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Piper was the first to drop by.

Sitting on her bunk in the Argo II, Annabeth struggled to adjust to her surroundings. She had only been back from Tartarus for a few hours, and too much of her current reality felt like a beautiful dream. Percy was safe, sleeping in his own bunk. She was safe. She was reunited with her friends, who were also still alive and well. The Argo II was still in one piece. The Doors of Death had been closed, so her and Percy’s miserable crawl through the Pit had been worth it. Bob and Damasen’s sacrifices had been worth it. 

It was all just too good to be true.

Still damp from her shower, Annabeth sat frozen in place. She tried to inhale deeply to ground herself, but her lungs felt like they had been scoured with a wire sponge, and each breath rattled painfully. Instead, she pushed her bare soles against the coolness of the floor, and stroked the soft fabric of her bedsheets. Coolness, softness, security; all feelings she had been without in Tartarus. All signs that she was safe now. Well, as safe as she could ever be. Annabeth felt cold droplets of water dripping on the exposed flesh of her forearms and thighs. She had changed into a comfy old t-shirt and shorts, having peeled off the clothes she had worn ever since that fateful day in Rome. The clothes were beyond saving, and she had half a mind to toss them overboard symbolically, but she didn’t think that Percy would appreciate her polluting the ocean like that.

Percy.

Annabeth fought back a wave a panic. She hadn’t been without him ever since the fall, and even though she knew he was safely tucked away in his bed, she felt afraid to be alone. They had guarded each other so fiercely in Tartarus, and Annabeth had to resist the urge to stand at his door now, drakon bone sword in hand. She also felt exposed, sitting there without him watching her back. Annabeth pressed her palms deeper into her mattress and took a few shuddering breaths, trying to relish how the air passed through her airways without scalding them. But every moment of normalcy was just a reminder of how terrible Tartarus had been; she could not draw the comparisons without having to remember the place. Annabeth wished she could wash her memories down the drain along with the grime and monster dust she had scrubbed from her body. She wondered if she would ever feel clean again.

The longer she sat, the more the darkness rose, creeping in and clouding her peripheral vision. Another jolt of panic surged through her as she remembered the curse of Polyphemus, and how she had been blind for those terrifying minutes. Annabeth shook her head, trying to rid her mind of the memory. More water droplets rained down around her. 

Annabeth decided that sitting still was making her an easy target for terror, and that she needed to do something. Why had she come back into her room in the first place? She had left the bathroom with the intention of doing something, but had then gotten lost in her own thoughts. She had showered, changed, and then…what was it? Annabeth touched her fingers to her temple as she thought, and as her fingertips found her wet curls, she suddenly remembered: she needed to brush her hair. 

The prospect filled her with dread. Her hair was a mess at the best of times, and this was certainly the worst of times. Annabeth sighed, but the long exhale quickly turned into a coughing fit. When she caught her breath, she stood up and walked over to her desk. Her brush was still in the first draw on the right, exactly where she’d left it the morning of her quest. She tried not to think about the girl who had left it there. As she moved to stand in front of the mirror, she tried not to think about herself at all. The reflection she saw was not one she recognised: it was a ghost, a vague outline of a person. Her eyes were sunken and dull, with dark bags hanging beneath them. Her cheekbones stood out sharply, and her lips were cracked and bleeding. Even her complexion, usually tanned and bright, had been taken from her. She was somehow both pale and blotchy, like she had been sunburned while living underground. She looked like death. Humourlessly, she wondered if the Death Mist had ever really gone away.

Annabeth squeezed her eyes shut and took some more tentative breaths. Now was not the time to fall apart. She just needed to get this damn brush through her hair.

And she tried - she really did. But her arms were aching, already over-exerted from her battle at the Doors of Death, and from washing her hair earlier. Each pass of the brush hurt, and she only seemed to uncover more matts than she was able to resolve. It was hopeless. It felt as hopeless as the fall. Annabeth felt tears welling up in her eyes, but she forced herself not to cry. It was just hair. She could cut it all off. She nearly reached for her sword, something in her bucked against the idea. Annabeth had never been overly concerned with her appearance, and she had a complex relationship with her hair, but she couldn’t imagine being without it. She was desperate to feel like herself again, and giving herself a buzz cut would make her feel more like a stranger in the mirror. But, then again, she had no strength left to deal with it.

Annabeth was so lost in the spiral that she didn’t hear the first few knocks at the door. Eventually the knocking grew a little more insistent, and Annabeth turned in surprise. She was still jumpy. 

