words, so he simply snuggled into her side, eyes shut. “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry. It’s just…after Dad died, you were always so…different. You never seemed to be really happy when you said you were.”
Annabeth ran her fingers through his hair, holding his hand with her free one. “You are absolutely right. I—I haven’t been the best parent to you the last few years. I was so fucking selfish. If I could go back and do it all over again so I could have been better for you, I would.”
Julian sighed heavily, similar to the way she usually did. “You tried. That’s what’s important. I don’t blame you for what you’ve done.”
“You are so righteous, you know that? You got that from your dad. He was always so…good to people.”
He sat up, a small smile on his lips. “I don’t remember him very well, but I do remember him having the worst sense of humor.”
Annabeth groaned, finally smiling. “Gods, it was the worst. He was making dad jokes before he even knew I was pregnant, like it was a sixth sense or something.”
“Wasn’t he also really snarky?”
“Always. If I had to pick one word to describe him, it would be witty. Damn, that man could not read an address straight but he could come up with the smartest strategies on the fly.” She stood from the couch, rifling through the shelf of dvds. “Grandma Sally had a whole ass movie made about us, I’d been meaning to show it to you.”
“Uncle Grover is going to wash your mouth out with soap if you keep swearing like that,” Julian laughed.
“He should be used to it by now, I was swearing like a sailor by the time I was twelve.” Annabeth placed the disc in the dvd player and pressed play. “She got a lot of these videos from Hephaestus’ streaming service, so you’ve been warned.”
“They have a streaming service ? For what, entertainment of watching their kids die?” Julian asked, partially amused, partially disgusted.
“Sort of,” Annabeth shrugged. “When I was working on the rebuild of Olympus, it was constantly playing.”
“Ew,” he wrinkled his nose as the movie started.
“Is this thing on? Fuck, why are these so—oh! It’s on.” Percy backed away from the camera. His twenty-year-old frame was nearly foreign. His smile was broad, hair a wild mess. “Alright. At Mom’s request, this is a video based on my girlfriend and I. She wants to show it at our twenty year anniversary or something. That will be an interesting day.” On-screen Percy laughed. Little did he know, they wouldn’t make it to that anniversary.
They were married for nearly eleven years.
—
Seven months later, Annabeth Jackson died of stage III breast cancer.
After chemotherapy, numerous medications, and constant struggles, she simply couldn’t find it in her to fight anymore. She had written out her will a few weeks prior, when she could tell that her situation was becoming much worse.
Estelle was to care for Julian until he was at least eighteen, and all of her assets had been left to him to do as he pleased(with the exception of a sizable donation to Camp Half Blood). She was buried next to Percy in the cemetery just off the boundaries of camp.
—
Peace. This was the only thought that came to Annabeth’s mind when she opened her eyes. A warm arm wrapped securely around her waist, and she sighed contently. For the first time in many, many years, she was content.
Then she opened her eyes. An unfamiliar room surrounded her. It was painted blue, just like her own bedroom, but there were many professionally taken photos on the walls. Some contained closeups of guitars, others featured underwater shots of sealife.
Annabeth sat up, concerned. Something was wrong. She didn’t feel sick anymore, as if her cancer had completely vanished. In addition, she felt much more at peace with herself than she had the last time she woke.
“Fuck, where’s Julian?” She scrambled out of the bed and made to stand, but she fell to the floor, legs shaking violently. “What the hell—”
“Beth?” From behind her, an all too familiar voice rang in her ears. Slowly, ever so slowly, she stood. Eyes narrowed, expression slack. The peace she had previously felt quickly turned to disbelief, then panic, and finally, relief.
“Hey, Perce.” She offered a smile, unable to do much more.
Percy threw off the sheets, revealing mickey mouse sweats, and stumbled over to her. “Are you alright? You didn’t get hurt on the way down?” He took her face in his hands, examining her carefully.
“I’ve got to be dead, there’s no other way…” Annabeth trailed off. He nodded sadly.
“Yeah, we are. We’re in Elysium. It’s beautiful down here, you are going to love it.”
Unable to hold herself back any longer, she surged forward and captured her husband’s lips in a kiss, on to make up for the decade of time between their last meeting. Momentarily, Percy seemed to be a bit surprised, before he eased into the kiss and brought his hands up to tangle in her hair. When this realization hit, she pulled back abruptly.
“Do you have a mirror?”
He chuckled softly, running his fingers delicately through her hair. “C’mere.” He took her hands and led her to the other side of the room to stand in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror. “What do you think?”
Annabeth reached up and touched her hair carefully, swallowing hard. A side effect of chemotherapy had been the loss of her hair, forcing her to wear bandanas or beanies to keep her head warm. Then there was her overall appearance. She looked much younger than her forty-five years, at least fifteen years younger. Above that, she looked healthy again. Her eyes were no longer sunken, and her thighs were wider than her knees.
“I look like me again.” She said softly, a single tear escaping her eye. Percy wiped it away gently.
“You are always beautiful, no matter what, my love. But yes, you do look much healthier.” He kissed her shoulder. “Elysium is a place of healing and reward. Years ago, Beck told me that here, you are put in your most comfortable state of being.”
“Beckendorf is here?” Annabeth asked.
“Yeah, him and all the others who…died.”
They sat together at the edge of the bed in relative silence for a long time. They grasped each other’s hands tightly, afraid to let go. Percy looked nearly the same age as Annabeth, give or take a year. She studied her husband carefully, rememorizing every inch of him.
Eventually, Percy spoke. “How is Julian? Nico hasn’t sent me an update since he told me you were sick, and we aren’t really able to watch.”
Annabeth swallowed hard, guilt creeping into her conscience. “He’s doing the best he can. I made sure that Estelle would be the one to take care of him, and I left him the house and everything. That boy—he’s so much like you, Percy. He is so selfless and smart and he loves so hard.”
He smiled, sighing softly. “He'll be alright?”
She nodded after a moment of thought. “He didn't understand it when you died, I think that made it a little easier on him. It's not like I was the only person he had, but I don't think it will be any easier this time around.”
Percy wrapped his arms around his wife, pulling her close. “He's a strong kid. He can do it.” He stood, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Let's get you settled in, yeah?”
—