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“NEVER!”
Annabeth barely had time to react to the sight of her resurrected sister before a jagged bolt of lightning tore through the battle field. She gasped, wrenching her gaze away as the brilliance seared through her closed eyes.
“PERCY!” Grover screamed, and the terror in his voice caused her to whip her head back towards him, ignoring the stabbing pain it caused her shoulder.
She turned just in time to see the Son of Poseidon collapse to his knees, then fall to the ground, smoke billowing off of him. In her peripherals, she watched as Thalia fell as well, almost perfectly in sync with Percy.
It took several long seconds for Annabeth’s supposedly big, brilliant mind to finally catch up with what was going on:
Thalia was back. Thalia had just summoned lighting. Percy just got hit with lightning.
“No. No, no, no….” Annabeth whispered under her breath, her vision tunneling on her unconscious friends. She attempted to stumble towards them, but Grover tugged her back.
“Annabeth, you’re hurt, you need to stay still—”
“Grover,” she whimpered, piercing him with a desperate, but fierce look. She knew she didn’t need to say anything. He knew better than to stand between her and her friends right now.
Grover gulped, then nodded, aiding her as they made their way forward. Each step was agonizing, but she clutched her jacket around the arrow, stabilizing it best she could and forcing herself to keep going.
The battle crumbled around them. She saw out of the corner of her eye Luke’s army retreating in fear, the bang of lightning causing their already-thinning numbers to go into a frenzy as Camp Half-blood demigods continued to pelt them with arrows. She watched out of the corner of her eye Alison dragging an unconscious Luke down the hill, through the forest and out of sight.
A flurry of mixed emotions filled her at the sight of Luke, but she shoved them down. She had more important things to worry about.
The short distance felt like an eternity, but they were now in the clearing by the tree. To their left, Percy lay on the ground, flopped over on his back with smoke still steaming off of him. Clarisse, who had been closest to him, was already kneeling at his side. To their right lay Thalia, whose pulse was currently being checked by an Apollo kid, Kayla.
“She’s alive,” she breathed, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of the daughter of Zeus.
Annabeth stood there for a moment, unsure of where to go. Her heart longed to go to Thalia, whom she had dreamed of seeing for six years. But as she took in Clarisse’s concerned face, Annabeth knew where she needed to be.
She stumbled over to Percy’s side.
“Is he okay?” she grunted, dizzy with pain as she fell to her knees, jostling the arrow. Grover joined her, placing a steady arm on her back.
Clarisse’s eyes flicked up, then moved to her shoulder. She raised an eyebrow as if to say “look who’s talking”, but returned her attention to Percy.
“He’s alive,” she said, pressing her fingers to his neck. “But he’s out cold and his heartbeat is weak. If a normal human took that hit, they would be dead.”
Annabeth held out a shaking hand, placing it on his face. Blood was oozing from a cut on his nose, with more crusting around his lips. She clenched her jaw as she realized who had likely done this to him.
“Percy!”
Tyson appeared next to them, throwing his trident to the side as he panted, gazing down at his unconscious brother.
“He needs help. The… the fleece! Can we use the fleece?” he asked, his face twisted with child-like fear.
Annabeth looked up at where the fleece was pinned to the tree, now pulsing with golden light. As much as she wanted to agree with his idea, she knew that wouldn’t be possible.
“No,” Grover answered, though he didn’t look happy about it. “The fleece needs to stay there now. Forever. If we take it off, the camp will be exposed again. And who knows what might happen to…” they all glanced over at Thalia, who was starting to be lifted off the ground by two campers, slinging her arms around their shoulders.
“We need to get him to the infirmary,” Annabeth said quickly. They had wasted enough time already. “Grover, go the Big House and find some ambrosia. Tyson, can you carry—”
“We need to get you to the infirmary,” Clarisse argued, her eyes flashing with a protective concern that was… different, for Clarisse.
She shook her head, trying to hide another wince. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and with it, the pain was punishing her for shoving it down until this point.
“I know, I know. I’ll get it looked at. But we need to prioritize Percy, please…”
Thankfully, Tyson wasted no time following her instructions. Carefully, he lifted Percy into a bridle carry, making sure to rest Percy’s head against his breastplate instead of letting it loll.
Annabeth knew, logically, that Tyson was the younger brother, being a Cyclops that was barely eight years old. But in that moment, Tyson felt like the older one, Percy small and fragile in his arms.
Clarisse watched them go, starting to get to her feet. She jutted her chin towards Grover.
“Go on, goat boy. Help get the infirmary ready. I’ll take care of Ms. Arrow-wound over here.”
Grover nodded, then got up and darted, concern for his friend seeming to fuel his speedy steps.
