Wanted (A Percy Jackson/Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. crossover)

Unsteady

This is late but thanks everyone for your comments and votes and reading!!! You guys are the best and I hope you enjoy this chapter!!!

It was uncomfortably bright when Percy woke up.

He was used to the soft light of his cabin when he woke up; even his small room at home had thick curtains to block out the sun. It was one of the only ways to successfully sleep until noon; to do it consistently was one of his top 5 life goals, next to marrying Annabeth and keeping his participation in great prophecies down to zero.

Unfortunately, the nightmares made that goal increasingly difficult.

They annoyed him to no extent, especially in that the worse ones panicked him enough to act more irrationally than normal. The pained looks of his friends when he came to, looks of worry and fear, embarrassed him to no extent. What kind of leader was he supposed to be? One who can't even keep his mind straight? He realized that it was still only about a year after what had happened, but it was sickening that Chiron didn't trust him to participate in Capture the Flag after he was left a mess after a camper had startled him from behind. It took Annabeth nearly half an hour to calm him down.

She had cried.

He had made her cry.

He blinked his eyes groggily, partly to discredit the memory and partly to avoid the artificial white light boring into his eyes; they did little to help the migraine he currently had. Eventually his eyes adjusted and he glanced around. His stomach jumped when he realized he had no idea where he was. The white fluffy walls and furniture were alien and frankly, quite creepy.

He sat up quickly, hissing at a sudden burst of pain in his hand; he held it against his chest and allowed the memories to come back to him. His body seemed heavy, and his thoughts processed slowly.

The attackers. The fight. The gun.

The gun. He glanced down at his chest and pulled up the fitted shirt shakily with his good hand; his eyebrows furrowed at the lack of dressing, unless the small square of gauze counted for anything. He touched it gingerly, wincing a little at the slight sting. It was definitely bruised, at the least.

"You're awake," a voice beside him said softly. Annabeth brought herself to a sitting position and pulled her knees to her chest, staring at his fingers, which were still on the small wound. He quickly tugged the black shirt back down over his scarred chest and frowned at her. "How long was I out?"

The small smile on her face dropped instantly. She glanced down at her feet, refusing to look at him. Fear ran through him.

"Annabeth?"

She looked up nervously. "Three years."

He narrowed his eyes, refusing to believe it; the growing smirk on her face gave him good reason not to. "Shut up," he laughed, shoving her with his good hand; the movement sent an ache though his body, like he had just finished an Iron man race. He ignored it at the sound of her laugh, but she still noticed his slight wince.

"Are you okay?"

He flinched at her words but scoffed to cover it up. "Of course I am, I'm with you." He mockingly copied the annoyed look she sent him in response. "Jackson, I swear-"

"I'm good, I swear."

Her grey eyes narrowed at him. She glanced down at the hand he was cradling against his chest still and raised an eyebrow.

"Fine," he groaned, reaching it out to her. "Ouch, it hurts, help," he cried out.

"I'm trying to help, Seaweed Brain. Stop being so difficult."