A Crown of Golden Leaves: A Percy Jackson Fanfiction

Caput XXXVII: A Resolution of Sorts

Taboo Subject Warning: Menstruating mention (like seriously, if I can write it then I'm pretty sure you can handle reading it – It's only a line). Smexy times ahead. Don't act like myself at twelve and read responsibly. I'm serious guys. Be responsible, please. Some of the things I'm writing about in this chapter disturbs me myself.

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"I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in darkness the astonishing light of your own being." – Hafiz of Persia

Caput XXXVII: A Resolution of Sorts

ANNABETH woke slowly.

The first thing that caught her attention when she eventually opened her eyes was the white – A sheer, stark white. There was no yellow to offset it, or any other color, really. Instantly, she closed her eyes again – The white made them ache too much.

The next thing she noticed was the smell of disinfectant that didn't entirely hide the smell of death and decay. The platform she laid on wasn't comfortable – It was hard – and she didn't feel Percy's body heat near or pressed against her, trapping her within it like the cuddler she had come to realize he was.

Her back was aching from whatever she was resting on. She felt sticky. She groaned under her breath and forced her eyes to open for the second time, wanting to know more about where she was. And she couldn't do that if she was sleeping. (Her eyes were very sore too, now that she thought about it.)

It only took a few heartbeats for her to recognize the brown floorboards and the wooden tables that served as bed. Why am I in the infirmary? She sat up, and looked down at herself. She saw no visible wounds –

Wait. I didn't put this on earlier...?

"You're awake!" The sudden new voice startled her – it was silly to have thought she was the only one awake now, wasn't it? This was a sickbay after all – and she jerked her head up. She recognized that nurse, the one who had talked to her the night Percy had been flogged all those months ago. She'd been very warm back then . . . and her name was Meg? Meg smiled at her gently before she turned to the cupboards and placed the blankets in her arms in them.

For a moment, she didn't know if she should say something or if she should stay quiet. But there was a question burning at her, demanding her to ask it, and she was never able to learn when to not ask questions. But she waited a bit, to see if Meg would volunteer any information.

Meg was busy swiping the counters down, avoiding her eyes.

Something was wrong.

"Uh . . . is there any reason why I'm here? The last thing I remember is..." Walking with Piper and Jason? I'd felt dizzy and . . . and then something went wrong.

Meg wasn't smiling anymore. Her gaze fell to the ground. She chewed on her fingernail before she sat on the edge of the table. Annabeth curled her legs up to her chest to give her more room, but she did nothing.

"There is a reason," she said eventually, and continued no further. It looked like she was going to have to drag the truth out of her.

"And that reason is?" she asked slowly, tilting her head to the side. It had to be bad, if she didn't want to talk about it. But what could it possibly be? Were the late hours she spent training catching up to her? Had she caught a virus? What was it?

"I'm sorry."

Alarm bells began to go off in her head. She swallowed. "Meg," (she hoped that was her name) "There's nothing you should be sorry for."