Her head pounded, like a headache one would get from hanging by the knees on the monkey bars at recess. Blood rushing in her skull, her face numb, the pressure building behind her eyes. There was a ringing in her ears, high and disorienting.
There had been a crash.
Her seatbelt dug into her neck and chest and her eyes were painful to open, eyelids tacky with something warm. Even squinting through the substance, she couldn't see anything beyond the roof of the car. Annabeth craned her neck and wondered just why her hair was floating above.
I'm upside down.
She fumbled with the buckle, fingers slick with blood and slipping on the shards of broken plastic. It was hard to breathe and she tried not to panic, but her entire body was numb. Something glimmered out the window, light reflecting off broken glass, and she struggled more fervently with the seatbelt.
Why didn't I stop?
Annabeth dropped out of her seat, landing on the roof with a thud. A nerve pinched in her neck and she scrambled to roll off her back. There was a lot of pain she would definitely feel later, throbbing and stinging, but at the moment, her tossing stomach posed a bigger problem.
Get out of the car.
Glass dug into her hands and knees as she crawled to the window, lungs practically caving as everything closed in and down and entrapping her in disfigured metal. Her elbows ripped on the asphalt and she gulped back a series of heaves.
Get out of the car.
Her legs weren't, what was the phrase...working. The same could be said for her brain. Still, she managed to weasel out of the wreckage, slumped on the edge of the road. It was raining, but she couldn't feel it. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and squinted across the street.
A blurry blob of car glistened at the edge of the tree line smouldered and sizzled in the night, lit by her one working headlight. No one seemed to be moving, but that could have been her impaired judgment and fresh blood leaking into her eyes.
Was this my fault?
Her head continued to reel as she tried to process her own flipped car. It looked like someone had run it over and dropped it back to Earth from Mars. She could safely declare it totaled, but she still didn't remember what led to the crash. Thinking too hard jabbed knives into her skull and she finally hurled her stomach contents.
Through her hacking and heaving, Annabeth heard something curious. It wasn't rumbling thunder or an approaching car, but a low humming that made her hair stand on end. Her ears popped, as if the air changed in pressure, and someone was standing in the middle of the road.
She wiped her hand cross her mouth, staring at the figure. She was positive he hadn't been there before, but maybe the driver of the other car was alive after all. That would have certainly eased the tension in her gut to some degree, but it was ultimately wishful thinking.
The man leisurely walked to the wreckage, arms hooked over the scythe resting across his shoulders.
Annabeth glanced up and down the road, suddenly acutely aware of how desolate it was. It seemed like a good idea to take backroads when she was planning her trip, but two hours of traffic would have been preferred over surviving an accident only to be murdered by some cryptid. She scooted herself closer to her overturned car because he probably didn't hear her loudly vomiting.
I'm going to die in the Garden State, she thought miserably.
She couldn't find her phone on the roof of the car, but she doubted it would have had signal in the first place. There wasn't anything heavy for defense, but she did find the two chicken nuggets she didn't eat from earlier that day.
A peace offering, she mused, sitting with her back to the car.
The rain looked like diamonds, softly falling and mixing with with her blood. She watched the dark clouds with resignation, listening for footsteps. Her body hurt, but not quite to the degree of helplessness. Her head was alright too, but her mind...
The rain looks like diamonds.
"Don't suppose you're gonna do me any favors, huh."
Her eyes slid to the side, heart jumping briefly as they caught on the man. She hadn't even heard him approach. "You..."
His face was dark, but his body retracted in shock. "You aren't dead."
"Not yet," she croaked, the adrenaline starting to fade from her veins. "What...you..."
"No," his scythe scraped on the pavement. "You are definitely still alive."
Annabeth squinted up at him, trying to see what brand of fuckery she was dealing with. He was genuinely stunned that she was still kicking, but he didn't seem keen on cutting her string himself.
Bright light sliced through the night, a car speeding through the rain towards the mess. She watched it slow and eventually stop before her. The headlights shined right through the man before her as two people got out.
