Summary: He's been gone for ten seconds. The seconds keep ticking, but Annabeth can't take her eyes off the tile floor where his feet were. She can still feel his warmth, if she focuses. OR - Percy's leaving for the Marines, and Annabeth can't go with him.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series, the Heroes of Olympus series, or characters I adopt from those books. Merely the characterization and plot are mine. I also don't own any books, movies, games, music, et cetera that I reference.

Author's Note: I am not in the Marines, nor do I know anyone in the Marines. I apologize for all of the probable inaccuracy, and I don't claim to know anything.

;;;

He's been gone for ten seconds.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

The seconds keep ticking, but Annabeth can't take her eyes off the tile floor where his feet were. She can still feel his warmth, if she focuses.

Twenty.

Twenty-one.

Twenty-two.

Twenty-three.

Twenty-four.

Twenty-five.

Eight months, she thinks. She even says them aloud to try them out for size, but she can't even hear herself speak. She's not even sure when the next time is that she'll hear him speak, is the thing. She'd begged him to use every phone call on his mother and his younger brother, but she's never regretted anything more. She's hoping he'll do that thing where he doesn't listen to her, for once. She's hoping he calls.

She's done this before. She's made it twice. But never without his calls. Never without a letter.

There's a hand on her shoulder. She's sure it takes her longer than a normal person to finally look over, but she's glad to see that it's Sally. If anyone Annabeth knows will get it, it's Sally. "Alright?" she asks, and her voice echoes in Annabeth's ears.

"Fine," she answers, or she thinks she does. "I'll be fine."

Sally nods, squeezing her shoulder tightly. "Think you'll stay the night before you head back to California?"

Annabeth swallows thickly and nods slowly. "Yeah, I… I don't feel much like driving."

They leave the airport, and Annabeth feels like maybe she's leaving the half a heart she has left right in one of the seats. The other half is already boarding his plane, well on his way to things Annabeth can hardly fathom.

"I'm scared," she whispers, gripping Sally's arm just before they leave the airport. "I'm so scared." And it's always like this, really, the constant fear. Annabeth feels silly for ever thinking that three months was bad.

Sally doesn't answer, and Annabeth doesn't talk anymore. It starts snowing, and all Annabeth can think about is how badly Percy wanted to see it before he left.

;;

They've been married for three years, if you count the entire year and a half they were engaged, and Annabeth does. She doesn't care much for the degrading looks she gets when she states that her and her Marine have only been married for a year and a half. They got married at eighteen, and they were so in love they could hardly see straight. It's still like that, really, except… Distance.

It was never something Annabeth thought about growing up. It wasn't even something she considered until one summer day when Percy said he might join the Marines. Even then, it had been a fleeting 'but what if I miss you?' thought. To be fair, Annabeth wasn't in love with him at the time, nor did she have any true concept of what being a Marine meant. But there's still some part of her that wishes she would have understood, so that she could have prepared herself.

Though, she guesses, there's no preparing yourself for something like this. Something like never knowing if your husband is alive every time you blink your eyes open. Something like reaching over expecting to find his warm skin, but only coming in contact with a cooled bedsheet. Something like making two cups of coffee out of habit, only to leave one on the counter until it's gone ice cold.

Sometimes she feels like if she doesn't hear his voice, she'll go crazy. She's spent hours calling his voicemail over and over, pressing her phone against her ear and pretending he's sitting next to her, stuttering as he tries to record an adequate message. She's looked back at old videos she has of him from concerts they went to or days they felt were filmworthy.

Annabeth's just glad she has Sally; someone who understands Percy and Annabeth's relationship as well as anyone besides themselves could. Without Sally, Annabeth's not so sure she would have even made it the first three months while he was at training.

It's not three months anymore, though, and it's not training. It's eight months, and it's the real thing.

Annabeth is terrified.

;;

A week after he's been shipped out, Annabeth gets a call from Sally. Her voice is watery as she says hello, and Annabeth nearly drops the phone until she hears a gentle, "He's safe. He's fine."

It's something like a hot bath after you've spent all day on your feet. It's something like finding out you passed the hardest class on your schedule. It's something like finding out that your husband hasn't gotten himself killed yet.

Sally tells her every word Percy managed to squeeze in before he hung up, and Annabeth bites her nails until she can't anymore. He's safe, Annabeth reminds herself. He's fine.

She doesn't think about the implied 'for now' at the end.

;;

As a general rule, Annabeth tries to stay busy. Even when Percy is home, she always tries to find things to do.

