PJO/HOO One Shots

Riptide (Epilogue)

I'd been searching for months. After the fight with Kronos, everyone moved on and began to rebuild. But not me. I couldn't move on, not when there was a chance he could still be out there.

It's been a year. The first few months after Percy died, I searched the Hudson River for hours on end, renting a small boat to take out, trying to find something, anything to tell me he was alive. Eventually, at Piper and Jason' insistence, I stopped searching, but I never gave up. Instead, I settled for calling his home phone everyday, leaving voicemails, hoping one day he'd stumble into his apartment and know I hadn't moved on from him, that I never would. I would wait for him, no matter how long it took.

I didn't know how I managed to do it (actually... I had some help from his mother), but I made the payments for both his rent and mine, grasping onto my fragile hope that he'd at least make it back to his apartment. I tried several times to go in, to surround myself with his belongings, but each time I worked up the courage, I couldn't make it past the parking lot without the ache in my chest becoming too painful to ignore.

Come back to me, Seaweed Brain.
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Day 1:
I stood, horrified, in the center of the crater created by the golden blast that took Luke's life. It was as if a giant meteor had fallen from the sky and crash landed in Manhattan; the diameter of the hole was easily the length of a school bus.

My eyelids fluttered, hot tears threatening to fall from behind them as I leaned over to pick up another torn piece of fabric from Percy's uniform. With trembling fingers, I pressed the cloth into my chest, keeling over as the weight of it all hit me. He's gone. Ragged sobs tore themselves from my throat until I had screamed myself raw, but even then, the hole in my chest never filled.

Gravel crunched behind me. I wiped my cheeks hastily with the back of my hand as I turned my head to see a police officer approaching me. He was an older man, probably around 50, with graying hairs and a kind face.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave," he said guiltily, placing a hesitant hand on my shoulder.

"Yes, of course, I'm so sorry," I gasped, biting my lip to stem the flow of tears. "I was just leaving."

I stood shakily, hiding the fabric in my pocket before beginning to stumble off, my fist pressed over my quivering lips.

"Are you okay?"

"I-I'm sorry?" I turned, caught off guard by his question.

"I said are you okay? You seem to be taking this pretty hard." The officer shrugged, but he didn't seem condescending.

I shuddered out a stuttering breath. "I um...," I sniffled. "I just— I interviewed him once, you know. So he was um....he was very special to me." My voice cracked at the statement. It didn't seem real; it seemed like a nightmare.

"You're that journalist, Annabeth Chase," the officer realized, staring at me with a sympathetic look on his face. "The one who interviewed Riptide."

I nodded brokenly.

The police officer stuck his hands in his pockets, frowning slightly. "Yeah, he was a real inspiration to all of us. I don't know what this city will do without him."

I walked off without another word, not trusting myself to speak without breaking down again. As I headed towards the yellow tape other officers were putting up around the outer rim of the rubble, I became vaguely aware of a shrill voice, screaming.

"You don't understand, you have to let me in! My friend is in there— don't touch her!" I looked up to see Piper struggling against two burly police officers, spit flying and her choppy brown hair wild. Jason stood off to one side, speaking animatedly as he tried to reason with the officers holding her, while Chiron sat not too far away, also speaking to a police officer.