#good doctor whump | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whiskey-tango-matcha · 7 months ago

Text

Then & Now (M, cold)

Hiii, hope you like A LOT of hurt followed by 2-3 sentences of comfort lmao. This is Greyson fic - Grey is sick on a day he and Reed are supposed to have a date, and he's sure Reed is going to be angry with him because Trauma(TM). It's told in a flashback sort of format which I really enjoyed because I love writing blurbs of colds at different times in life lol. I hope you guys like it, please let me know what ya think, good, bad, or otherwise :)

CW: Male snz, cold, pneumonia mention, coughing, contagion mention, lots and lots of whump lmao. A little over 4K words under the cut.

Then & Now

Now

“Morning, Chef.”

“Huh-! HhITSZHH-ue!”

Elijah turned towards Greyson, who was doubled over into his hoodie sleeve, and gave him a sympathetic grimace. “Cooks finally pulled you under, hmm?”

“Ugh, like way fuckin’ under,” Greyson muttered, rubbing his eye and sucking in through his nose. “I feel like ass.”

“Sorry, dude,” Elijah said, tossing his counterpart a box of tissues. “Sucks.”

Greyson caught the box and pulled out a few just in time. “HITSZHZH-uhh!” This one, he managed to catch in the handful of tissues. He wiped his nose and shrugged. “Yeah,” he said, tossing the used tissues. “Mbostly because I was supposed to have a date tonight.”

Elijah smirked at his friend, who was pushing past the GM into their shared office. The two of them sat in unison. “Do you guys still call them dates? You’ve been official for, like, six months.”

“It’s our six-month anniversary,” Greyson said, his voice flattened by congestion. “We were going to do EMP.”

“Awww, now I’m depressed,” Elijah said. “Also, why didn’t you tell me earlier you were going to Eleven Madison? I still know people there.”

“So does Reed,” Greyson said, massaging his temple. “That’s why we were goigg. Fuck, mby fuckin’ head is pounding. Do we have any -?”

Elijah placed the ibuprofen in front of the chef before he could ask, along with a bottle of cough syrup and a decongestant. “You know we have it all,” he said, pushing an old cup of water across the desk for Greyson to swallow his arsenal of pills. “And fair enough. Well that fuckin’ sucks, dude, I’m sorry. Hey, at least you can leave early, right? Matt’s closing?”

“Yeah,” Greyson said, unwrapping a cough drop and popping it in his mouth. “I’ll head out once the rush is over. I still have to text Reee – hh...hhNTSHH-ue! HGTSHH-uhh!” Greyson doubled over, sneezed into his arm, and groaned. “I’mb gonna kill the guys when they get in,” he said, mostly to himself.

“Don’t do that,” Elijah said, placing a hand on Greyson’s shoulder on his way out of the office. “Then you’ll have to stay all night.”

Greyson huffed out a laugh and pulled out his phone. He clicked on his conversation with Reed, sighing. He did not want to have this conversation.

Greyson

9:31AM

hey babe. gonna have to cancel tonight, the cooks infected me w their plague :( im rly sorry.

The chef set his phone on the desk, prepared to either be ghosted or gaslit – two of Collin’s favorite pastimes whenever Greyson had had to cancel their plans during their relationship – and was shocked when the phone buzzed with a text almost immediately. He was almost afraid to look at his boyfriend’s response.

Reed

9:32AM

Oh, baby don’t be sorry!! what time are you off? I’ll pick you up and take you home :) we can do a sick day little date night instead!

Greyson stared at the phone, stunned. He couldn’t help it; he read the message again, then out loud said, “What the fuck?”

Then – Ten Years Ago

“Chef?”

The Executive Chef looked up from his paperwork at Greyson and sighed. “What is it, Abbott?”

“I, um – hh! HTSHH-uh! HGXTSH-ue! Snf. Umb, I just wanted to see if it was okay if I… left a little early today?” Greyson asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His chef raised his eyebrows and put his clipboard down. Oh, no, Greyson thought.

“Leave...early? And leave your clean up and prep to whom, exactly? Me?” The Executive Chef huffed out a laugh. “That’s rich, Abbott. Why the fuck would you need to leave early?”