“Who is it?” Annabeth called, wincing at how broken her voice sounded.

“It’s just me,” Piper’s voice came through the door, melodic and comforting. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Annabeth said weakly.

Piper stepped inside and softly closed the door behind her. When she turned back to Annabeth, her eyes were full of sympathy. Annabeth usually hated being looked at like that, but her defences were currently in shambles.

“Hey,” Piper said carefully. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I’m good,” Annabeth said reflexively.

Piper raised an dubious eyebrow. “You’re good?”

Annabeth realised how absurd that statement was. She had just crawled out of Tartarus. No, she was not good. It was such a stupid idea that she couldn’t help but let out a slightly maniacal laugh.

“No,” Annabeth said between giggles. “Not at all.”

Someone else might have been concerned, but Piper had come to know Annabeth well over the last six months. They had spent a lot of time laughing and crying together, and often the lines between the two were blurred. So Piper joined her in laughing. 

The laughing was abruptly ended when Annabeth doubled over coughing. Piper rushed to her side, her kaleidoscope eyes a rainbow of sorrow. “Oh, Annabeth,” she said, taking her arm gently.

When Annabeth had recovered herself, she discovered her cheeks were wet with tears. When had she started crying? The brush was still firmly clasped in her hand - muscle memory from days of reaching for a knife that was no longer there.

At some point, Piper guided Annabeth to her bunk and sat her down. When Annabeth could breathe a little more evenly, Piper asked, “What can I do? Right now, how can I help?”

Annabeth nearly laughed again, but she dared not risk her lungs. Instead, she stared at the brush in her hand. Annabeth Chase hated asking for help, but right now, this was a task that felt all too Herculean. 

“My hair,” Annabeth said quietly. “Could you please brush it for me?”

Piper nodded. She was already inspecting Annabeth’s knotted curls and trying to separate a few with her fingers. “Of course,” she said. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom and grab some conditioner. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Annabeth barely registered her leaving or returning, but at some point she zoned back into reality. She was sat cross-legged on the floor, her back against the bunk where Piper sat behind her. Piper was going through her hair in sections, working in conditioner and then painstakingly brushing out matts. It was slow going, but Piper didn’t complain. As she worked, she hummed an old Cherokee song. Annabeth didn’t know if it was Charmspeak or just the warmth of the tune, but she felt herself growing calmer with each passing moment.

They had been sat for a while when Piper suddenly stopped humming and said, “You know, I’ve always loved your hair.”

Annabeth still felt a little dreamy from the music, and from the soothing feeling of Piper’s fingers in her scalp. “Yeah?”

“I love curly hair. I think it’s so beautiful. I always wanted curly hair,” Piper said. She spoke so casually, as if they were just two girls swapping secrets at a sleepover.

“I always hated my hair,” Annabeth admitted. Her eyes were half-shut and her words were a little woozy.

“How come?” Piper asked, separating a clump of blonde curls with her fingers.

“No one takes blondes seriously. And curly hair is a pain in the ass.”

Piper smiled. “Everyone always wants what they can’t have.”

Annabeth hummed in agreement. 

“Have you ever straightened it?” Piper asked.

Annabeth shook her head. “Too much effort. Plus, it feels like faking.”

Piper moved a finished strand to one side and begin working on another matt. “Faking how?”

“Like everyone would know it’s not me, and that I’m just pretending. It would only draw attention I don’t want. I feel the same way about makeup.”

“I know what you mean,” Piper said. “Which probably makes me a crappy daughter of Aphrodite.”

“No way,” Annabeth said with conviction. “You’re the best of the best.”

There was another knock at the door, and Annabeth nearly jumped out of her skin. Piper placed a calming hand on her shoulder and asked, “Who is it?”

“Hazel,” Hazel said through the door. “Is it okay if I join?”

When the answer was yes, Hazel stepped into the room, holding a steaming cup in one hand and a small bottle in the other. She looked down at Annabeth with a small smile and said,

“I made you some tea.”

It was such a simple gesture, but the sweetness of it made Annabeth’s eyes water. “Thanks,” she said.

Hazel crouched down carefully and handed Annabeth the cup. “It’s chamomile and lavender, with a little dash of nectar. My own recipe…that I just invented.”

Annabeth smiled at her friend. “Sounds amazing.”

