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Characters: Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase
Date: Throughout August
Location: Various
Situation: Catchall log for these two dummies
Warnings/Rating: N/A for now

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She doesn't know how to handle this. It's part of the reason she shoves it down and doesn't think about it. This idea that Percy would give up the chance to save the world for her. She's grappled with it for months; she's dead without it, but what does that mean for everyone else? What will they think of her? (And her mother, who warned them both when they were barely fourteen?) It's overwhelming in a different way from the overwhelming in the idea that he'd willingly jump into hell after her. The latter was born of nothing but love and desperation, a need to stay together; the former is maybe something a little more selfish, on both their ends - because she can't deny the part of her that can't stand the idea of him not following her. Annabeth is irrevocably connected to Percy's fatal flaw; it's potentially put the entire world on a path towards Gaea's success, but she wouldn't change anything about how important he is to her, how important she is to him.

He leans towards her, leans into her, and it doesn't really matter how angry she is right now, because at the end of the day, when they need each other, they need each other and that continues to trump everything. But she can't refute him. She can't tell him the choice wasn't risky, wasn't dangerous, for reasons beyond just the nature of Tartarus itself. Gaea wants them, and they're falling right into her domain.

Instead of words, one of her arms wraps around him, holding him; her other hand stays in his, and even if his grip is tight enough to hurt, hers starts to match. She doesn't bother trying to hold back her own tears at this point, but they're silent and she's still, even as Percy shakes against her.

Is this what he meant, when he said he felt useless? There's nothing she can do. There's nothing either of them can do, because she knows they'd both repeat it. She knows if the situation happened all over again, they'd both still be hellbound.

There's a small voice in the back of his mind that points out that this is pretty much pathetic, and Percy just sort of lets that wash over him. There's no energy in him right now to fight that off.

Annabeth's arm comes around him, and he doesn't even need her to deny it, to tell him that everything will be okay. He just needs that, her presence, the confirmation that even though he's an idiot and possibly the worst person in the world, she's still there with him. He just kind of sags against her, into her, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, and it's definitely clear he's still crying. "I didn't mean to take it out on you, I didn't mean--" to tell you. He just shakes his head mutely, not wanting to get into that again. "Annabeth, the last thing I want is to hurt you."

That's the crux of the matter, the reason why he's struggled with this for so long. The only option for not hurting her was keeping it all from her.

She doesn't respond right away. I didn't mean to tell you is clear, but she'd have probably figured it out eventually anyway. And he still hasn't told her Hera's warning. She's torn between another upswing of anger and the need to just keep holding him.

Tartarus is theirs and theirs alone. The consequences could be shared - that's at the core of this while argument, this whole thing - but it's the two of them dealing with it right now, because it's the only thing they can do in the interim. How does someone contend with the fact that they might be a piece in the end of the world?

But it's not Percy hurting her. Not really. It's everything else making him this way. Annabeth is smart enough to recognize all the outside forces involved - the gods and Gaea and Arachne - but in the wake of their tension and the yelling she can't help dwelling on her own part. Watching herself taunt Arachne. Maybe he potentially threw the world over for her, but he wouldn't have needed to if she hadn't gotten caught up in her own self importance, her own hysterical self-satisfaction.

Maybe it's been lingering in her mind a lot more than she let on.

Unintentionally, a choking sound escapes her. She buries her own face against his shoulder, trying not to start shaking alongside him. "I don't want to hurt you either," she gets out, her voice suddenly a lot more hoarse than it was before. Her fault. Her failures. Success in finding the Athena Parthenos ripped out from under her by her own mistakes. She already has hurt him, too, even if he wouldn't agree or acknowledge it. "But you - you need to stop hiding things from me."

And really. Who else can they take it out on?

His arm wraps around her as well when she makes that choked sound, pulling her close. At the end of the day, no matter what they've been through (what they've put each other through), this is what matters.

He can't bear this on his own. That's what he's been trying to do, and he just - can't. But he doesn't know if he can bear telling her everything, either.

You need to stop hiding things from me. He's going to have to try.