"Who are you?" she started to drag herself to stand.
The man rubbed his forehead, unflinching as one of the newcomers jogged right through him.
"Miss!" the girl cried, offering a helping hand. "Are you alright? Dakota, call 911!"
Annabeth thought she saw the man's eyes flash green, but he was gone by the time she blinked. He didn't reappear for the rest of the ordeal; not for the questions or the horror or the ambulance and dizzying lights. As she lay on the gurney, staring at the white ceiling and impervious to the paramedics buzzing around her, she chalked him up to a trauma inspired hallucination. It was a fair assumption, considering how she kept fading in and out of consciousness. She wouldn't have been surprised if she recalled a centaur checking her vitals.
Nurses and doctors and everyone in between kept telling her how lucky she was as soon as they reached the hospital. The sentiment continued through the night and again through early morning, but she didn't exactly feel like a winner. Six broken ribs, a fractured wrist, a scary painful concussion, and bruising just about everywhere. Not to mention glass lodged in her skin, which she was definitely grateful to be passed out for the removal of.
Still...
Piper signed her out after two days of observation, somehow sweet talking the nurses out of the family only rule.
"It's only fair," she had rolled her eyes at Annabeth's protests. "You totaled your car trying to visit me."
Shockingly, Annabeth wasn't immediately paralyzed with fear at the thought of her friend's reckless driving.
An ever present chill cloaked her as they walked through the hospital halls, unshakable and unfamiliar. She gripped her prescription note tightly and walked behind Piper, eyes skirting the swaths of people they passed. Nothing was blatantly out of the ordinary, but there were individuals who stuck slightly out. No one interacted with them, no one appeared to recognize they were there at all.
Their eyes, she frowned. They...glow?
"-beth?"
She looked up, tossing a quick smile Piper's way. "I'm fine."
Her lips pursed, but she kept walking anyway. "You'll be even better on those pain meds."
Promises, promises.
And she forgot about the strange eyes and strange man. She called her insurance, avoided watching the news, and sent a short and simple email to her mom explaining what happened. It was nice sitting on Piper's worn couch, watching old romcoms and eating ice cream from the carton. She didn't mind being catered to either; you never know how much power you hold until you ask for a specific kind of chips at midnight.
She's gonna hold this against me one day, Annabeth reached for the remote.
Her medication must have been wearing off, because pain so sharp knifed through her abdomen she saw black. She made sure to grab the remote before falling back into the couch with a whimper. There wasn't a lot the nurses could do about her injuries, but she wondered if she could have asked for something stronger than an ice pack and some pills. She wouldn't mind being knocked out for a week, just so she didn't have to think about the pain.
The lights flickered.
She wouldn't have thought much of it; the McLean vacation house was old, the wiring probably needing updating. Or the wind was shaking through some power lines. Or something plausible. Still, she stilled considerably.
There was a low humming and her hair rose on the back of her neck.
"Piper?"
Her voice sounded small in her ears.
She scanned the dim living room, not really looking because her heart pounded painfully whenever she glanced at the shadows. Violins swelled on the tv, but she could only hear the house shifting and groaning. Her muscles screamed when she tensed, scared of her own reflection in the sliding glass doors.
You're freaking out over nothing, she carefully turned to face the screen. Probably hallucinating.
The couple in the movie were kissing, but there was thirty minutes left, so there was plenty that could go wrong and she was all in for getting lost in a silly romantic tryst. She tugged the blanket over her legs and crossed her arms defiantly; she was going to relax.
The other side of the couch dipped and while she stared at the tv, the dark figure was very prominent in the corner of her eye.
Her throat closed up and she did not move.
A ridiculous sneaking around scene followed by the comic relief best friend yelling in an attempt to create an emotional arc, but it all fell on deaf ears. Blood roared and she felt like her lungs were about to burst and she was freezing, though it had nothing to do with the air conditioning. When the leading actress began her own redemption arc, Annabeth swallowed and glanced over.
