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After years of his absence from her life, Percy suddenly seems to be everywhere. To Annabeth, it feels as if the universe has decided to make up for lost time. However, logically the fact that the Hunters of Artemis are stationed on Long Island is the more likely culprit. Everyone knows that’s where the immortal spends most of his days. Percy is a minor sea god, tasked with sea breeze and undercurrents. Unlike most gods, he does not spend any time at Mount Olympus outside his required stays for solstices and the like.
Annabeth had tried to avoid mentions of Percy in the early years after she pledged herself to the hunt. She knew that knowledge of him would only make the ache in her chest worse. But Percy was just as famous in godhood as he’d been as the prophecy-chosen big three demigod, so like it or not, she still heard of him. She knew he lived on Long Island to be close to his still-mortal mother. She knew that he made a point to visit Camp Half-Blood. That he helped Chiron train the newest generation of demigods. After all, this had been a part of the deal he’d made. The gods had to claim their children, and in return, Percy would guide them, vouch for them, train them. It was a selfless, genius plan and so so Percy that it made Annabeth want to laugh and cry. She remembered her own time on the streets before making it to camp, the dozens of unclaimed campers whose faces grew more hopeless with each year, and felt fiercely proud that Percy had finally made the gods do something about it.
Of course, this did not make her own stay on Long Island any easier. The hunters are camped out on the beach, hunting monsters the first time she catches a glimpse of him.
Annabeth is sparring with one of the other hunters, a nymph called Thea. They’re circling each other, Annabeth with her daggers drawn and Thea with a hatchet when she sees the silhouette of a man walking towards them on the sand. He’s wearing jeans and a green and blue checkered flannel to combat the cold March air. When he gets closer, she takes in his wavy black hair, and feels her heart skip a beat as she recognizes him.
In the time it takes for her to process Percy’s arrival, Thea takes the opportunity to sweep Annabeth’s feet under her in one swift motion, leaving Annabeth on her back staring at the cloudy sky above. Her face flushes with embarrassment at having been caught off guard, and she shoves all thoughts of her audience to the side as she rocks back onto her feet, blades drawn and stance defensive. Annabeth lunges at Thea, and the resulting match is one full of skill and athleticism. It ends with Annabeth the victor, her dagger pointed at the center of Thea’s chest.
When she looks up, Percy is watching her. One corner of his mouth is turned up into the suggestion of a smile. He’s still a few feet away from them, a silent spectator, but she feels his attention like a brand on her skin.
He shows up around the same time every day that week. Sometimes he makes small talk with the other hunters if they approach him. Annabeth doesn’t approach him. But she catches him looking at her almost every time she turns his way.
What are you doing? she wants to ask him. What do you think of me now?
She gets the opportunity to ask him at the end of that same week. The hunters are packing up camp when Percy arrives. They’ve hunted all the monsters in the area that they’d planned to, and Artemis wants to move on. So they’ll go.
Nevermind that the thought of putting distance between herself and Percy again makes Annabeth feel a bit sick. She’d tried not to let herself get close, to open up the floodgates of emotion she’d kept tightly sealed since she’d cried in the hallways of Mount Olympus. But his mere presence had been enough to make her remember.
Suddenly, there is someone outside her tent. She knows in her soul who it is even before Percy’s voice, pitched low in a whisper, breaks the quiet.
“Hi,” Percy says, lifting up the tent flap.
“Hi,” she responds, not knowing what else to say.
“You’re leaving,” he says next. The words sound heavy, final.
“Yes,” Annabeth says. She’s not sure what expression is on her face, but frown lines appear between Percy’s eyebrows. He heaves a heavy sigh.
“Annabeth, can we go for a walk?” Percy asks her. His voice has a rawness to it that sets off alarm bells in her head.
This is about something bigger than him and I, she realizes. After all this time, she still knows there’s only one answer to his question, especially if Percy is hurting. And he is hurting, she can tell.
“I have to be back before noon,” she cautions. Percy nods in understanding. She watches him work to smooth his expression, but she knows better. Before they were anything else, Percy had been her friend. And she knows what sadness looks like on his face. She watches him twist the beads on his necklace absently, and realizes with a pang that it’s the same one from Camp Half-Blood.
“Lead the way,” Annabeth tells him.
They walk in silence along the waterfront for a while. The breeze that blows off of the water is cold, but Annabeth has a decent jacket and years of experience on frigid hunts to see her through. Percy’s flannel is thin, but if he’s cold he doesn’t show it. She listens to the sound of the waves on the shore and the sand crunching underfoot as she waits for him to break their silence. He leads them to a dock stretching out over the water and gestures for them both to sit on its edge before he finally does.
“My sister Estelle got engaged today,” he says. Of all the things Percy could have told her, that was one she didn’t expect.
“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Annabeth says. She racks her mortal memories for any time he may have mentioned her, and comes up short.
“She was born after I became a god,” Percy explains. “She’s turning 25 this year.” Annabeth tries to picture that, a young woman with Percy’s dark hair or his smile. Sometimes, Annabeth forgets just how much time has passed since she joined the hunt, but the thought of Percy’s sister growing into a woman in the time they’ve been immortal really puts it into perspective.
