Let Go -Book Two-(Percy Jackson Fanfiction) {Completed}

Chapter Eight

Percy's  POV

     Percy felt helpless. Out of all the things he'd been through, like going through hell and back and seeing many people he knew perish, this one was the worse. He knew in his brain that all those deaths had not all been at his hand, but this time he knows that these future deaths, would be because of him. Maybe this would turn out well and he would be bombarded with people reassuring him that it was not him, but Gaea. He wouldn't believe them. The inner turmoil was splitting him in half like a smooth slash of a sword and every time he took a deep breath, he could feel the blade between his ribs. And even if he didn't end up killing anyone, the words that were ejected from his mouth hurt almost as much. He swam in the blood drawn by this sharp, unfamiliar tongue. He was choking on it and drowning in it. A son of Poseidon can drown in something, I guess, he thought. 

       So here he was, feeling used, abused, and at knife point. Percy could almost convince himself that he was okay with dying, staring into grey eyes through another pair. It was strange looking through someone else's eyes, Annabeth always was infinitely more gorgeous in his own eyes. But these weren't his eyes. He stood up, in the weird void he was stuck in, and threw a punch at the wall. He had been striking the walls to gain control, which he thought was a stupid idea at first, but it worked out. He punched the wall, each punch for everyone at camp, his family, his friends, and everyone he was destined to hurt. He suddenly was in his own body and not in the void. She really was beautiful. He took in everything around him. The beach, the wind, Annabeth's face. Annabeth lowered the dagger in her hands and choked on a sob. 

    "Percy, are--are you there?" she asked while her voice shook. He tried to grin, but felt his lips quivering with effort. He raised a shaking hand to her scraped up cheek. It was a simple touch, but as soon as he acted, he could see the fracture lines give way. She placed her hand atop of his and let the tears flow down. He, too, felt tears threatening to fall from his eyes. He felt pressure on his head. Gaea was trying to come back. He grew panicked. Annabeth most have felt it because she squeezed his hand. He could see the cogs turning in her head as she steeled herself up again. He brought her face closer, staring, memorizing her face for the umpteenth time. He planted a kiss on her cheek, feeling tears on it. He took a deep breath. He needed to act now. 

     "My back. You know what to do," he whispered. Annabeth snapped her head back.

     "But, I thought it was gone!" she replied. He shook his head.

     "I thought so, too," he replied. He could have sworn he lost it in that river. Maybe the prophecy just wanted to make it symbolic. He hated the Gods. She looked at her knife and then back to his face. Her grip on the knife was as strong as iron, her knuckles turning white. She looked to her side. He followed her gaze to see a mass of their friends running at them. Jason was flying, Frank was a bird, Leo was practically on fire, Nico was riding a shadow, Reyna and Thalia armed with their spears, Piper with her dagger, Grover with his pan pipes, and Hazel with her sword. They were all a dangerous masterpiece. These were others he wanted to memorize. He felt his control falter again. He gripped Annabeth's arm to get her attention. She looked back, her facial expression wild. 

     "Please, Annabeth, hurry," he said. Suddenly he was sucked back into the void-like room. He screamed in rage. He kicked and punched at everything until he was sure that his hands and feet were broken, but nothing physically hurt here. This is wear it ends, Gaea. Your stop is here. 

     Do not think you have won yet, she replied. 

Annabeth's POV