The man frowned, eyes darting over to meet hers. "So you can see me."
The pressure in her chest increased, every instinct in her demanding she get as far from him as possible.
"This sucks," he slouched and looked back to the movie.
"Who are you."
"No one good."
She clenched her jaw to keep her voice from shaking. "Get real, asshole."
"Asshole?"
Annabeth's head snapped over and she glare at his incredulous tone. "Yes, asshole, you know you're terrifying and you insist on popping up like some B rated horror movie monster."
"Wait," he twisted to fully face her and a shiver ran down her spine. "B rated movie? I'll take terrifying, but I am not a B-"
"I don't even know what you-"
"-like you didn't see me just appear, that's scary-"
"-just snuck in while I was zoned out-"
"You know that's not true."
The words died in her throat as his eyes flashed and freezing fear washed over her anew. It was like standing at the edge of a cliff, held in a thin bubble just under water. He was a natural force and her heart raced and cold sweat beaded across her body.
Yet she was pulled to it.
Annabeth wrapped her arms around herself and revised her first question. "What are you?"
He nodded and she knew he was somehow staring through her, like he could see her beating heart or her very soul. "I'm not sure what you believe, what I would be in your culture."
"Are you...Death?"
"If I was, we wouldn't be in this situation."
"Sorry I survived."
"But you didn't," he insisted, crossing his arms. "I was summoned because you were supposed to be dead."
She just wrinkled her nose, suppressing the sounds of crunching metal and shattering glass. "So why don't you just finish the job here? Or at the crash? Or the hospital?"
"That's not my job, I don't interfere. Just guide."
"Okay, so if you can't kill me, why are you here?"
"Because I can't leave until my job is done."
Her stomach flipped and she gripped her remote tightly. "But that'd mean you-"
The door slammed open, Piper backing through with arms full of groceries and demanding she be given the title "Goddess of the Bountiful Harvest". Adrenaline pumping through her veins, Annabeth glanced from her to the thing on the couch. If her friend saw something off, she didn't let on.
"Jackass tried stealing the last one and I said, uh, no, bitch, and yoinked it back," Piper pulled the chips out of the Walmart bag. "Because I'm literally the best, are you okay? Have you taken your meds this hour?"
"I..." she eyed the guy next to her.
He raised his eyebrow and turned back to the tv. "Hope you don't mind having a personal poltergeist for awhile."
"Annabeth?"
"I just need some water," she muttered. "Thanks for, uh, the chips."
"No problem, what movie are we watching next?"
"Don't you have work tomorrow?"
Piper snorted, glassware clinking as she rummaged through the cabinets. "I've run on less sleep than this, remember last semester?"
"You need to stop going on Twitter at four in the morning," she absently replied.
"You retweeted me at four in the morning, hypocrite."
"You shouldn't- woah woah, wait!"
Piper flopped over the back of the couch, falling right through the guy and cocking her head curiously. "What?"
"I just," she blinked, Mr. Not Death having vanished just before her eyes. "Nothing, nothing. You just...forgot my water."
She didn't see the mystery man for the rest of the night, but the hair on the back of her neck never settled and there was always something out of the corner of her eye. Piper eventually demanded she sleep, playing nurse and bad influence best friend at the same time, but sleep didn't come easy. Without the movies and the chips to distract her, only two things were left to take turns keeping her awake. She'd rather focus on the pain, a constant heat ebbing and flowing as the medication ran through her system, because it made sense.
She was supposed to be in pain.
You were supposed to be dead.
Exhaling slowly, Annabeth stared at the ceiling, trying to count the individual bumps in the dark. Mystery Man could easily be a psychotic break, her brain trying to rationalize surviving or a manifestation of trauma, but she knew that wasn't true. He was as real as the wind, real as she was. She just didn't know what that meant for her, what she should do; if he just needed to wait until she died for real, why bother revealing himself?