Annabeth let herself get pulled to her feet by Clarisse, unable to hide the whine that left her lips when the shaft shifted against her punctured flesh. But her eyes never left Tyson, scared that another unseen monster would somehow grab them before they could get to safety.
They had won the battle. Thalia was alive. But Annabeth found herself unable to feel any kind of satisfaction right now.
“Hey. It’s okay,” Clarisse attempted to comfort, squeezing her uninjured arm as she guided her forward. “He’ll be okay.”
Annabeth hummed, worried if she agreed out loud it wouldn’t come true. So she walked forwards along the battle-torn grass, smoke from the lightning still swirling slowly up from the ground.
__
Annabeth wasn’t usually one for dramatic entrances. But with one arm incapacitated and panic clawing at her chest, kicking down the infirmary door seemed like the best option.
BANG.
“Where are Thalia and Percy?” she demanded.
Being treated in the Apollo cabin had taken an agonizingly long and painful time, and she was proud of the fact she had only cried into Clarisse’s arms one time, when the arrow was removed. Her shoulder now heavily bandaged and her arm in a sling, she held her ambrosia cracker in her hand, unwilling to eat it until she knew Thalia and Percy were ok.
The crowded infirmary room paused to look at her.
The most seriously wounded filled the six beds they had, and Annabeth zeroed in on where Grover and Tyson sat.
Grover’s eyes darted to her shoulder. “Annabeth! Are you ok—“
“How is he?” She interrupted, swiftly moving to what she now saw was Percy’s bedside.
Grover continued to stare at her for a quiet, tense moment, which was enough time for her heart to seize with fear.
“He’s… he’s alive. Our healing specialists have looked him over, but getting electrocuted with metal armor… it’s really bad.”
He looked back down at Percy, and Annabeth followed his gaze, taking the injured demigod in. Percy’s shirt has been replaced with bandages wrapped around his chest, covering what she assumed was a burn. Someone had wiped away the blood on his face, but the cuts remained, making the red contrast brightly against his pale skin.
All in all, he looked like death.
“And Thalia?” She asked, swallowing thickly. Tyson nodded to the bed next to them, where she saw the unconscious form of her sister, blankets pulled up over her chest. Annabeth still couldn’t believe she was real.
“She is ok. She is sleeping,” Tyson answered. “The healers said she will need time to recover and wake up, though. I guess being a tree for a long time makes you really tired.”
Annabeth breathed out a sigh of relief. At least that was one less thing to worry about, though she hated having to wait longer to hug her sister.
She turned her attention back to Percy, collapsing into a chair next to Tyson.
“Did you give him ambrosia?” She asked, studying Percy’s gaunt face with concern once again.
Grover nodded. “We gave him all that we could without him burning up. We’re going to need more, though, and with all the injured demigods, we’re already running low.”
“Here—“ she immediately thrust out her fist, dropping the ambrosia cracker she had saved into Grover’s hand.
Grover stared at it, his eyes wide.
“Annabeth… is this yours?”
She stayed silent.
He shook his head, and shoved it back at her. “You know I can’t take this.”
“Then what do we do??” She said, swiping it back with annoyance and dropping it on Percy’s sheets instead. She could feel her typically well-handled emotions starting to get the best of her. “Can’t a god help him?? Can Mr. D—“
“I did my best, kiddo.”
Annabeth jumped in her seat, wincing slighting at the movement. She turned to see Mr. D leaning against the back wall, looking tired.
She knew that somewhere, deep down, Mr. D cared about the campers. But it was still surprising to find him here.
He sighed. “Despite my earth-shaking godly powers and divine handsomeness, being the God of Wine means I’m not exactly renowned in the healing department.” He shrugged. “But like I said. I tried my best. Who you’re really gonna need is—“
“Chiron,” she finished. She had witnessed many times over the past six years his healing touch. If anyone could heal Percy, she knew he could.
“But… isn’t he still banned from camp?” Tyson asked, his hands fidgeting nervously.
Nobody answered, unsure of what to do.
Annabeth looked down at Percy. Hesitantly, she rested her hand over the bandage on his chest. The noise of the infirmary seemed to fade away as she focused on the touch.
Beneath her palm, his breathing stuttered, shallow and uneven. Even worse, his heartbeat was faint and unsteady.
Percy was dying. And though she has only known him for a year, she couldn’t imagine a world without him.
She stood up from her seat.
“I’m going to go make a call.”
—
The following night, Annabeth found herself tossing and turning under her covers. Though her recently-healed shoulder still ached, it wasn’t the pain that was keeping her awake.
She should be relieved. Her Iris message to Chiron had been met with good news— Chiron was already on his way back. Having heard about the battle, he had somehow convinced the gods to let him come back and help the camp. They were even allowing him a position at Camp Half-Blood once again, supposedly.