And it was. Even just inhaling the steam was a balm to her raw airways. Annabeth took a tentative sip and savoured the warmth blooming in her chest. With the addition of the nectar, she barely registered the other herbs. It tasted like Sally Jackson’s blue cookies.

“I also brought some nail polish,” Hazel said, holding up the bottle. It was a shimmery aquamarine colour, and Annabeth had no idea when Hazel had managed to acquire it. “I thought you could use a little self care after…everything.”

It was such a ridiculous idea, to think that any of the hell of Tartarus could be kept at bay by some sparkly nail polish, or that this was any kind of consolation. But Annabeth knew that was not how Hazel intended it. It was a tangible way that she could care for her, as much as any of them could right now.

“That’s so sweet,” Annabeth said, her voice fuller and more whole after the soothing drink. “But I think my fingernails are wrecked.”

Hazel inspected Annabeth’s nails, and yes, they were a disaster, worn down to rough stubs. But Hazel was undeterred. “Nothing a little polish can’t help,” she assessed. 

Annabeth held out her left hand and Hazel opened the bottle. The chemical smell was affronting, but strangely comforting. It wasn’t close to anything she had smelled in Tartarus, it was too manmade and synthetic. Usually nail polish and acetone gave her a headache, but right now she appreciated the fumes. They were a reminder that the world around her was very, very mortal.

Hazel held Annabeth’s hand gently and painted her nails with deft precision. The trio lapsed into silence for a while, and Piper returned to her humming. Annabeth’s heart ached with love for these girls. She had never been one to have many female friends, but Piper and Hazel were like sisters to her now. The way they cared for her so gently and found ways to help her feel more human made Annabeth feel a surge of gratitude that she hoped one day she would be able to repay.

“We missed you,” Hazel said suddenly, her eyes still fixed on Annabeth’s hand.

“Yeah,” Piper said, abandoning her song to chime in. “We really needed another girl around here. Keeping the boys in check was a pain in the ass.”

Annabeth cracked a smile, ignoring how it hurt her chapped lips. “Oh yeah?”

Hazel looked up, the mournful look in her eyes now replaced by mirth. “I love Jason, Leo, and Frank, but boys are so…gross.”

“Seriously, they suck at cleaning up after themselves. I’m talking crumbs everywhere.”

“Right! And muddy shoe prints. Plus they burp and fart constantly.”

The look of disgust on Hazel’s face made Annabeth laugh. This time, she didn’t hack up a lung. Hazel’s tea must have helped. 

“We really needed you to help us keep them in check,” Piper summarised, squeezing more conditioner into her fingers. 

“Yeah, they behave better when you’re around,” Hazel added.

“I have that effect on people,” Annabeth said. The other girls laughed.

Annabeth asked the girls to tell her more about what had happened while she and Percy were gone. The crew had given the official version of events, but Annabeth wanted all the little details, especially of the developing relationships between Hazel and Frank, and Piper and Jason. Hazel and Piper happily obliged. Annabeth let the excited chatter distract her.

Hazel had finished Annabeth’s left hand and was making progress on her right, when the door creaked open again. Annabeth’s head snapped in the direction of the noise - why was her bedroom suddenly the number one hangout spot? - but when she saw who was standing there, her heart constricted.

Percy was hovering in the doorway, clearly not expecting to see all three girls in Annabeth’s room. His hair was dishevelled and he seemed half-asleep. No, half-dead. The beautiful sea green of his eyes was dull and red-rimmed, and he looked gaunt, his skin a stark pale against his dark hair. His pyjamas hung more loosely from his frame than they should. He looked like a ghost of himself.

“Hey,” Annabeth said, her tone surprised. “I thought you were asleep.”

Percy smiled weakly. “I was.”

Annabeth didn’t need him to spell it out for her. “Nightmare?”

Percy was still standing in the doorway, uncertain of himself. “Yeah…But, uh, if you have company-”

“Don’t be silly, Seaweed Brain. Come in,” Annabeth said, extending her hand.

Percy hesitated, his eyes flitting between all three girls. “I don’t wanna intrude.”

Piper and Hazel both shook their heads and demanded he join them. Eventually, Percy slipped inside and sat down next to Annabeth on the floor. He looked exhausted, resting his head on Annabeth’s shoulder. Despite his haunted state, Annabeth was relieved to have him next to her. She didn’t realise how much she had missed him.

“You guys got a whole salon going on in here?” Percy asked, watching Hazel in fascination.

“A little spa treatment is good for soul,” Piper said with a smile. 

