So... this kinda happened?

WARNINGS: ANGST, HURT/COMFORT, AND SLIGHT OOC-NESS. YAY.

DISCLAIMER: I in no way own the Percy Jackson series. If I did, you'd be getting a LOT more post-Tartarus feels.

Percy dreams of drowning.

There's water, millions of tons of water, all closing in over his head. He can't move, he can't breathe, he can't scream for help. The water presses down on him and chokes him and it's like trying to breathe liquid glass that solidifies and shatters in his lungs, making them burn and cringe and he's drowning and dying and there's no one there, no one-

He wakes up gasping, sitting bolt upright in tangled, sweat-soaked sheets. It's times like this he's grateful that he has his own cabin on the Argo II, and that Annabeth doesn't require his presence to get to sleep any longer. He loves her, he really does, and he loves her enough not to show her this... this weakness. A son of Poseidon afraid of drowning.

He would laugh if he wasn't so terrified.

Whenever these dreams occur (and they occur often), he usually stays in his cabin, sitting on his bunk with his spine pressed against the wall in the dark, legs splayed out over the blankets, head tipped back and trying to control his breathing enough so that he won't wake anyone else by hyperventilating. He doesn't try to go back to sleep. There's no point.

He had the dream his first night in the Roman camp. After the curse of Achilles had been washed away in the Little Tiber. He wasn't completely safe anymore; it wasn't almost like some special part of him had shriveled and died in that river. He brushed the dream off as some bad memory returning or something completely crazy.

Then, in Alaska after the muskeg, he wakes up in the middle of their run-down hideaway, chest heaving and eyes wide, straining in the darkness. Hazel sits up next to him, mumbling blearily.

"Bad dream," Percy whispers. "Go back to sleep." Obediently, Hazel lies back down and her breathing evens out. Percy stays awake the rest of the night.

Then Atlanta. That time, he accidentally rolls out of bed, falling to the floor with a large thud. Approximately five seconds later, he hears Coach Hedge go screaming down the hall, "DIE!" Ten seconds after that, about four voices tell him to shut up.

Percy lays on the floor for the next two hours, unable to find the will to get back into bed.

The dreams happen on and off until the incident with the freaking cornucopia.

In all honestly, Percy is so petrified at that point that he's afraid he'll just make things worse. The water was pitch black, and his powers were useless. He knows Piper was startled when he came up and practically smacked her in the face. Hades, he was more than startled. He's afraid nothing clean will come out of the horn, all tainted with fear.

And then Jason did drown, and Percy's feelings were so wrapped around themselves at that point that the relief he felt when the water came out of Jason's lungs and pooled onto the ground outweighed any fear he could've felt right at that moment.

That stayed with Percy throughout the weird games and through finding Annabeth and right up until he fell.

And then there was so much pain and terror and Percy didn't know what to think anymore, because there was no difference between his fear of drowning and his fear of everything else.

But now he and Annabeth are out of Tartarus and Annabeth's stopped dreaming of him dying every time she closes her eyes, and Percy's stopped dreaming of Bob and Arachne winning. So now he dreams of drowning, and it's not much different, only this time he doesn't know what happens in the end. He could die, or he could wake up.

It's been two weeks. Two weeks, and they're almost close to defeating Gaea. It's taken a while for them to get from point A to point B. Percy distracts himself during the day with fighting and running and trying not to die.

At night he can't run, so he drowns.

It gets bad the closer they get. He's sure Gaea's messing with most of the crew too, because they all come straggling up in the morning, dark circles under their eyes and messy hair, clothes on inside-out and backwards, armor crooked and swords clutched loosely. The girls' cheeks have remnants of salty trails, and Leo and Jason's eyes are red more often than not. Frank seems to be the most okay, but he often comes up shaking like a dog or grumbling and brushing reptile scales from his hair.

Percy tries not to think about it, like somehow that'll stop the dreams from happening, but it never works. He's always underwater, he always can't breathe, and no one ever saves him.

He supposes he should get used to that.