Did he not have a choice?
Was he going to drive her insane so she kills herself, in true poltergeist fashion?
No, she ground her teeth, pulling her blanket to her chin. Not going to happen.
Real or not, she didn't ask to live or die. She didn't do anything wrong and she sure as hell wasn't going to let some phantom in a black Party City cloak ruin her life. She was going to go on, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, because she had things to do.
Places to be.
Something shifted in the corner of the room, her eyes barely catching the glint of green in the shadows before it disappeared. Wrinkling her nose, she rolled her head back over and squeezed her eyes shut. It wasn't her problem.
So she recovered slowly, taking her time to heal and going to the doctor when she was supposed to. She took vitamins and carefully stretched sore muscles and soon, she was on her way back to the city. Piper insisted on driving her the whole way, not leaving until she was safely unpacked and secured in her apartment, and then she was alone.
Which wasn't a problem.
Because she was going to live her normal life.
From time to time, she would see a figure lounging in the living room, slouched and bored, but she ignored him. They didn't speak again, not even to assert boundaries. Curiously, she knew he never took a step in the bathroom or bedroom.
She wondered why, but she shrugged it off and purposefully suppressed her questions.
Her raised goosebumps at his presence didn't bother her after a few days, casually blooming when she ran errands or went back to work, but she did get annoyed when she was drenched in freezing air for no reason. New York had pockets of concentrated heat and she would rather sweat through her shirt instead of shivering so hard her teeth chattered.
It bugged her so much, she broke her two week silence to call him out on the subway.
"What do you mean?"
Annabeth quickly typed, "you're freezing, knock that shit off"
"I can't help it," he shrugged, holding onto the rail next to her. "It's just a thing I do."
She huffed and replied, "do you have to stand so close???"
"Listen, when you die, I'm gonna make sure I'm there to get you immediately."
"what's the rush"
"You weird me out."
She glanced up from her screen, squinting at the man in black. It was the first time she had seen him in the daylight and the only thing she could really notice was that he in fact wearing a hoodie, not a cloak.
It grounded him.
He looked up from her phone, almost confused she was looking at him and she kept looking just long enough to assert her dominance before typing, "as if im the weirdo here".
"I never came back from the dead."
"neither did i"
"Sure."
"im not some god" she shook her head. "it was an accident, all of it was"
"I know."
She tapped her nail on the glass, staring through the throngs of people in the crowded car. Not one of them noticed her travel buddy, not even the guy standing halfway through the man's shoulder.
"I," he scratched his neck, hood falling down. "I don't have all the answers you need, and I'm sure it must suck."
"so?"
"So I'm sorry, okay? If it makes you feel better, this is gonna suck for both of us."
She snorted. "how is this putting you at a disadvantage"
"Well I can't leave, can I? I can't keep doing my job, I can't help anyone until I've helped you."
"strong use of euphemism"
He rolled his eyes and ran a calming hand through his hair, his messy hair. Under the florescents and crammed between grumpy business men and school kids, he hardly looked like a harbinger of death.
The lights flickered.
The lights always flicker, but a chill ran up her spine as she and the man both tensed. Her body was still sore, but that was an absent concern as the train whipped around a corner. She didn't relax until they reached her stop. When the doors opened, the foreboding disappeared ad she felt stupid.
"It's nothing," she said aloud, pushing onto the platform.
"I know how subways work," he retorted, though his expression was a bit forced.
Annabeth ignored him for the rest of the day, working and barely noticing him draping over a chair in her office. He just looked like some intern doing the bare minimum for his senior thesis, and she almost laughed.
They would speak only if necessary (read: if she complained about him constantly invading her personal space or him mocking her daily routine and the disillusioned coworkers she had to deal with) and while she wasn't used to him hanging around, she didn't jump at his shadows anymore. She had begun eyeing previously nonthreatening situations with newfound apprehension, though; elevators and crosswalks and angry men storming down the sidewalks, all suddenly spiking her heart rate. The rational part of her brain said it was normal to be more afraid, she had been close to death once before.