A few hours later, he had arrived, and one by one he had treated each of the demigods with his healing magic. Percy had been top of his list, and Annabeth felt as though her own wound was being healed as she watched Percy’s face relax under Chiron’s touch.
“Why isn’t he awake yet?” Tyson had asked, his one eye sad and doe-like, stroking Percy’s curls.
“He will need time to fully recover. We must continue to administer him ambrosia, but I am certain he will wake fully healed soon enough. Tyson, will you please go make a call to Sally? I’m sure she is beside herself with worry.”
Annabeth exhaled sharply, feeling like she had been punched in the gut. Oh gods, Sally… she had completely forgotten. How terrible was that?
Tyson nodded fervently, and with one last loving pat to Percy’s head, he swiftly exited the room.
Chiron’s gaze then shifted over to Thalia, a series of different emotions flickering across his face.
He turned to Annabeth and Grover.
“Alert me as soon as he wakes. I will need to speak with you all as soon as possible.”
After that, he had healed Annabeth’s wound, though she barely felt it, too in her head about what Chiron would possibly have to say to them.
By the look on his face, nothing good.
He had then convinced them to go get some rest, a task Annabeth was currently failing. No matter how hard she tried, Percy’s bloody, gaunt face couldn't seem to leave her head. Not being with him made her feel like he could die the instant he was out of her sight. Oh gods, what if he was dying right now? What if Chiron’s magic wasn't enough? What if—
She stopped herself, taking a deep breath. These thoughts weren’t logical. Percy was simply recovering, he was ok.
….but it couldn’t hurt for her to check, right?
Compromising with herself, Annabeth threw off her covers, and quickly pulled on her shoes. Quietly, as not to wake up the rest of the Athena cabin, she snuck out the exit, shutting the door gently.
Feeling only slightly crazy, she ran across the camp towards the Big House, the silence of night an odd contrast to the awful, chaotic battle only a day earlier. At the infirmary door, Annabeth opened it with her hands this time, something she was sure the sleeping patients would appreciate.
The room now held only four injured demigods in their beds and Kayla, the healer on observation duty. Kayla glanced up, irritation flickering before she recognized Annabeth and nodded in understanding.
She shot her a grateful look, then entered quietly. The room was dark, save for one dim lamp lit on a nightstand. Gentle moonlight shone through the window as well, casting a stripe of light across the bed covers.
Annabeth first went up to Thalia’s bedside. She took the opportunity to look at her sister closely for the first time. She seemed to appear peaceful and was resting well, a fact Annabeth thanked the gods for. She was exactly as Annabeth remembered— large black curls, thick eyeliner, a nose ring— it felt as if Thalia had jumped straight out of her memories and onto the bed.
Annabeth took her limp hand, squeezing it gently. She had so much to say to her when she woke.
Turning, she then sat down beside Percy’s bed, her uplifted spirit at seeing Thalia sinking back down into her shoes with worry.
At least he looked semi-better than before. Some color had returned to his face, and someone had tugged a new orange camp shirt over his bandaged chest. And yet, he slept on. Unlike Thalia, his expression looked slightly pained, his chest rising and falling with a tad more effort than it should have been.
Chiron’s magic had done the best it could. But at the end of the day, Percy had still been struck by lightning.
“I wish you’d wake up already, Seaweed Brain…” she sighed, taking a damp cloth from off his nightstand and dabbing at the black eye and cuts on his face.
She wasn’t sure where her nickname for him had come from, but to her, what had started as an insult was starting to become a term of endearment.
Something she’d never admit to him, of course.
“It’s been enough time that you can try to get him to drink some ambrosia…” Kayla whispered, having moved to Annabeth’s side without her noticing. The girl held out a bottle and straw, which she accepted gratefully.
Gently, she took Percy’s chin and opened his mouth, slipping the straw between his lips.
“Here you go, dummy…” she muttered, tilting his head and encouraging him to drink. Even unconscious, he seemed to get the message, and she was relieved to see him faintly swallow a few sips. She brushed a thumb under his lip when a drop spilled out, wiping it away.
This felt so much better than tossing in her bed, she decided. When he was here, right in front of her, there was proof that her nightmares weren’t real. He was safe. Thalia was safe.
When he was done drinking, she placed the bottle back on the nightstand. Kayla was now checking on Thalia, leaving her some space with Percy alone.
She hovered her hand out, hesitating for a moment, then stroked back some of his golden curls. It felt strange to be this close to him without feeling awkward. It was… kind of nice.
The little crush she had been harboring for him had been growing lately, but she forced herself to keep shoving it down. He wasn’t making it easier on her at all, not with him doing incredibly brave feats, making her laugh, saving her and saying crazy things like he’d burn down all of Olympus for her….
She groaned, sliding a hand over her face as she felt her cheeks get warm. What was she supposed to do with this boy?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door flying open, followed by a harsh whisper—
“Percy? Where’s Percy??”
