Percy only noticed they had been walking down the Argo II while holding hands when they had reached Annabeth's cabin door. It seemed like holding Annabeth's hand become second nature to him, which was understandable, as they had only just, literally escaped hell. Now that they were facing the cabin door, fingers interlaced, Percy realized he wasn't ready to let go of her just yet. Perhaps he never would be.
He remembered the events of the last few hours as if they had been spread thin over a space of weeks, not a single afternoon. From escaping the House of Hades to a strangely emotional picnic with actual, real human food, during which they agreed to separate into two equally important missions. Then there had been saying goodbye to Nico, Reyna and Coach Hedge – it couldn't all just have happened in the last few hours, it simply couldn't.
As the memories flooded his mind, he felt like patting himself on the back, congratulating himself on having lived through the last 24 hours, when he made the mistake of looking up at the stars, and the emotional toll hit him like a tidal wave. He simply was not prepared to face it – the moment he thought of Bob and Damasen.
Fortunately, Annabeth had been beside him at the time, glancing into the vast open ocean, safely onboard the Argo II. She was possibly the only person alive who could understand what he felt, her presence lessening the pain and the shame of having left them behind. He knew that, when the time came, he would be able to share with her the grief and the guilt that threatened to overtake him, and make sense of those feelings when time was ripe.
Annabeth, who had always been there by his side, for whom he plunged into the depths of Tartarus, from whom he had sworn never ever to be parted again, rested her head on his chest as she snaked a shaky arm around his waist, and he felt like diluting into her like blue food colorant in pancake mix.
Annabeth's exhaustion was palpable, Percy could feel her thin frame shivering against him, completely at odds with the gentle summer breeze that caressed their arms and faces. He put his arm around her, pulling her closer to him as he rested his chin on her head. They would have stayed there longer if sleep hadn't threatened to come and knock them unconscious while standing up. After stifling a monumental yawn, Percy turned and began to make his way to the sleeping quarters, Annabeth at his side.
The Argo II sailed across an uncharacteristically silent sea, as if a truce had been agreed between all parties – one night of peace and calm to tend to the wounded and reassemble. The crew of their demigod-manned ship had all gone to bed except for Frank, who took on first watch and waved at them silently as Percy and Annabeth walked past.
Now they stood before her cabin door, the minuscule memory of a bossy goat registered in Percy's mind – a gruff voice yelling something about putting some clothes on, only it sounded dull and distant and unimportant.
Annabeth pushed the cabin door open with her free hand. A gentle orange light greeted them, as if the room had been secretly preparing to give its owner the most comfortable welcome possible. She walked in, pulling Percy behind her automatically. He took a step forward, then stopped.
The sudden realization that this wasn't his cabin hit him, his eyes focusing on the assortment of objects neatly scattered across the room. His room wasn't nearly as neat, and it didn't smell like this – like wild flowers. He had heard somewhere that you can't smell your own scent, but he was pretty sure he didn't smell like flowers. Seaweed, maybe.
"Whaswrong?" Annabeth said, her words slurring slightly. She looked more asleep than awake. Her eyelids drooped over her grey eyes, disheveled curls of golden hair falling carelessly over a few scratches on her forehead that had already started to heal. A smile tugged at the corner of Percy's mouth as he thought she had never looked more beautiful.