"I really did forget," he manages to say. "It was just - it was Hera. She talks crap all the time. She was saying things like - I don't know, something about me being a loose canon, a distraction. I was trying to drown her at that point, I wasn't really listening. But I think she - I think she knew what was going to happen. But she was such a jerk about warning me, I didn't even think about it until lately, when I started - the nightmares--"

He's saying it all into her shoulder still; it's easier to tell her when he can hold on to her, be sure that she's there with him. "Tartarus has just been so - Tartarus, it's been impossible to think about anything else. Asti getting better was like - it made space to start thinking about other things. Like what that choice meant. I didn't even think of it as a choice. It's not one. There isn't another decision I could have made." His voice breaks in that last sentence, because he flat out doesn't know how to deal with the kind of person that makes him.

Edited 2013-08-11 08:05 (UTC)

Hera. Hera Hera Hera, Annabeth always finds herself frustrated beyond belief with the goddess, but right now it's more than just frustration. It's close to loathing, it's an angry ferocity, and the moment they get back, she doesn't care how much cow shit she'll have to avoid. She's going to punch Hera in the face, for everything she's done to the both of them. For the sake of the world, she'd said. Apparently it didn't matter what happened between then. A more rational side of her might even agree (and that kind of scares her), but nothing about this is black and white.

"Hera is a witch," she mutters, but all that feeling comes out in her tone. "I don't care what she says or what she does. When this is done, I'm not going to let her do anything like this to us again."

Because she can imagine what the queen of the gods might have said at this point. She'd never been Annabeth's biggest fan to begin with; if she had any idea what was coming, warning Percy against the choice would have been an easy, almost dismissive thought. It's not surprising, not really - but it still cuts through her and leaves an ache in her chest.

But something else. "Nightmares -?" They've both been having them, to the point where a certain level of them had gotten almost normal. "Last night. When you got up." She'd had a feeling it was more than just getting a glass of water, but she wanted to believe everything was okay. Almost needed to.

Her arms around him tighten when Tartarus comes back up. There's a part of her that wants to pull away and look at him, but she can't; she needs to keep holding him as much as he does. His decision to fall into Tartarus with her wasn't a choice, not for him, no matter how heavy it appeared to be, and she's long realized that. The only way he wouldn't have fallen is if he hadn't gotten to her in time, if the Argo II hadn't breached the cavern before Arachne pulled her down. He was doomed for Tartarus the moment she was.

So much for crying in silence. She breathes in, catching her breath sharply with it. And then before she can stop it, she apologizes. "I'm sorry," she chokes again, feeling like a sudden weight in his arms. Her fault, her fault, her fault, she can't stop the blame from spinning through her mind right now, not when he's blaming himself over it, too (and he shouldn't, he shouldn't be going through this self doubt). Not when Hera apparently saw it coming. Not when his voice breaks and Tartarus is breaking them already. "Percy, I'm so sorry."

It doesn't matter what he might say. She fell first, and if she hadn't - maybe they wouldn't be a mess on the floor right now. She's not sure she'll ever be able to let that go, and right now it's slamming into her full force.

He's going to respond to the first parts of what she says, he really is. But he opens his mouth and for a brief second he thinks that he made that sound, because it'd make more sense right now with how wrecked he is. But a beat passes and she's apologising, and Percy's moving before she's even finished, lifting his head and taking her face in both his hands, making sure she's looking at him.

"Don't," he chokes out. "This is not your fault, none of this is your fault. I don't care what you said to that stupid spider, if what happened was that big of a punch to her ego, maybe she shouldn't have been taking out her grudge on the gods against their kids."

He leans forward, pressing his forehead to hers like he can somehow give her his absolute belief in her. "That's what this is about, it's what it's all about. Our stupid, arrogant family that thinks their pride is more important than the end of the world." He can't tell whose tears are whose at this point, they're so close together. "We're seventeen, Annabeth. This shouldn't be our fight, we shouldn't even have a fight, but we're in a place even the gods won't even go because they're more afraid of Zeus and they love their own power more than they care about us."

His voice breaks again from the fountain of words that comes pouring out of him. It's a realisation that's been both a long time coming, but could only have been brought on by Annabeth and his absolute need for her to not blame herself for this. Percy couldn't do this for himself, but he can say it for her. "It's not your fault, it's not my fault, it's not just a - a thing that happened. They practically took us by the throat and tossed us in the hole, Annabeth."