“I…” Greyson started, but his voice gave out on the single syllable. He attempted to clear his throat. “I just… I really feel like shit? I was hoping I could, like… sleep it off, I guess. I mbean, I wouldn’t want to get anyone else sigck.” Greyson felt a cough bubbling to the surface; he tried to quell it, to no avail. The younger man collapsed into a coughing fit that felt like it lasted a lifetime.

The Chef remained unmoved. “My guys,” he said, placing a hand on his chest as Greyson attempted to compose himself, “don’t get sick, Abbott. And if they do, I don’t fucking hear about it. Understand? Because I really don’t give a shit. If you’re here, you’re here. If you decide to leave early,” he shrugged, uncaring, “then you leave for good. And Abbott, if you try to get a job after walking out of my kitchen, I promise you I will make it impossible. I know you’ve only been here a couple months, but here’s what you need to learn: put your head down and do your fucking job, and you can work anywhere in the world after this. Be a whiny piece of shit who tries to walk out on his shift, and you’ll be working at McDonald’s for the rest of you life. Got it?”

Greyson, too shocked to rebut, just bobbed his head up and down.

“Let me hear you say it,” the Chef said. Greyson cleared his throat.

“Yes, Chef,” he said. The Chef nodded.

“Now get the fuck out of my office.”

Now

“Elijah. Look at this text.”

The GM looked up slowly from the iPad where he was going over reservations for the evening. “...Why?” he asked, taking the phone from Greyson’s hand.

“Just look. Tell mbe that’s ndot weird,” Greyson said, crossing his arms over his chest. Elijah looked down, confused, and read the text. He pinched his eyebrows together just a little, and read it again. “See? Isn’t that weird?”

“Greyson…” Elijah said, handing the phone back. “That’s not weird.”

“Seriously?” Greyson asked, reading the text yet again. “It’s bizarre. He’s ndot even a little mad? C’mon. That’s weird.”

“He’s being sweet,” Elijah explained, slowly, as though he were talking to a toddler. “Did you want him to be mad? Because that’s bizarre.”

“Ndo I don’t want him to be mad. I jus – HTSZHH-ue! HRRSHH!” Greyson wrenched to the side to sneeze, which sent him into a fit of hacking coughs. “I just figured he’d want to, like, yell at mbe or something. For canceling,” Greyson finished, his voice strained against another cough. Elijah didn’t respond, not at first, and instead pressed a hand onto the chef’s forehead.

“I think you’re sicker than we thought, because you’re acting fucking delusional,” he said as Greyson slapped his hand away. “Greyson, normal people don’t yell at each other for getting sick, or having to cancel a plan. That’s, like, really twisted.”

Greyson rolled his eyes. “It’s ndot twisted, Lij you fuckin’ drama queen,” he said, then held up a finger. “Onesec – hh! Hh...hnn.” Greyson sniffled, a let out a little irritated cough. “Lost it.”

“Go back to the kitchen,” Elijah said, pointing towards the swinging doors. “Sit down. Rest. Let your medicine kick in. I don’t want people seeing this -” he gestured to Greyson, as if to allude to his entire being – “when they walk past the restaurant. Alright? Text your boyfriend something nice. Not something unhinged.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Greyson muttered, turning toward the kitchen, his phone still open to the conversation with Reed. He turned towards Elijah again before pushing through the kitchen doors. “I still say that this is the unhinged thing.”

“Go to therapy, Greyson,” Elijah said, not looking up from the iPad. Greyson rolled his eyes, pushed into the kitchen, and regarded his phone once again.

Greyson

10:07AM

thanks, babe. it’s ok, I can take care of myself. it wont be a long day, ill just grab some nyquil omw home and sleep it off. ill reschedule our rezo too, don’t worry about that. im really sorry again for canceling. if I could taste the food id still go lol.

Figuring that sounded at least relatively normal, Greyson hit send. He sat down at his desk once again and placed his head in his hands. No way he’s not pissed, Greyson thought, and he really believed it. In all his years of dating, he’d never met anyone who would respond that way; they’d at least have a snippy remark about the last-minute nature of the cancellation.

