The Battle of The Labyrinth [Book Four]

Aftermath.

Clean up was slow and painful. With Daedalus dead now, the Labryinth was destroyed for good, which was a good thing. Maybe the only good thing to come out of all this, aside from surviving the battle. Clean up started with the bodies. Memorial services were conducted for all the half-bloods, even those of the Titan Army that we had fought. With how busy we were, I never got the chance to properly see Annabeth. We were being pulled into opposite directions by everyone, with her staying by Chiron's side as he healed, and myself helping with the clean up around Zeus' Fist. And with the inevitable war beginning, campers needed to be properly trained in combat, and I was the one chosen to lead in that department. It wasn't until weeks later that her and I properly got together, without the onlookers around us, at least not our fellow campers. She had suggested that we go into Manhattan to see a matinee movie, which I agreed to in a heartbeat. But only on one agreement; neither of us talk about camp, Kronos or the coming war.

That proves to be more difficult then I imagined. We find idle things to talk about, learn more about each other, talk about things that we wouldn't talk about to anyone else.

And I feel a little normal for once, like some part of my life has shifted back into place. My soul, maybe.

The movie hasn't started yet, and we're sitting somewhere towards the back of the theater. As the conversation dulls back down, I stifle a yawn behind the back of my hand.

"D'ya think that when we get back to your dad's house in San Francisco, we can check out that Labyrinth-" I begin to mumble at the end of my yawn, but she interrupts me as soon as I say the word Labyrinth.

"Reagan," she says abruptly, voice stern, then softens. "We agreed on this. No topics about....that stuff."

She lowers her voice towards the end as another couple files down the aisle to get to seats closer to the screen. They don't even spare us a glance, and Annabeth shoots me a glare.

I smile a little and raise my hands apologetically in surrender, to which she rolls her eyes and looks away, but there's a grin on her face that she's trying so very hard to conceal behind blonde locks of hair. This feels like a romantic movie cliche, and if anyone else did something like this, I'd gag on the spot. But I reach forward with my hand and brush the hair behind her ear, my hand shaking slightly from nerves. Before Annabeth can muster up the courage to protest or say anything at all, I lean forward and press my lips against hers briskly. This catches her even more off guard, and as I pull away her hand shoots up, covering my own that's still against her face gingerly. She's blushing up to her roots as she stares at me, and I can only imagine what my face looks like right now.

"I'm sorry-" I stammer out. "When you had stayed behind with Daedalus in his workshop, I- I thought I had lost you. For good this time." My other hand clenches the armrest so tight my knuckles turn white, and I relax them immediately. "I was so scared, Annabeth." She releases my hand, a hint of reluctance in the stiff movement, and I pull it away slowly. "I was so scared." I repeat, voice shaking with the light tremors of my body as they overtake me in my seat.

I feel a weight lift from my shoulders at the confession, a feeling that's been hovering over me since her and I got separated. I hated feeling scared; that accompanying emptiness of the unknown that stuck with it made breathing impossible. Would I ever see her again? Was she alive? What was Annabeth doing right now? Fighting? Running? Hiding?

Dying?

My body goes rigid at the thought, and I'm about to scream. Like, literally scream in this movie theater and get us kicked out. But her hands find my face, cupping my cheeks gently and grounding me to reality.

"Hey! Hey," Annabeth is trying to soothe me with soft words and equally soft gestures, and I find to my own astonishment that I'm crumbling in her embrace. A pitiful whimper bubbles up my throat as I cling to her and cry silently into her shoulder. "It's okay, Reagan. It's okay. Everything is okay." I so desperately want to believe her, but the image of Kronos in Luke's body flinging me against a stone pillar enters my mind unbeknownst. Annabeth finds my hand and squeezes it reassuringly, then twines our pinkies together. I snort at the simple gesture, my forehead pressed against her shoulder still. "It won't happen again. I promise."