Chapter Text
He was back in that stupid chair. He could tell by feel alone, the warm, gold material beneath his hands. The walls had the same paintings, and water splashed around the makeshift island. The gap in the walls that should have shown the rest of the water ride only showed darkness. Darkness that seemed to be slowly closing in.
Then he looked down at himself. One glance showed the same metal as the chair crawling and slithering its way up his body. Panic set in hard, his heart threatening to rip through his chest to escape. He whipped his head around, looking for Annabeth, but she wasn’t there. He wasn’t alone, though.
“Well, well, look what we’ve got here?” sneered none other than his stepfather, stepping out of the shadows that had started engulfing the edges of the concrete isle . “Seems like we’ve got a troubled kid getting just what he deserves.” The sad excuse of a man stopped about a foot from the cursed throne, his eyes lit with amusement.
The gold up to his knees made him desperate. “Look, I know we don’t get along. You don’t like me and I don’t like you. But please, I’m begging you, help me up. This thing will kill me.” He hated begging but Annabeth wasn’t here to get him out this time. And he needed to get out.
“And why would I do that? Without you, I don’t have to worry about some punk stealing my car and taking my time and space.” The man’s ugly face turned up in a smirk. “Nah, I think I’ll just let you sit for a while. It’ll be relaxing! Besides, I’ll get a nice shiny statue after, and that gold’ll get a reeeaaal nice price.”
The gold climbing up his torso added to the sickening feeling, the dark creeping even closer. He knew his stepdad hated him but this? Letting him die so he could have money for what, gambling? No, no he had to make it to the Underworld. His mom was waiting for him. He needed to get her back.
Metallic sheen was up to his neck. He kept pleading, barely able to get the words out through his hyperventilating. His ugly, gods awful stepfather just stood and smiled as the shadows slowly overtook him. Where was Annabeth?! Gold coated his face and it was pitch black. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t move. And he couldn’t breathe. The struggle was impossible and his mind just panicked more and more-
His eyes snapped open. It was dark and he couldn’t move. Heartbeat pounding in his ears, his breaths just as fast. He tried to look down, to see if there was gold but he couldn’t move. It seemed to only confirm that he was still a statue. What was happening?!
“... Percy? You okay?” a voice from somewhere asked. He realized belatedly it was Annabeth. What was she doing here? She wasn’t just a minute ago. His attempt at a response didn’t come out as anything more than a half whine, half sob.
“Percy, what’s going on?” she said, much closer and more panicked.
“Can’t. Move,” he grunted out between gasps.
“What, why?!”
“Chair.” It was more whine that statement. How could she not see the gold?!
He heard a hum of recognition before she spoke again, with slightly less panic and more confidence than just a moment ago. “You’re not there. You aren’t, I promise.” She wouldn’t lie about this, right? But he was there, what did she mean? “Just listen, really carefully. What do you hear?”
So he did. He strained his ears. And once he focused, he could hear more than just Annabeth. He heard the cars passing them on the highway, the animals shuffling and sighing, the groan of the truck moving along. The truck. That was where he was. The realization helped jolt the panic out of him.
“We’re … we’re on the truck,” he said, finally starting to draw actual breaths.
“Mhm. Where are we going?” She sounded more relaxed, so he must have been doing something right.
He thought for a few minutes, before responding, “Las Vegas. Some casino to meet with Hermes.”
“That’s right. Can you move now?”
With a little more effort than he would’ve liked, he managed to sit himself up. The new perspective greeted him with the view of his friend, sitting on the crate he had used as a bed. “You okay?” she asked. Her concern was written all over, everything from her facial expressions to her posture.
“Uh, maybe? I’ll tell you when I find out.” That earned him a huff of laughter, which made him smile a little. “Just crappy nightmares.” He could feel his body shaking, and he silently hated himself for not being able to handle himself.
“About the chair?”
“Yeah… and my stepdad for whatever reason."
“What do you mean?”
“I-” Flashes of the day hit him, and just how terrifying the past 24 hours finally sunk in. Nearly dying twice. His stepfather setting the FBI on him. He realized just how much he missed his mom, and how worried the prophecy had made him.“I don’t know if I wanna talk about it right now.” He hated the shake in his voice, hated the tears in his eyes, but it wasn’t mentioned by either of them.
“Alright,” she responded. “Is there anything else I can do?”
Part of him said 'Please, just hold me, I’m scared and you help’ while the other said ‘She’ll think you’re weak, and she’ll be right’ . He tried weighing the options, but he just kept overthinking. Multiple times he opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out. Apparently, Annabeth could read him pretty well, as she opened her arms in invitation. He took it without hesitation.
Her arms were tight around him, an anchor to reality keeping him from being swept away by his fears. With his head buried in her shoulder, the echoes of his stepfather’s voice started to fade. If her jacket had a new wet patch from his tears, she didn’t say anything. They just sat there, basking in the fact that they were both moving, breathing, alive .
“So… what kind of movie do we watch when we finish the quest?” she asked, breaking the tentative silence.
“Not sure. Maybe the basics? Like the Disney movies and stuff.”
“... What’s a Disney?”
His disbelief gave way into a massive rant about movie culture, how the animated films were a staple of life, all while not changing positions from their hug. They fell asleep that way, and Grover woke up to both of them leaned against the wall, still somewhat entangled. The satyr decided he wouldn’t bring it up. Well, not just yet.