One night, Annabeth decides that she can't sleep and that Percy's the only one who'll help her, so she comes and knocks on his cabin.

"Hey."

"Hey," Percy replies, leaning against the doorframe. He had been planning on staying up all night, flipping Riptide around in his fingers and counting down until he could physically get up and not make anyone suspicious. "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep," Annabeth mumbles, wrapping her arms around her middle, hugging herself. "Could I... possibly... stay here? Just for tonight?"

"Sure," Percy mumbles, stepping back to let her in. He doesn't know why she even asks. He's never going to say no.

"Thanks." She steps inside, looking around before going and sitting on the bed. She glances back up at Percy, a little confused. "You coming?"

Oh right. It's after midnight, and everyone else is asleep, meaning that his odd behavior has probably been put off as him just waking up, when in reality it was hesitation. Not that he'll ever let Annabeth know it. If there's anything Percy's good at, it's not letting the people he loves get hurt.

He shuts off the light and walks over, crawling around Annabeth, pressing himself up against the wall and lying down on his side. Annabeth sighs and lays down as well, pressing her back into his chest. Percy wraps an arm around her stomach and relishes the warmth and sense of security he gets from her strawberry-smelling hair.

It only takes a few minutes for Annabeth to fall asleep, exhausted as she is. As much as he hates it, Percy's eyelids are drooping as well, and it's taking all of his self-control not to sink into oblivion, but he's so tired, and Annabeth's so warm and comforting and he closes his eyes but doesn't let his brain stop rambling about stupid stuff, like blonde hair and mops and maple-bacon and he won't dream if he's not asleep, right?

Percy opens his eyes and the salt water rushes in.

He's in the middle of the ocean, and it's dark. Dark and wet and cold. He's fine right now, simply suspended in the water like it's nothing. It's kind of relaxing, actually-peaceful and cool. He would like it if he didn't know what happened next. His hair waves above his head like an exotic sea plant. He's not swimming, not exactly, more like just staying afloat... if you call resting under thousands of cubic gallons of ocean water floating.

He remains that way for a little under two minutes. That's when a cold tide rushes by, and it all changes.

The waves start pulling and pushing him down, down, down. It gets colder, fast, and darker. He can feel the oxygen leaving his lungs, but they aren't burning yet. He still has some of his powers.

The pressure is beginning to build, and his ears pop uncomfortably. He tries to hold his breath, but it's hard. His lungs ache, and he's sure black spots are dancing in front of his eyes, but he can't see well enough to tell.

The panic starts to set in. He let's out a gulp of precious oxygen, then reminds himself he needs it. The water rushes up faster and faster and faster. He's freezing on the inside, and on the outside. His head feels like it's going to burst. Things that probably aren't water brush his legs. He struggles, trying to move his hands and feet and break free of the hold the ocean has on him, but it's useless. The water drags him so far down that it's pitch black and he doesn't know what's happening anymore, only that he's drowning and he can't break free and he can't breathe and there goes the rest of his air in a final, desperate gasp, only it's not the rest of his air, because he's still alive, but everything is wavering and spinning and it's cold, cold, cold and he's scared and there's no one there, absolutely no one-

Percy screams.

He screams and flashes upright, coughing and choking and trying desperately to get air into heaving lungs. His arm gets caught on something and he flails, yanking it free and smacking his head into the wall. He cries out again, and doubles over, heart pumping and breath going so fast that he's afraid he's going to pass out.

"Percy?" Annabeth's sitting up now, her hand on his back and his arm, trying to pull him back upright, to see what's wrong. "Are you okay? What happened?"

He's breathing too hard and too fast to answer. Annabeth moves her hand from his arm around to his chest and speaks softly. "Breathe with me Percy. Calm down. In... and out. In... and out."

He tries to make semblance of her words, but he's still in the death throes of the dream, still drowning. Still, he can feel her breathing as she presses herself into his back and he tries to copy the patterns.

"In... and out. In... and out."