Greyson’s phone pinged once again, and he couldn’t help but grab it right away to assess the damage.

Reed

10:08AM

honey, please don’t apologize, seriously. youre sick, it happens, its no biggie :) I already moved the reservation to next week but if we need to ill move it again. james at emp said to tell you feel better btw.

Greyson blinked, dumbstruck. He started typing without thinking.

Greyson

10:10AM

you REALLY arent mad? seriously?

Reed

10:10AM

im really not mad. who gets mad at someone for being sick…? is someone at work mad at you? am I supposed to be mad..? lol

Greyson

10:11AM

I mean its a last minute cancellation. id understand if u were mad.

Reed

10:11AM

welllll….im not. is that ok? haha

Reed

10:15AM

grey…? you believe me, right?

Reed

10:21AM

greyson..?

Then – Seven Years Ago

He was moving through molasses.

Greyson placed a sluggish hand to his own forehead – you can’t check yourself for a fever, dumbass – and blinked painfully. He’d made it to work, he’d made it through the day, and he’d made it back home, against all odds. Now, he was stuck on his couch, unable to even crawl to the bathroom for a thermometer.

It had all compounded on him, was his guess. The endless fourteen hour days for the better part of two years at his thankless sous chef job. The shitty Chicago-suburbs apartment with no heat, where he froze for the few hours a week he slept. The near-constant drinking. Sure, he was only twenty-five, but what was it they said about this industry? It ages you in dog years. Yeah, that was it.

“Hh-! Hh...ITSZHH-ue! HTSHHH-ue!” Greyson sneezed helplessly into the blanket he’d wrapped around himself, and groaned. This was not what he’d imagined when he moved here from Minnesota. He’d thought it would be glamorous, working as a sous chef at a high-end hotel in a big city. He thought he’d have friends, or a girlfriend, or something. Instead, he was trapped on his couch, benched by a sinus infection and seasonal depression that seemed to last the whole year round. Fuck this, Greyson thought. He couldn’t get off the couch, but he could reach his phone; Greyson pulled up Indeed and changed his search parameters.

Actively searching for work. Location: Any.

Now

“Um… Chef? What’s, uh… what’s going on?”

Greyson paused for a moment, a crate of spoiled food held on his shoulder. He turned towards Matt, keen to answer, but instead held the crate tighter and wrenched to the side. “HRTTSHH-uh!”

“Bless you,” Matt said, an automatic reaction. Greyson nodded, turned towards the dumpster, and dumped the food in before beginning the cycle anew: pick up crate. Turn to sneeze. Dump old food. Matt wasn’t sure if he should help his boss, or go inside for backup.

He chose the former, picking a crate filled to the brim with rotten tomatoes off the ground and hoisting it into the trash. “You gonna tell me what’s up?” he asked as the two of them continued gathering and tossing.

Greyson sighed, pulled a hand down his face, and shook his head. “I thingk Reed and I are over,” he said, voice soft and throaty. Matt’s eyebrows shot up.

“What? Seriously? What did you do?” Matt asked, prompting a stuffy laugh from his boss.

“I just don’t thingk it’s going to work,” Greyson said, shrugging. “I… I don’t want to, like, play gambes. I can’t do that again, ndot after Collin.”

“Chef,” Matt said as he gathered and tossed the last milk crate, “what are you talking about? Reed is, like, the most straight-shooting guy I’ve ever met. How is he playing games?”

Greyson, left without anything to occupy his hands, just shrugged and pulled out his phone. He handed it to Matt without explanation, and the sous quickly read through the text conversation Greyson and Reed had going. Matt furrowed his brow.

“I don’t get it,” he said, handing the phone back. “He wants to take care of you, what’s the problem with that?”

“He doesn’t want to take care of me, he wants to have the upper hand,” Greyson explained, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and sitting on the step just outside the back door. “Want one?”