“Wow. Girls are nice,” Percy said wistfully. 

“That’s why we’re the best,” Hazel said.

Percy didn’t argue. Maybe he saw the truth in what Hazel was saying. Or maybe he just recognised he was outnumbered 3:1.

“What have the guys done for you since you got back, Percy?” Piper asked.

“They told me to take a shower because they could smell me from miles away. Harsh, but probably accurate.”

“To be fair, Frank can probably smell anyone from miles away if he’s shifted into the right animal,” Piper mused, earning laughs from the others.

Annabeth felt a little sad for Percy, though. She knew the guys cared about him in their own boyish way, but they certainly weren’t giving him the same soft treatment that she was currently receiving. And she knew how much Percy loved physical affection. So she slipped her hand into Percy’s. He squeezed it gratefully.

After a beat of silence, Percy raised his head and watched as Piper worked to untangle Annabeth’s hair. “Damn, that looks painful.”

“It’s not so bad,” Piper said assuringly, which Annabeth realised was more for her benefit than Percy’s. “In fact, we’re almost done, Miss Chase.”

“Really? Piper, you’re a miracle worker.”

Percy was absent-mindedly twisting one of Annabeth’s dematted curls around his fingers. She would never admit this, but another reason she would never cut her hair is because she knew how much Percy loved playing with it. “It was that bad, huh?”

“I was about thirty seconds from cutting it all off,” Annabeth admitted.

Percy exhaled a laugh through his nose. “You’d still be cute bald, but I’m glad Piper saved your hair.”

Hazel and Piper saw “Aww” in unison.

Percy put his head back on Annabeth’s shoulder and closed his eyes. “I know, I know, I’m adorable,” he said sleepily. 

Annabeth rolled her eyes. Before she could tease him, Hazel proudly announced, “Your nails are done!”

Annabeth inspected her nails, and they were definitely a lot prettier than they were before. “Thanks, Haze. This is a huge improvement.”

Hazel beamed at her. Then, she turned to Percy, her eyebrows raised in mischief. “Percy Jackson, do you want your nails done?”

Percy’s eyes flew open. “What?”

Annabeth and Piper giggled, but Hazel carried on. “You just said girls are nice. So I’m offering you girl treatment.”

Percy looked like he was short-circuiting. Annabeth knew that look; it meant he was searching for something dumb to say. Seemingly giving up, he asked, “Is that blue polish?”

“Yessir.”

Percy extended his hand theatrically. “Go on, Levesque. Do your worst.”

Hazel laughed and made an excited sound. Annabeth marvelled at the scene. Once upon a time, watching another girl take Percy’s hand would have made her sick with jealousy. Today, it warmed her heart. She knew that Hazel and Percy had a bond like siblings. She also knew that Percy was hers. He had proven that enough times in the Pit.

So instead of seething, Annabeth watched fondly as Hazel took the polish brush to Percy’s nails. “Quit fidgeting,” Hazel scolded him at one point.

“Sorry, I’ve never been in a salon before,” Percy replied.

Piper was passing the brush through Annabeth’s hair, gently massaging it into her scalp and then running it down her golden curls, which were damp from conditioner. The sensation made Annabeth’s head tingle pleasantly.

“Guess what,” Piper said.

“What?” Annabeth asked.

“Your hair is officially unknotted.”

“Thank you so much!” Annabeth exclaimed, reaching up to run her fingers through her hair and feel it for herself. Relief flowed through her as her fingers went from root to ends with no resistance. She nearly cried again. If only Piper could always be there to brush her hair. Annabeth was immensely grateful, but she knew that left to its own devices, by morning it would be a mess all over again. Annabeth didn’t have the mental energy to deal with that, so she said,

“I don’t want to abuse your services Pipes, but do you think you could-”

“French braid your hair for you?” Piper finished for her.

“Please,” Annabeth said. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” Piper said gently. “It’ll give you a few days to not think about it.”

“Wow, girl hair is complicated,” Percy observed. 

“Not all of us want to look like we just got out of bed,” Annabeth teased.

“Hey,” Percy protested weakly. “I did just get out of bed.”

Piper was already separating strands of Annabeth’s hair. “Do you want one braid or two?” Piper asked.

“You should do one,” Percy put in.

“You’re only saying that because your first crush was Lara Croft,” Annabeth said.

“Okay, I regret telling you that,” Percy groaned, a flush creeping up his throat.

The girls laughed. Percy turned his face so that it was buried in Annabeth’s shoulder. 