Edited 2013-08-11 09:35 (UTC)

It's probably the opposite of his intention, but everything he does and says just makes her start crying harder. When he holds her face, her hands slide to clutch at his arms. She's supposed to be helping him. But maybe all they can really do for each other is just be there. It's the only thing they have control over in this situation.

"I know. I know we have the gods to blame. I know we wouldn't be there without their selfishness." There's a but hanging in the air while she just looks at him, her grip on his arms tightening. Everything, herself still included, just feels so heavy right now, maybe extra heavy for how much she's been pushing it aside.

Her voice breaks on the words. "It is my fault, too. My hubris wrecked that cavern, Percy." And she wants to believe him so badly otherwise, but she can't. He wouldn't have needed to jump if she hadn't gotten carried away, gods forcing it all on them or not. Maybe fatal flaws were damaging in ways beyond just the potential to send you straight for the Underworld. "I know they threw us down there, but we did it to ourselves, too."

They're not words of reassurance in the slightest, but between his own realization and the way her mind's tread the last few months, it comes out anyway. Her guard over the situation is completely shattered, and she hates so much about what's happening right now. Everything about the gods he's told her is true, and she believes that much; one war for their sake wasn't enough, the gods had to rip apart lives in preparation for another, in which they had even less participation. But she can't stop watching the events unfold, and seeing her fatal flaw in action on repeat has hammered it home in the worst way.

"No." He just shakes his head as she keeps blaming herself, like every fibre of his being is just denying what she's saying. He doesn't believe that. He can't; it's just not in him. "Arachne wrecked that cavern. And she dragged you in after her."

We're going to get through this, he wants to say, but the words stick in his throat. It's taken six months, but even Percy has reached the point where he doesn't know if they will, where he can't say it because he doesn't know if it's true.

It's such a small, simple faith. Something that's always seemed like the most obvious thing in the world to him. Losing it shouldn't feel like having the ground ripped from underneath him, like falling over again.

But the words just won't come. He chokes on a sob and kisses her, brief and messy and desperate. "I love you. So much, I love you so much."

It's all he can offer her, right now.

"Because of me!" Her voice raises a little when she says it. She's not sure if it's better or worse that he won't acknowledge or see it himself. "Percy, I had her." There were so many things she could have done differently, but she hadn't, and Arachne pulled her down because of it.

Annabeth clings to him, shaking as she sobs against him. Tartarus crawls and creeps through them both, even when they don't realize it. It's been months since she saw it, since Percy experienced it, and they can't do anything about it as long as they're stuck here with more and more time stretching between it. The pressure of it won't stop building up.

And right now, she sort of feels like collapsing with it. She's pretty sure he does, too. No amount of optimism feels like it'll work.

She kisses him back, the same way, choking on her words. "I love you, too." And then she kisses him again, roughly, desperately, lingering a little longer with a salty taste and the need to just be close. "I love you, Percy," and there's so much in the words, gratitude, fear, hurt, absolute love itself. It's the only thing she knows for sure right now: how much she loves him and how much he loves her.

"No." It comes out forcefully this time, but it's all he can say against her right now. He wasted all his words getting mad at the gods, the only thing left in him to do is to deny what she's saying.

Percy hands move from her shoulders to her waist, and when he moves so his back is against the wall again, he brings her with him, tugging her into his lap as he kisses her back a little harder, needier. Both arms wrap tightly around her, and even if he's shaking, it's pretty clear he's not about to let her go any time soon. "I'm not leaving you." And maybe that's part of the problem, but right now it's the only solution. "We just have to stay together, okay?"

Annabeth wants and needs to believe him, but she can't. He must know, deep down, but he's being so Percy over it. She opens her mouth to argue again, but she can't do that either. Her energy is gone and she's too tired to be stubborn anymore, too tired to argue. Letting it slide for now won't do any favors in the long run, but she can't; she's not agreeing with him, at least.

He shifts, pulling her towards him, and she doesn't fight against it; she pulls herself closer as he kisses her, and she returns it, just as needy, if not a little moreso.

"Okay," she replies, hoarsely and appreciatively as the word catches. As long as we're together. And she lets herself get caught up in the selfishness of it, because if she doesn't, she really will fall apart. "We will. Together."

It's their mantra, and as much as it's hurting them, they need it all the same. He has no intention of letting her go, but she has no intention of letting him.

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