For a while, that's the only sound there is, Annabeth chanting and breathing, and Percy breathing with her, his oxygen flow only hitching a couple of times. Finally, he has enough breath back that he can sit up fully, shoulders slumping, hands clasped between outstretched legs and eyes downward.

"So..." Annabeth says gently. "Want to tell me what that was all about?"

Percy wants to shake his head, but he has a feeling she won't take no for an answer. "Dream," he says, his voice quiet in the still of the night.

"Try nightmare," Annabeth corrects, giving him a small smile.

"Nightmare," Percy agrees. He can feel her eyes on him, so he elaborates. "Drowning."

"What?" There's a rare note of confusion in Annabeth's voice, and usually Percy would cheer and punch the air for giving the daughter of Athena something to ponder. "But... what?"

"Muskeg, Atlanta, cornucopia," Percy mutters. He knows that's not enough explanation, but he doesn't want to give any more than that.

"Alright," Annabeth says, her hands making circular motions on his back, half for her own comfort. "Is this like a Thalia thing?"

Percy almost smiles at the reference to the daughter of Zeus's fear of heights. "Yeah. It's stupid, isn't it?" He's afraid she'll say yes.

"No."

And something breaks inside Percy. He lets his head fall towards his chest and a strangled sort of sobbing noise erupts from his throat. He's shaking all over and he's not crying, he really isn't. Just sitting there, shaking and moaning and hiccuping and staring at his trembling hands in his lap like they'll get him out.

"Oh, Percy," Annabeth murmurs, sliding her arms around his torso and pulling him in to her chest. "It's okay."

It really isn't okay, it really isn't, but he allows his head to drop onto her shoulder as she strokes his hair and holds him tightly. They sit like that in the dark, Percy making an attempt to regain control and Annabeth pressing kisses into his hair and forehead and whispering things that Percy doesn't remember, but make him feel better all the same.

"Are you alone?" Annabeth breathes into his ear, after the only sounds in the room are the rising and falling of their chests.

Percy doesn't answer, and he doesn't have to, because Annabeth understands, and she grips his cheeks with her hands, turning so she's looking him straight in the eyes.

"You listen to me, Percy Jackson, and you remember that it isn't real, it's just a nightmare, because I would never, ever, leave you alone. You understand? I will never let you be alone. I promise."

He wants to berate her for making promises, especially with the prophecy yet unfulfilled, but it's exactly what he needs to hear and he doesn't want her to take it back. So instead he presses his forehead against hers and lets her warm breath tickle his cheek.

"Do you understand?" Annabeth asks him. He lets his eyes meet hers and nods. That's all the confirmation she needs, and suddenly, cool lips are pressed against his. His mouth opens and suddenly, air is rushing in. Annabeth is rescuing him, expelling the water from his lungs. His lips part as she breathes in, and repeats the process, her kiss hard and grounding. His lungs expand and contract with the forced air, and it somehow calms him, though the feeling is one he's never experienced and hopes he never will again, not for real.

"Never," Annabeth whispers, a kiss ghosting his lips, because now is not the time for losing themselves. "I promise."

Percy doesn't fall asleep again that night, and neither does Annabeth. They're both quiet during the next day, and by a stroke of luck there's no attack. If the rest of the crew members notice the silence or how closely they're standing or the way Annabeth presses her hand to Percy's chest and takes deep breaths with him, they don't say anything.

He works up the courage to actually get ready for bed that night, something he hadn't been able to do before. Annabeth arrives while he's standing five feet away from his bed, debating on whether he should get in it or not. She doesn't knock, just comes in silently, strips off her flip-flops and climbs into bed, shifting so that there's plenty of room under the sheets. She doesn't say anything, and doesn't have to. Percy follows, and lies down, breathing deeply and lying in her embrace in the dark for a long while.

Annabeth eventually dozes off. Percy doesn't blame her, because his eyes are heavy too and he decides that maybe, maybe, it'll be safe tonight. So for the first time since Tartarus, he allows himself to sleep.

Percy dreams of drowning.

But now, he is saved.