“One braid it is,” Piper said solemnly.

“Hey, why are you feeding into his fantasies?” Annabeth demanded.

“Because I am my mother’s daughter. And also because I think Percy could probably stand to catch a break.”

“Thanks, Pipes. You’re a real one,” Percy said, his voice muffled by the fabric of Annabeth’s shirt.

They all dissolved into laughter again, but it was ended when Percy began wheezing and hacking, the same way Annabeth had done before. The smile vanished from Annabeth’s lips.

“Here,” she said, picking up the cup of tea that Hazel had brought her. It was now half empty (No, she corrected herself, Half full) and had cooled a lot, but she passed it to Percy anyway. He gulped it down, and soon his breathing was less ragged. 

“Good stuff,” he said, setting the cup down next to him. “Tasted like my mom’s brownies.”

Annabeth could feel Piper gathering her hair and twisting it, her fingers nimble and quick. The braid would be secure but not overly tight - a balance that Annabeth always struggled to find when she did her own hair. She suddenly remembered being 13 and sitting with Selina Beauregard, the older girl giving words of advice as Annabeth frowned at her reflection and tried to tie her hair into neat braids. Selina had been a patient teacher, but Annabeth had never quite managed to get as good at french braiding as she was. Selina had told her that she needed to slow down instead of trying to do her hair in the shortest time possible. Annabeth had argued that there were more important things she could be doing with her time. Selina had just smiled in that big-sisterly way of hers.

Annabeth really missed that smile.

Piper tied off the end of Annabeth’s braid and patted her shoulder. “You’re all done, Miss Croft.”

Annabeth smiled, reaching up to feel the braid. Piper had left out a couple of small ringlets at the front, which were tightly coiled from the moisture of the conditioner. Annabeth didn’t need to see her reflection to know that she looked a lot more human.

“Thank you, Piper. I’m really grateful,” Annabeth said, touching her free hand to Piper’s.

“It’s the least I could do,” Piper said. 

Hazel pulled back from Percy’s hand and screwed the lid back onto the nail polish bottle. “All done, Mr Jackson,” she said.

Percy opened his eyes and held up his hands to regard his nails. He slowly cracked a crooked smile. “Sick,” he said. “Now the last thing my enemies will see is some blue razzle dazzle.”

The girls laughed. Even though Piper and Hazel had finished their tasks, they made no movements to leave. Annabeth was glad.

Annabeth could also feel Percy leaning more heavily against her. He was clearly beyond exhausted. She turned her head to where he was resting on her shoulder and said, “Hey, why don’t you lie down?”

Percy grew tense. “I don’t wanna…I mean, unless you want me to go-”

“No, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth said gently, patting her lap. “Right here.”

Percy didn’t argue or try to make a witty comment about Annabeth inviting him into her lap, so clearly his brain was fried. Instead, he lowered himself down so that his back was on the floor and his head nestled between Annabeth’s crossed legs. He was facing upwards with a bleary expression. Annabeth started softly running her fingers through his hair, the blue of her nails standing out like aquamarine stars against his dark hair.

“This takes me back to your curse of Achilles days,” Annabeth reminisced, a smile playing on her lips.

Percy let out a short chuckle. “Oh yeah.”

“What do you mean?” Hazel asked. 

“The curse of Achilles made me real tired,” Percy explained. Annabeth noticed how he drawled his words a little in a very New York way. He tended to do that when he was stressed, angry, or tired. 

“It’s true,” Annabeth said. “He was always napping. Or eating. Or sleep-eating, somehow.”

Percy held up his palms. “It’s a legit thing. You can ask Chiron.”

“Yeah, but you always wanted to nap on me specifically. I couldn’t get anything done,” Annabeth reminded him, smiling at the memory.

Percy’s cheeks went pink. “For medical reasons. Obviously.”

Hazel and Piper caught each other’s eyes and suppressed smiles. Annabeth kept caressing Percy’s hair. His eyes were fluttering closed, but he seemed to be fighting against sleep. Annabeth could relate to that.

“It’s really nice, seeing you guys together,” Hazel said suddenly. “I feel like when we met Percy we really only knew half of him, because you weren’t there.”

Annabeth realised Hazel was directing this at her, and she felt her heart melt a little.