“Sure,” Matt said, sitting beside his boss. “I mean, you shouldn’t be smoking if you’re -”

“HTSHH! Hh-! ITZSHH-ue!” Greyson turned into his elbow, taking a long moment to gather himself before handing Matt his cigarette.

“-sick,” Matt finished. The older man shrugged, and Matt plucked the lighter out of Greyson’s hand to light both of them up, not daring to push his boss any closer to the edge. For a moment, they smoked in silence, only Greyson’s sniffles and coughs interrupting the quiet.

“Boss,” Matt said, finally, “I think you need to talk to Reed.”

“I did,” Greyson said, stubbing out his cigarette. “You saw.”

“No, I mean actually talk to him,” Matt said. The two of them stood, looking at each other – a face-off without the malice. Matt continued. “Not ignore his texts and clean out the walk-in.”

Greyson scoffed. “Matt, just because you have sombe fairy-tale love story doesn’t mbean everyone else does, too. Okay? If it’s over between me and Reed, it’s fine. I’mb better off alone, anywaa – hh! Hh… Hhhii-!” Greyson stood with his elbow poised at his face, stuck in pre-sneeze agony for what seemed like an eternity. While he was incapacitated, Matt took his phone and typed out a message that his boss couldn’t see. Finally, Greyson lowered his arm and sucked in, fruitlessly, through his nose. “The fugck are you doigg?” he asked, snatching his phone back from his sous.

“If you’re not going to talk to Reed,” Matt shrugged, unapologetic, “I will.”

Greyson looked down at his phone, which buzzed twice in his hand. Reed’s face popped up on the screen. Call from: reed <3

Then – Three Years Ago

“HTSHH! Huh! ETZSHH-ue! HRTTSHH-ue!”

“Bless, bless, bless you. Allergies?” Collin asked, not looking up from his phone. Greyson sniffled in vain, and coughed painfully.

“Ndot exactly,” he croaked from the doorway to Collin’s living room. “Baby, do you thingk you could drive mbe to urdent care, actually?”

Collin looked up and slowly raised an eyebrow. “For what?” he asked, obviously annoyed. Greyson swallowed as best he could and placed a hand on his throat.

“I thingk… I mbight have strep. Or bronchitis, or sombething. I, uh… I’ve had a fever for like. A week.” Greyson had to stop to close his eyes and grab onto the door frame, a sordid attempt to keep from hitting the floor like a rotten sack of potatoes. Collin rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a drama queen. You seemed fine when you came over last night.”

“You were asleep whend I came over,” Greyson said, his eyes still closed. “Did you ndot notice that I haven’t been over in like five days?”

Collin shrugged. “I mean, yeah, but I figured you were busy with work. You’re always busy with work,” he said, the venom in his voice making clear that he wanted to fight.

Greyson, physically incapable of fighting at that moment, just slid slowly to the ground and nodded. “Yeah. You’re right,” he said. “Ndow I’m paying the price. Please, baby. Can you please just take me? I… I really don’t feel well.”

It was pathetic. He knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself; he was fairly sure he was moments from passing out. Collin turned and made himself comfier on the couch.

“I’ll call you an uber,” he said, pressing some buttons on his phone. “You barely make time for me, and now you’re asking me to be your chauffeur? Please, Greyson.” He showed his ailing boyfriend the phone. “He’ll be out front in five minutes. Better make your way down.”

“Okay,” Greyson said, pulling himself slowly to his feet. “Thangk you.”

Collin didn’t say a word as Greyson let himself out of the apartment. He made it downstairs, and into the uber, and into the waiting room at urgent care. He made it out by himself, too, with a laundry list of prognoses – strep, sinus infection, walking pneumonia – and a handful of prescriptions. When he texted Collin later to fill him in, his boyfriend didn’t text back.

Greyson fell asleep on his shower floor and awoke to freezing water pounding on him, and a courier pounding on his door. When he toweled off and answered it, chicken soup from the local bodega and a note that read feel better -c sat at his feet. Greyson breathed a sigh of relief; at least he had been forgiven.

Now

Reed had dated plenty of men is his thirty-five years of life, and had found that there were two general categories when it came to sick men: there was the Baby, and there was the Don’t Look at Me.