Annabeth turned to see none other than Sally Jackson, panting as she leaned on the doorway. Her hair was unbrushed and she had bags under her eyes, stress etching lines in her face.
Annabeth supposed she hadn’t been the only one who’d been having a long, sleepless night.
She snapped her hand back from Percy’s face. “Sally? How did you—”
“Tyson called me and told me Percy had been hurt. Chiron met me at the border and gave me permission… oh my God, is that him?”
Annabeth watched as Percy’s mother hurried to his side, sitting opposite of her. Sally’s hand was quick to replace where Annabeth’s had previously been, touching his bruised skin gently.
Her heart squeezed as she saw Sally get teary eyed, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her son’s forehead.
“You always have to be the hero, don’t you?” she whispered, her gentle, accusing tone mixed with a hint of pride.
The mother then looked up at her. Annabeth expected her to ask questions about Percy’s health, or about the battle, but instead, she smiled.
“Thank you for staying by his side, Annabeth.”
Surprised, Annabeth automatically opened her mouth to argue that wasn’t true, as well as apologize that he had gotten hurt in the first place. But thinking better of it, she swallowed it instead, offering a shaky smile back.
“He told me he owes a lot of who he is to you, Ms. Jackson. I’ve never met a demigod quite like your son before.”
Sally hummed, her smile growing wider at her words. She brushed another thumb under the cut on Percy’s nose, sighing.
“What are we going to do with this boy?”
__
The next few days passed excruciatingly slowly.
The battle was cleaned up. Chiron reorganized the camp, including giving Clarisse a leadership position as reward for her successful quest. With Chiron’s help, the injured recovered quickly, until all the sick beds in the infirmary and Apollo cabin were empty.
All but two.
It took Annabeth everything she had to not spend 24/7 with Thalia and Percy…. though she was coming pretty close. At least once every couple hours she would poke her head in, praying they had awoken, but there was never any change.
Sally was there most of the time, having been given a place to sleep in the Big House, as well as Tyson. With each passing day and night she watched as Sally’s concern grew, Percy remaining unconscious far longer than any normal injured person should.
“I had a dream with Percy last night,” Tyson said the third morning, causing everyone’s heads in the infirmary to turn. “Dream” was quite the buzz word at Camp Half-blood, and it usually never met anything good. But Tyson was smiling.
“It was with Dad– er– Poseidon. He told me to go work in the undersea forges. And I saw him talk some more with Percy. I’m not sure what they said, but Percy seemed to be okay.”
The news helped ease Annabeth’s heart somewhat. At least his father seemed to be looking out for him.
Unlike some godly parents, she thought bitterly.
And then there was Thalia. Annabeth could practically feel the camp vibrating with anticipation for her to wake, the legend they had been told about now here at camp, in the flesh. Annabeth wondered why she was asleep so long as well, and why her state seemed to be mirroring Percy’s. She visited her often, squeezing her hand to let her know she wasn’t alone.
Later that afternoon, Annabeth saw Sally nodding off in her seat, and she nudged her gently.
“You should get some sleep. We can look after him for a bit.”
It took some more coaxing, but eventually Percy’s mother sighed in reluctant agreement. After giving Percy one last kiss on the head, she left for her bedroom.
With Tyson gone, preparing to leave for Posiedon’s castle, that left only Annabeth and Grover at Percy’s bedside. They sat in silence for a minute, watching Percy’s face.
With some amusement, Annabeth watched a bit of saliva exit Percy’s mouth, dampening his pillow as he snored quietly.
“Gross…” Grover giggled, scooting his chair closer to Percy and wiping it away with the cloth they kept at his bedside.
Annabeth was suddenly taken back to a year ago, when an unconscious blonde boy had been carried into this same infirmary. Chiron had put her on night watch duty, tasking her with giving him nectar. She’d been irritated then, stuck caring for a boy who’d already earned too much attention for killing a Minotaur.
She huffed a quiet laugh.
“The first thing I ever told him was that he drooled in his sleep,” she told Grover, who snorted in response.
It now felt so long ago. How would her 12-year-old self react, she wondered, to learn that annoying boy would become one of her best friends in the world? One that, a secret part of her hoped, could become more than friends?
12-year-old Annabeth would probably stab the nearest practice-dummy, she reasoned.
“Oh! I think he’s waking up!” Grover said, and Annabeth immediately looked to see Percy shifting slightly, his facial muscles scrunching as he dragged himself out of his long slumber.
Relief, like dozens of butterflies, fluttered in her chest at the sight. She walked up to the foot of his bed, crossing her arms.
”Good morning, Seaweed Brain,” she whispered, unable to keep the smile from her face as his eyes finally, finally opened.