And yet.
You're being ridiculous, she would think as she clenches her fists.
This isn't living your life as usual, she would scold as she walked faster, counting the seconds before she was safe in her apartment.
And safe was a relative term, safe was when she was awake and could protect herself from any would be threat. Once asleep, however, her mind got the best of her.
The car kept rolling and glass was wedged farther and farther into her skin with each rotation. She couldn't see, but the grinding and deafening crunch was everlasting. There was something else, sobbing and screams from the other wreck, and she was thrown out of her body, forced to watch the couple in the SUV beg and plead for help, anyone, please. She choked on gasoline and burning flesh was seared into her nostrils and the cold blistered her skin.
"She was a light to all who met her."
The crash was getting farther away and there were no cars coming to find the wreck; she was floating away. Her voice was stuck in her throat and she couldn't hold on, panic surging through her body and numbing her hands.
"She will be dearly missed."
Blood, so much blood, filled the road, mixing with the falling rain. An arm splashed onto the pavement from her car and nothing else; she gave up. No matter how she clawed or resisted, she kept drifting away from her body.
"A moment of silence for the departed."
And she woke up.
Her room was dark, all the blinds shut and her nightlight pulled from it's wall socket. The alarm clock blinked some odd early hour, she didn't need to know which one, and she shoved off her twisted blankets. Her throat was raw, her breath ragged, and she scrubbed her tacky eyes with a fist.
At least she didn't break her legs that time.
Frustrated and now totally awake, Annabeth pushed her way out of bed and yanked the door open, not bothering to flip on the hall lights as she shuffled to the kitchen. It wasn't like she was hungry; quite the opposite really. Standing indecisive in front of the fridge just seemed to calm her down. She squinted against the light, crossing an arm over her stomach as the chilly air seeped out during her search.
"No one would blame you for seeking therapy."
"It wouldn't be helpful," she muttered, moving a bottle of mustard.
"How you figure?"
"Can't get better if I can't be honest."
A soft sound of agreement drifted from the living room, probably the chair by the window; he liked to sit in that one the most.
Like the night before, there wasn't much to search through. Half empty bottles of condiments, tinfoil covered left overs from far too long ago, an open bottle of wine from even longer ago. Bottles clinked and clashed as she let the door swing shut, darkness much easier on her eyes. She could see his silhouette in the window, the lights of the city barely glowing over his features as he stared out.
He shifted, catching her gaze, and it stirred something inside her.
She went with irritation, snapping, "Don't you have to sleep or something?"
"Not exactly," he replied, rolling his neck out. "Besides, from what I heard, I don't miss it."
"I didn't used to have nightmares."
"Not all of that was my fault."
"And none of it was mine!"
He didn't say anything, definitely doing the "staring through to your soul" thing again. Annabeth felt it, she loathed it. She should have gone back to her room, if only to watch her ceiling until sunrise, but she paused at the arm of the couch.
A car beeped in the distance.
"Did I...um, did I-"
"You were screaming," he said simply. "Lucky your walls are so thick, every neighbor would have thought you were-"
"Dying?"
"I was going to say something else, but sure."
She harumphed, sinking into the couch. "You don't sound like a servant of death."
"I was human once, you know. Wasn't always so grim."
"Ha," she tucked her legs under her. "So...you were alive?"
He nodded. "A long time ago."
"Do you remember any of it?"
"I try to, but like I said," he looked back out the window. "It was a long time ago."
She blinked a couple times; how could a someone so young be so old? How could he have lived so long but not remember how he died? How did any of it happen to lead to her?
The air conditioner kicked on, droning and ruffling her hair and she wondered if he was pretending to breathe for her sake or out of habit. "Do you know your name?"
When he met her eyes, something shifted. He wasn't looking through her, he was finally looking at her.
There was something utterly human about his expression.
"Percy. It was Percy."