Waiting:

She wasn't a big fan of waiting, but for him she would wait forever.

Annabeth Chase stands near the beach, the cool breeze whipping her tangled locks around, the smell of freshness and purity at her nose. Light, whispering waves crashing against the sand and rocks, overlapping there power. A gentle hushing sound of the mist and wind, almost as if someone was putting a baby to sleep. An exhale of humid, moist air from the lungs exploding out from the mouth. She swallows hard, tears clouding her hollow eyes that used to be filled with life. Why did everything have to take the form of him? Why did everything have to remind her of that green eyed boy she had come to love? Why couldn't she have told him how she felt, instead of just quickly pressing her cracked, smoky lips against his salty ones (that tasted good; like the sea) and disappearing into the cave?

Seven days. It had been fourteen days since he died. Or so everyone had repeatedly stated to her, trying to snap her out of the shock that had been practically drowning her for minutes upon minutes, hours upon hours- one week in total.

She never knew that an illogical, determined, stupidly loyal boy could have such an effect of her. She cringed, staring up at the sky, practically feeling her mother's disapproval for acting this way over her sworn enemy's son.

She's not exactly sure why, but she keeps on glancing down at her beaded necklace, staring at the one that stood out from the other beads and her father's college ring. The green trident. More tears spill over her grey eyes, and she rips the bead away and chucks it into the water in a heap of rage, collapsing to her knees shortly after. Her hands dug into the sand, her vision blurring with the water that was slowly cascading down her flushed cheeks. She was so stupid. Why couldn't she have just uttered those three little words before he had vanished out of her life completely? It was a simple strategy, speaking those words. Purse your lips, open your mouth, and speak them slowly and clearly.

But when she had tried to make an attempt to stammer those words out, when she had finally truly realized her feelings, that mortal girl had gotten in that way. She was pretty, and everything that Annabeth wasn't. The red headed nightmare was even kind to her, practically killing her with sweetness and her bubbly personality. She was artistic, too. Well rounded. Why couldn't the mortal be rude and obnoxious? It would make it so much easier to hate her.

Wasn't she as good as the clear sighted mortal? She wasn't as pretty as her, but she supposed that her history with Percy would counter that out. She was as smart as the red head, most probability would determine that she was even smarter.

There was only one thing that Annabeth couldn't change.

She was a demigod, and Rachel was a mortal.

If Percy wanted a shot at a normal life, then there was nothing she could do about it.

A seagull squawked in the distance, and she resisted the urge to chuck the sharply edged rock at her. All her emotions were muddled, wacked without him. She was angry, depressed, hurt, but most of all scared.

What was she supposed to do without him? The only reason why she hadn't fallen to pieces after Luke had betrayed her is because Percy was always there to put her shards back together when she began to crumble. He was always there for her. He was always going to protect her, and she would return the favor. Percy Jackson was the thing that Annabeth had grasped onto throughout her teenage years. Without him- she would just fall.

Fall to her death.

She pulled her legs up to her knees, wishing so badly that it was raining to match her hopeless attitude. (Not that it could rain at camp.)

The only answer to hopelessness was hope.

So, that's what Annabeth Chase did.

She had isolated herself on the beach and lake waiting for his return, and when she wasn't waiting in a mixture of patience and impatience she was curled up in one of Percy's sweaters, hidden underneath his wool blankets resting in his cabin.

She hadn't eaten in days.

Food didn't matter. Only Percy did.

She was certain that he had come back.

Thalia and Chiron seemed to be worried out of their mind for Annabeth's concerning behavior. At first they had given her a few days, Chiron dismissing it as shock, but when it didn't fade, he didn't know what to think. And apparently Thalia didn't either. She had begged the daughter of Athena to eat, but Annabeth had waved the offer off calling it irrelevant to the situation.

Every night she had nightmares. Horrible, gut wrenching unconscious experiences filled with Percy's imperative screams of agony and pain when the volcano erupted. She had crouched down behind a sturdy, thick wall of stone and rocks, braced herself for the aftermath, and had sobbed and cried the most she had in her entire life. She had cried when Luke was gone, the betrayer- but nothing compared to this desperate longing for Percy Jackson, the loyal, brave, reckless son of Poseidon.