Suddenly, Hazel laughed loudly, making her brown curls bounce. “Sorry,” she said, “I just remembered. One night, when we were heading to Alaska, Percy and I were talking. About you, Annabeth. Me and Frank kept asking him questions about his old life to try to help with his memories. Anyway, he kept going on about how beautiful you are-”

“Uh oh,” Percy groaned, putting his hands on his face. “I know where this is goin’.”

Hazel’s eyes were sparkling with amusement. “Seriously, going on and on, so eventually I asked, “What does she look like?””

Hazel paused to giggle. Annabeth felt herself grinning with anticipation. 

“And he sits there and goes all quiet for like, a solid minute, completely focused. And then finally he says, “Blonde? Curly hair, I think. Grey eyes…probably.” And that was literally all he knew.”

Annabeth and Piper fell about laughing. Percy was still hiding behind his hands, fidgeting in Annabeth’s lap. When the laughter died down, Percy said,

“First of all, Hazel, you have betrayed me.” Percy paused and then gestured towards Annabeth’s face. “Second of all, was I wrong?”

Hazel swatted his arm and smiled at Annabeth. “You were right.”

Annabeth was nearly as red as Percy, but she took his hand and kissed it. “I’ll take it.”

“So long as we’re embarrassing both of you-” Piper started with a smirk.

“Um, who said that?” Annabeth interrupted.

Piper ignored her. “I gotta say, Percy, it’s been kinda crazy getting to know you. It’s like meeting a celebrity.”

“Really?” Percy asked. Annabeth was still holding one of his hands, and his other arm was draped across his eyes. 

“Oh, yeah. No one at Camp Half-Blood can shut up about you. Especially one person in particular,” Piper said, playfully kicking Annabeth.

Annabeth made a noise of indignation and leaned her head back against the bed. She knew she was bright red but there was no use fighting it. “In my defence, it’s kinda hard to tell anyone about my adventures without mentioning Percy. He was just…always there.”

“Always at the scene of the crime,” Percy muttered to himself, half-asleep. 

“Still,” said Piper, who was playing with the end of Annabeth’s braid. “I know what Hazel meant. You two are so…inextricable.”

“Inex-whatnow?” Percy asked.

“Inextricable,” Annabeth corrected gently. “Like, totally linked. Can’t be considered separately.”

“Mhm,” Percy mumbled. “Can’t be sold separately.”

“You’re exhausted, aren’t you?” Annabeth asked, drumming her fingers against Percy’s temple.

“Whaddya mean. I’m, like, so awake,” Percy slurred, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

Hazel and Piper shared a look. “We should probably go,” Hazel said, picking up the nail polish and empty cup. “You two should get some rest.”

“Who’s on watch?” Annabeth asked.

“Neither of you,” Piper said, starting to carefully extract herself from behind Annabeth.

“Yeah, don’t worry about that. We have it covered. You guys need sleep,” Hazel added as she stood up from the floor.

Annabeth felt guilty that her friends were covering for them, but she was also incredibly grateful. She and Percy were in no condition to keep watch. She felt like her skeleton was made of lead, and that her muscles had withered away. Even the thought of standing up to climb into bed felt impossible.

Percy grew tense in her lap. Annabeth glanced down, and his face was hard to read at first, but she could see that he was chewing on the inside of his cheek and frowning. He locked eyes with her and she could read his unspoken plea: Please let me stay. Annabeth was fairly certain her eyes were saying the same thing to him.

As if she could hear their silent conversation, Piper turned back to the couple and said, “By the way. Coach Hedge has gone with Nico and Reyna. And Buford the Table will be busy on deck.”

Hazel and Piper were lingering in the doorway, smiling at their friends. Their expressions were not teasing or pitying, but kind and understanding. Annabeth really loved these girls.

“Just thought you should know,” Hazel added. “We’ll see you both in the morning. Sleep well.”

Hazel slipped into the corridor, and as Piper followed her, she tossed a warm, “Sleep well, sweet dreams,” over her shoulder. Annabeth couldn’t be sure, but from the way her mind slowed and relaxed, she guessed Piper had sprinkled in a little Charmspeak.

Percy and Annabeth were left in the room, illuminated only by the orange glow of Annabeth’s bedside table and a few shafts of moonlight pouring between the blinds. The cabin was still and quiet, and Annabeth could hear the creaking of the ship as it lurched over waves. Sat here in this sanctuary with Percy, she could almost convince herself that none of it had happened. Maybe it was just all a bad dream. Maybe she would wake up tomorrow and it would all be forgotten.

Maybe she would wake up tomorrow and be back there.