“She’s never actually met me, it was too dangerous to expose her to our world,” Percy continues. “She’s totally mortal, but it would still be too risky. It’s the same reason I haven’t seen my mom in years.” Annabeth’s heart twists in sympathy at the sadness on his face. She knows how much Percy loves Sally Jackson, how beloved she is to him and he to her. Watching her grow old from afar must hurt him deeply.
“I’m sorry Percy,” Annabeth says. Gently, she leans into his side.
“It’s not your fault,” Percy says. Still he leans into her touch, accepting the comfort for what it is. He is warm against her, and they fall silent for a moment. She knows they are both thinking the same thing. If Percy was still mortal, he could visit his mom and sister. He would probably be at the wedding himself. What might he have been to me, if our lives had gone differently? Annabeth thinks. The question keeps her up at night sometimes, a series of what-ifs that leave her restless and regretful. Annabeth feels her tongue burn with things unspoken, and here, where the wind will prevent them from being overheard, Annabeth allows herself a moment of selfishness.
“I’m really glad to see you Percy,” Annabeth admits.
“Really?” Percy asks. He sounds surprised. His eyes refocus on her, on the present moment instead of distant reflections. Percy sounds like he doesn’t know just how much she still cares, and that suddenly feels unacceptable. She at least has the companionship of her fellow huntresses to hold onto. But Percy, when he became immortal, lost his family, lost Annabeth and the future together neither have been able to admit could have been theirs. It’s too much to bear.
Annabeth knows she’s been avoiding him all week. She was trying to protect her heart, her peace. But the truth is, she forfeited those long ago. As soon as she took up her bow, as soon as Percy accepted godhood. She may as well stop pretending otherwise.
“Yeah, of course I am,” the blonde says. Boldly, she slips her hand into his, lacing their fingers together. If any of her fellow hunters saw her now, her status as a hunter, her very life even, could be forfeit.
Please, she bargains in her head. Just let me have this once. I’ll never ask for it again. In a few hours she leaves Long Island behind. She returns to the life she chose for herself before she knew any better. It's too late to change course. But here in this moment, she summons the bravery she’d lacked last spring at the solstice. The bravery to be honest with Percy, to not tell him muffled truths. He deserves that from her.
“I think I realized I was in love with you after I committed to the hunt,” Annabeth says. Her voice is low, meant for his ears only. She feels Percy stiffen against her but she barrels forward, needing to get it all out now that she’s started. “It was my last night at camp and we were all sitting around the bonfire. You were so quiet and I didn’t understand why. I remember watching the firelight dancing across your face and not understanding. Then you squeezed my hand when you said goodbye and suddenly it just dawned on me that I was saying goodbye to so much more than just friendship.” Annabeth feels the back of her throat burn with remembered remorse. “But by then it was too late to change my mind,” she finishes. “I was too young to understand what I felt.”
Percy’s hand squeezes hers. His face is full of worry for her, he knows what it could cost her to let the word love leave her lips. To admit out loud what they’d both only hinted at on Mount Olympus. But the god’s eyes are also shining. He needs this as much as she does.
“It took me longer than that to realize,” Percy responds. “But I guess that's not surprising, you always were the smart one wise girl.” The nickname, still so tender after decades of disuse, makes her breath hitch. “I’m not even sure if there was one exact moment when I realized,” Percy says, running a hand through his hair. “I think it was more that there was an Annabeth shaped hole in my life after you left,” he admits. He sounds almost shy.
“I know what you mean,” Annabeth says. She swings her legs off the edge of the dock as she gathers her thoughts.
“We were so young when they asked us to choose,” she finally settles on. She knows he can read between the lines, feel the too young, we were too young beneath the sentence. She steels herself for one last moment of bravery. Annabeth pictures Percy’s sister wearing a white dress, and thinks of how she and the man in front of her will never look 25, will never get to marry and grow old.
“I know how this sounds,” she begins, and begs her voice not to waver. The next part still comes out as a whisper, something fragile and a touch desperate, because she is desperate to tell him this. “I know it’s too little too late. But I think, in every lifetime but this one, I would have chosen you seaweed brain.” The truth of it scorches her throat on the way out. Annabeth clasps his hand in both of hers, looking him right in the eyes. She owes him this much.
Percy lets her confession hang in the air for a moment. His sea-green eyes are wide and shiny with emotion. He seems to weigh each of her words, clinging to the truth of them. Then Percy wraps his arm around Annabeth, tucking her solidly into his side. His hand goes to rub at her opposite shoulder in soothing patterns.
“Me too wise girl, me too,” Percy says. His voice is gruff but also steady, certain. She knows she can’t kiss him, but she aches with how much she wants to. He seems to see it in her eyes though, because he pulls her hand up to his mouth. He kisses the back of it fast, a brief press then gone, but it’s enough to have Annabeth blinking back tears again. She doesn’t want to cry, she won’t, so she tilts her head skyward and blinks until her eyes stop stinging.
In any other lifetime, I’d choose you in a heartbeat, she thinks. Percy holds her close for another long minute. Then, just like thirty years ago, he has to let her go. The hunt is waiting for her.