She sometimes wishes that she had never met Percy, so she wouldn't have to feel this physical and emotion discomfort.

"No, I'm not leaving you!" She had clearly said it, her own hysterical screams echoing in her own mind.

But she left anyway.

If there was anyone to blame for Percy's death, it was her.

"Annabeth?" Thalia's familiar voice called out, and a snapping of a twig was heard distinctively. "Annabeth! - Oh, there you are." Annabeth quickly wiped the tears away. She didn't like when anyone saw her in such a fragile like state- even Thalia, who had known Annabeth for most of her life. She pulled her hood up, so it was partially covering her tear stricken, tortured expression and facial features.

Annabeth remained mute, the only words she spoke now was "no." and "go away." Let's not forget her signature words "he's coming back."

Thalia took a seat next to Annabeth, staring at her miserably, all of her failed attempts pressuring the daughter of Zeus. "Everyone's worried about you."

Annabeth shrugged, staring out at the lake emotionlessly.

"You've got to stop this. Do you think Percy would like to see you like this? You're probably making him feel like shit in the Elysium." Her voice was hard and cold, cutting and edgy, done with the soft motherly, nurturing trials. Annabeth was glad. She didn't personally like pity, because it made her feel vulnerable.

Annabeth could've been mad and heated at about a million different reasons other than this one, but Thalia's words bothered her, striking a nerve.

Annabeth turned to face her, narrowing her eyes, jaw setting. "He's not dead."

They remained in a pregnant pause, just listening earnestly to the tranquil waves slowly crashing upon the shoreline. At first, Annabeth had expected the waves to be angry and monstrous, but they remained as calm as ever. When she hadn't gotten his scream out of her head quite yet, she was enraged at Poseidon. Didn't he even care that his son was dead? Didn't he care that her whole world was gone?

That's when she realized defiantly that Percy Jackson wasn't dead.

Because she simply wouldn't allow it.

"He is," Thalia states, her voice weak and hoarse, but firm at the same time. "You have to let go of Percy, Annabeth. He's happy wherever he is. If you truly care about Percy, you'll let him go."

The only problem was that she didn't care about Percy.

She loved him.

"He's alive," Annabeth snaps, her face becoming coated with heat. Why didn't anyone believe her? Did they just feel content with 'letting him go?' She certainly didn't.

"And how do you know?" Thalia growls back, all patience gone. "Where's your evidence?" Annabeth sighs, despising how Thalia was coping.

"I can feel it. Can't you?"

"No, Annabeth. I can't. The funeral's in a few minutes, if you even want to bother to show up. I'm not trying to be harsh. You just have to get a grip. People need you. You can't just wallow around, waiting for a dead boy to show up. With the war coming up- Nico or I have to take Percy's responsibility. You have to take responsibility."

"Percy Jackson is not dead." She repeats confidently, staring at the long, gliding waves, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. She could practically see him already- his sea green eyes, which always glowed with amusement and vibrant mischievousness. His messy raven hair falling to the side, camp half blood t-shirt, khaki shorts, sandals. The way his forehead crinkled up whenever he was worried. That lopsided grin that he got whenever he was in a good mood.

She hadn't seen that crooked smile in a very long time.

"Whatever," Thalia scowls, climbing upward to her feet. Then, her voice softens. "Take care of yourself, okay?" She hears Thalia's combat boots walk away, leaving Annabeth alone to her thoughts.

"He's coming back," she says to herself, closing her eyes tightly. She wonders whether or not she's going mad. If Annabeth is, she doesn't notice.

He would be here someday.

But for now, all Annabeth could do was wait. Even if she spent the rest of her life waiting for a living dead boy to return to her.

"I'm waiting, Seaweed Brain," she whispered softly, her grey eyes brightening with hope. "Don't make me wait too long."

She thinks she sees a boat in the distance, but when she blinks, it's gone.

And at her feet is the green bead washed upon the shore. It splashes against the tips of her toenails, and rests in the middle of her legs.

The Trident seemed to glow brighter.

A/N: Wow that took a long time to write. I forgot how long Percy went missing, so then I had to look on google and nothing had the answer. Then, I eventually found it on a fanfiction story. Anyways, I hope Annabeth wasn't too OOC. Reviews are always welcome, along with follows and favorites!