The thought rose up quickly inside of her, and she tried to force it back down before she could slip into panic. She had to move forward. They both did.

It was Percy who managed to anchor her back to reality. “Can’t believe Hazel Levesque is endorsing this. She’s changed in this last few weeks.”

Annabeth laughed lightly. “I wonder what caused it.”

“Our degeneracy wore off on her.”

“Our degeneracy? We weren’t even here!”

“Exactly. That’s how powerful we are.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but smile. It felt good to joke around like this with Percy. It gave her hope that they hadn’t lost themselves entirely in Tartarus.

“It’s sweet. What Piper and Hazel did for you,” Percy said suddenly, eyes drifting closed again.

“Yeah, it really was,” Annabeth agreed, smiling. “They’re great friends.”

“I’m sorry if I interrupted, like, sacred girl bonding,” Percy said, in a tone that was half-joking, half-serious.

“Hey. You’re not an interruption,” Annabeth said, running her thumb over his cheek. “You had a nightmare, right?”

Percy opened his eyes, but his gaze was faraway, his brows knit close and jaw clenched. “Yeah. Bad one.”

Annabeth felt him stiffen in her lap. She squeezed his hand encouragingly. “You wanna talk about it?”

Percy stared hard at the ceiling, as if searching it for words. “We were back with the arai, except Bob didn’t get there in time. You couldn’t see, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t get to you. I couldn’t stop you, and you…you fell…”

Percy trailed off, blinking hard. He gripped Annabeth’s hand as if he could reach into his dream and grab her, pulling her to safety. Annabeth had felt him grip it like this before - in Rome, when Arachne’s web had pulled her into the Pit.

“I had to come see you. Check you were…you know…alive,” Percy continued, voice gravelly. “I know that sounds insane.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Annabeth said gently. “I know exactly how you feel. You remember that night I woke you up? When we went to the stable downstairs?”

Despite everything, Percy’s cheeks turned pink, and his lips quirked into a smile. “You mean when you broke into my bedroom to seduce me?”

Annabeth swatted his arm. “That is so not what happened. Anyway. The real reason I came to wake you up was because…well, honestly I was scared if I took my eyes off you, you’d be gone again.”

Percy looked at her, his eyes big and sad. Baby seal eyes, Piper had described them. Annabeth had claimed immunity, but deep down she was lying. Those eyes had been pulling on her heartstrings since she was 12 years old. 

“Well, we’re both still together,” Percy said, reaching up and running the end of Annabeth’s braid through his fingers.

“We’re both still together,” Annabeth echoed. Neither she or Percy possessed the gift of Charmspeak, but saying the words aloud felt powerful, restorative even. She would be sustained as long as those words were true.

The pair lapsed into silence, with Percy playing with Annabeth’s hair absentmindedly as she leaned against the bed. Annabeth felt an ache in her lower back. Even before Tartarus her back had a low tolerance for being unsupported. It had never been the same since her time holding up the sky. 

Just another wound that would never quite heal.

“Hairs’ so weird,” Percy spoke into the quiet. The words were drawn out, low and sleepy.

“Weird how?” 

“It gets tangled. We have to wash it. You can tie it up in loads of ways.”

“I think you mean hair is annoying.”

“Your hair isn’t annoying. It’s pretty.”

“It’s annoying to me.”

“You gonna get Piper to do it for you all the time?” 

“Do you think she would? Because that would be awesome.”

Percy’s eyes were closed, and he was smiling, as if he was having a wonderful dream. “If not, I’ll do it.”

“As if you could,” Annabeth teased.

“Hey. I can use a brush.”

“News to me,” Annabeth said, pointedly ruffling Percy’s hair.

“And I can tie knots and stuff.”

“Braiding hair isn’t the same as tying up sails, Seaweed Brain.”

“That’s where you’ve been going wrong.”

Annabeth burst out laughing. She could feel Percy shaking in her lap where he laughed along with her. It took a while for them both to calm down.

Percy lifted his free hand and studied his shimmery blue nails. “How would you rate Piper and Hazel’s salon?”

“10/10. I think I’m a lot less scary to look at now,” Annabeth said, also taking a moment to admire Hazel’s handiwork.

“Scary to look at?”

“In the mirror earlier,” Annabeth confessed, remembering how weak and marred her reflection had seemed. “I didn’t recognise myself.”

“I know the feeling,” Percy said. “But, for the record, you’ve never looked scary to me. At least, not in the way you mean.”