She scrubs the house clean; finds every cobweb and clears it out, straightens every picture frame, lines up all the books on her bookshelf. She goes to the store and restocks the fridge with food that she won't eat. With food she bought specifically for someone else, but that someone's not there.

It takes her a month and a half before she calls Sally. She can hardly get out sentences through her sobs, but Sally doesn't hang up. She stays on the line until Annabeth calms down, then she says, "You should get some rest. It'll be better tomorrow."

Annabeth does get some rest, but it's not better tomorrow. It's never better.

;;

When the phone rings, Annabeth stares at it blankly. There's only two people that every bother to call her, and she talked to Sally just earlier that day, so there's no reason for there to be a caller. Unless…

She surprises herself with the speed she manages to pick up the phone, and she's gasping hello's down the line before she realizes it's the damned recorded message. "I accept the charges," Annabeth mutters, "I always except the fucking charges." She fumbles with the phone as she hurries to press the number the recording tells her to.

Her nails bite into her palm as she listens to the tones that somehow seem like hours long rather than mere seconds.

Once it connects, she means to say hello. Instead, she says, "You were supposed to call your mom."

"She told me you cried during her last call," Percy answers, and Annabeth sinks down the side of the counter as she hears his voice. She presses her forehead against her knees, tries to keep air in her lungs. "You promised you wouldn't cry."

"You promised you wouldn't leave me in the 6th grade," Annabeth responds softly. "But I guess circumstances change a little."

Percy stays quiet for a few long seconds before he seems to remember that he's wasting precious time. "How are you?"

"Fine," Annabeth breathes. "I was going crazy, but it's fine. How are you?"

He doesn't answer her, but he does say "I miss you."

Annabeth clenches her teeth, presses the phone so closely to her ear that she's scared she'll hang up on accident. "I miss you, too. Might love you a little as well."

"Might?" Percy asks, and Annabeth can sense his grin. She takes a deep breath. "Well, after all this time, I would hope so."

Annabeth smiles despite herself. "You're an idiot."

"Yeah," he says softly, "yeah, I know. Tell me about home."

She gets the underlying message of you aren't the only one who's going crazy, and she starts to talk. She explains how she bought too much food that she'll have to invite her friends over to eat. She tells him about the new book she's started, and rolls her eyes when he calls her a nerd. She tells him everything he's missed and even brings up the things that he didn't; like their first kiss and their wedding.

After a while—she has no clue how long, and she hates herself for not keeping track of every second that passed—he says her name. And it's soft, and she knows what it means, and it burns.

Her eyes are already stinging. "No," she says, "no, it's too soon, I didn't even get to hear how you are. You always do this." She's crying now, her voice trembling against her will. "You always tell me to talk, then I never get to hear you. It's not fair."

"Annabeth," Percy says again, and his voice doesn't sound all that stable either. "I need you to check my bottom drawer. Under that stupid sweater you bought me in, like, freshman year. I have to go."

"I don't want you to," she tells him, and Annabeth knows she sounds like a five year-old, but she can't help it. "I never want you to."

They have a rule about not saying goodbye, because it implies not speaking again for a while. Percy hangs up ten seconds later, and she listens carefully to every breath he takes up until the moment he's gone.

When the line goes dead, she throws the phone at the cabinets on the opposite side of the kitchen. She folds her arms over her head and tries her hardest not to cry. She curls in on herself, and cries anyways.

She's not sure how long it is before she stands up on shaky legs and makes her way to their bedroom. She's hardly been in it besides to get dressed and clean. This time, since he's been gone, Annabeth's slept on the couch. At least she doesn't roll over expecting to find a warm body, is her train of thought. If she turns over she finds the cold, hard floor.

She finds the sweater easily enough, and it's the one she remembers buying for him as a joke. It's an extra-extra-extra large red sweater with loud, orange patterns on it, and she can remember Percy's exasperated face in detail.

Annabeth feels numb as she extracts it carefully from the drawer, finding an envelope underneath.

The envelope doesn't have a letter, like she had hoped, but it has two pictures and a movie ticket from their first date. One is a picture of them at the aisle, and the second is a polaroid of him.

It's a picture Annabeth took the morning after they moved in together; one where his eyes are half open and his face is still squished against the mattress. He looks disgruntled and so himself that Annabeth presses it against her chest.

She doesn't realize there's something written on the back until she's shoving the three rectangles into her wallet.

'I'll be back' is what says, and Annabeth can't help the laughter that bubbles out of her mouth when she looks down a little further and sees 'The Terminator said that, too, but I won't drive a car through the front door, hopefully.'

She stuffs the picture in her wallet, in front of her license, and for some reason, eight months doesn't feel as long anymore.

;;;

THE END

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