A Crown of Golden Leaves: A Percy Jackson Fanfiction

Capvt XXXIV: Unspoken Words

"I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge. That myth is more potent than history. That dreams are more powerful than facts. That hope always triumphs over experience. That laughter is the only cure for grief. And I believe that love is stronger than death." ― Robert Fulghum  

Capvt XXIV: Unspoken Words

ANNABETH closed the door behind her with a soft click and slid to the ground. She breathed in deeply, once, twice thrice. She closed her eyes, sliding to the ground as she buried her head into her hands.

He was alive. Perseus was alive. Percy wasn't dead.

The emotion hurled over her like a wave, crashing against her. She shuddered and gasped, and the rock wall she had built around her heart came crashing down. He was alive. She didn't know how he was alive, but she knew she had seen him earlier in the markets. He wasn't dead. He was alive. He was breathing and talking and reporting to Octavius Caesar and alive. Alive. Living.

Her shoulders shook as she sobbed into her hand, clutching the back of her neck as she folded over. She dropped her hand from the back of her neck to wrap around her stomach, as if that could hold her together. The cold air bit into her skin, except she knew that it wasn't really all that cold.

He was alive and not dead and okay and- Oh, gods. She had been able to touch him again. She'd been able to feel his skin against her palms, warm and radiating heat as always. She had been able to see those green eyes sparkle at her in that strange emotion he possessed that she never could quite put her finger on and she'd seen those lips twist up into that smirk.

Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Not dead. Alive. He was well. And alive. And not dead. And-

What if it had been a dream though? What if it had been a crazy, wonderful dream? She... she... She didn't know what she would do if it turned out to be a dream. And she didn't want to think it was a dream. The idea was horrible. She didn't want it to be a dream. Not at all. If it had been a dream... She... Then that would mean that Percy wasn't alive, and she didn't want that.

"Annabeth?"

She jerked up, and their gazes locked, steel on sea. Percy was standing in the doorway, his eyebrows furrowed together. Her heart hammered in her chest, but she couldn't move. She was frozen to the ground-because what if he wasn't alive? What if he was a dream or an illusion her mind had created to deal with the grief? What if, what if, what if... She couldn't risk it. She couldn't. She couldn't let this shatter-she wanted him to be alive so bad. But she was so scared and...

His eyes widened, and she realized that he must have figured something out. Then something in them softened, and he stepped forward. She flinched when he stood within touching distance. She couldn't live through the grief again... wasn't even sure if she would now... if this turned out to be a dream...

He crouched down in front of her so that they were at eye level. Her breathing hitched in the back of her throat, but she didn't dare to release it in case he shattered like a broken mirror. His eyes locked with hers, and she couldn't look away, but that didn't really matter for the moment. She knew he was searching for something, though she had no idea what.

"I'm still here, Annabeth. I promise. I'm okay. I'm alive. I'm sorry."

She exhaled loudly. Her fingers were cold. Incredibly cold. But she didn't want to move them. She was so scared... and she was hopeful. What if this wasn't a dream? What if he was real, and not a clone?

"You're alive?"

His lips curled up into a soft smile and he nodded. Impulsively, she looked at his eyes-really looked into them, and tilted her head at what she found there. They were soft. And open. Far more so than she ever believed was possible. She saw something in there, hidden behind the warmth. A fire. No, not a fire-a spark. Something small and not quite there, but thriving and growing, waiting for the right moment to ignite.