“Yeah, right,” Annabeth said sarcastically. “I’m sure I looked amazing in Tartarus.”

“You did, actually. It was kinda impressive,” Percy said with a lopsided grin.

Annabeth felt her face heat up. “Okay, well, you’re contractually obligated to say that.”

“Annabeth,” Percy said pointedly, raising his brows. “My entire existence is against contractual obligation.”

That made Annabeth laugh, really laugh. “You got me there,” she conceded.

As glad as she was to laugh, the effort on her lungs and chest was sapping her already depleted energy levels. Percy seemed to be feeling the same way, as he had practically melted into her lap, his eyes heavy-lidded. Annabeth’s lower back was really starting to protest now. It was time to be horizontal, preferably on top of an actual mattress.

“I’m so tired,” Annabeth said weakly into the darkness of the bedroom.

“Hi, so tired. I’m Percy.”

Annabeth sighed exaggeratedly. She was too braindead to think of a good comeback. 

Percy chuckled, and then rolled onto his side and groaned dramatically. “I’m gonna have to move, aren’t I?”

Annabeth patted his arm. “Sure are, Seaweed Brain. I would like to sleep in a bed.”

“Damn, you developed standards all of a sudden. Back in my day we slept on the ground in Tartarus and we liked it.”

Annabeth began giggling uncontrollably. The sleep deprivation must have been getting to her. Percy was also laughing, and trying to push himself up from her lap. Annabeth raised her knees to help, forcing his back into a more upright position. She tried to push him further, but her arms were like jelly.

“C’mon, hero. You’re like a sack of potatoes.”

Percy sighed deeply and slowly began to get up, using the edge of Annabeth’s bed as leverage. Once he was upright, he flopped down onto her mattress face-down, spread out diagonally. Annabeth got up with considerable effort, and stood over her boyfriend with her hands on her hips.

“Okay, now you’re monopolising my bed.”

Percy said something, but the bedsheets muffled his words.

“Huh?” 

“Can you stop using big words,” Percy complained, turning his head so he could be heard. “My brain hurts.”

“Boy too big. Bed too small. Move.”

“Oh, so you think I’m tall?”

Annabeth snorted. “Just move, will you? I’ll help.”

As Percy rolled onto his side, Annabeth got next to him and pushed so that he was only occupying half of the space. Percy flinched and laughed before saying, “Hey, that tickles.”

Annabeth slipped into bed next to Percy and pulled her blanket over them. Laying on a mattress gave relief to her aching bones. Suddenly, she remembered a house in a swamp, a fluffy cot, a bowl of drakon stew. Damasen, she thought, her heart splintering at the memory. She would never get to tell the giant just how thankful she was.

She must have been sniffling, because Percy took her fingers and placed a light kiss to the back of her hand. “I was thinking about Bob and Damasen, too.”

The air in the room felt thick, like smoke. Annabeth struggled to take in deep breaths. Pressure built in her chest, as if someone was putting more and more weight on top of her. It was crushing. She couldn’t stop the tears. The panic that had been slowly enveloping her before Piper came by was suddenly pressing in from every angle.

Percy wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. “I know,” he said softly, rubbing circles on her back. Annabeth felt the world stop caving in. Slowly, the pressure alleviated, and she was taking normal breaths. Percy pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“How are we gonna do this?” Annabeth whispered when the tears finally stopped.

Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, finder of the Athena Parthenos, hero of Olympus, survivor of Tartarus; Annabeth Chase, the girl with a plan, had no idea what to do. Nothing in the world could have prepared her for the Pit. And now, instead of finding some way to recover, she still had to finish saving the world. She and Percy had to help their friends and finish saving the world. There was no time to regroup. There was also no time to fall apart. She had to keep pressing on in this broken, fractured state. She felt like she was wrangling every molecule in her body to stay together instead of dissolving into nothing, as if she had never escaped the Cocytus. 

Percy pulled back a little and cupped her face, using his thumb to wipe away lingering tears. Annabeth had never seen him so shattered. He looked like the ocean after a hurricane; murky, listless, worn out, pawing at the shore and burdened by debris. Yet still, there was the faintest glimmer of light in his sea green eyes, like a lighthouse beaming through fog.

“Same way we always do. Together,” Percy said, his voice thick with fatigue but no less certain.

It was all Annabeth needed to hear. Within minutes, the pair were fast asleep. They held each other the same way they had in the fall. It was a mutual promise to never let go.