Greyson though, an enigma since the moment they met, seemed to fall into a third category, a category that was, to Reed, yet undiscovered: the You Hate Me.

Reed was good with the first two categories; the Don’t Look at Me, you left medicine outside their room and texted them funny memes. The Baby, you laid in bed with them and spoon-fed them soup. Easy. Understandable. Truthfully, this was one of his favorite things about men: they were easy to crack. He figured Greyson would likely fall into the Baby category, which was fine by him – there was nothing he’d like more than to look after an ailing Greyson, to be honest. This third category he seemed to embody, though, was not something Reed knew what to do with.

“He didn’t answer when I called him,” Reed said into the phone receiver. “I just want to know what’s going on, I mean, did I say something wrong?”

On the other end of the line, Elijah sighed. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. This is just… it’s just Greyson being Greyson.”

Reed wasn’t about to take this lying down. “Hey, are you guys super busy tonight? I mean, I don’t want to be that boyfriend, but, like, can I come get him? We really need to talk, and if what Matt said is true he probably shouldn’t be, like, working anyway, right?”

While Elijah paused, Reed pulled the phone away from his ear and once again re-read the text Matt had sent from Greyson’s phone: hey reed, it’s matt. grey is sick as hell, so DO NOT take any of the crazy weird shit he says seriously, k? his temperature needs to lower by like 5 degrees before you do this, but u guys need to actually talk. he’s being stupid.

“Please,” Reed heard Elijah’s tinny voice on the other end and put the phone back to his ear. “Please, come and collect him. I’m begging.”

Reed stood from the couch and grabbed his keys. “Give me twenty minutes. I’m on my way.”

Then – Two Years Ago

“Heyyy, baby, cand I buy you a dringk?”

The girl leaned back, her face marked by disgust. “No, thanks. Save your money and get yourself some NyQuil,” she said, disappearing into the crowd. Greyson huffed out a sigh and coughed into his hand – a long, crackling sound that made the other bar patrons inch their chairs away.

“She’s right, you know,” the bartender – Skip, Greyson had learned his name was a few weeks back when he had started coming in every night – said, filling Greyson’s shot glass yet again. “You need to go home.”

“And yet you pour mbe another drink,” Greyson said, knocking back the shot. “The duality of mban. NGTXSH! HTSHH! Huh-! HRRSHH-ue!” Greyson covered his mouth lazily with one hand, wiped it on his pants, hand held the glass up to indicate ‘another’.

“Bless you,” Skip said, not pouring the shot. “Greyson, seriously: go home. You sound fucking awful.”

“Are you cutting mbe off?” Greyson asked, his rheumy eyes meeting Skip’s over the bartop. “Because unless you are, I’mb staying.” He coughed again, into his elbow; the cough was quickly becoming a problem. He’d had a cold two weeks ago; the symptoms had been mild, but the cough had hung around. When he caught whatever-the-fuck this was two days ago, the cough had turned from an annoyance to a pressing issue; he should go home. He should go to the doctor, he should take a day off, he should, he should, he should.

But he wouldn’t. He would stay, and he would drink until he was kicked out, then he’d pass out on the train and not make it home to sleep. He’d go to work at seven AM and stay until midnight and do it all again.

“I’m not kicking you out,” Skip sighed. “I’m just saying… you should take care of yourself.”

Greyson blinked slowly. He could feel his lungs, heavy with fluid, gearing up to cough again; his head, pounding in spite or because of the alcohol; his heart crushed into a million, Collin-sized pieces. Take care of yourself. It felt impossible, when you’d never been shown how.

“This is mbe taking care of myself,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll have another.”

Now

Greyson rested his head on a case of lettuce in the corner of the walk-in. He knew he should be continuing his madness of cleaning, but he’d accidentally sat down on his fifth trip into the refrigerator, and now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up again.

Fucking Reed, Greyson thought as he allowed the cold salad box to sate the fever he had burning in his brain. Why can’t he just be up front with me? If you’re mad just say it, don’t fucking torture me.

Perhaps deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous; Matt and Elijah were most likely correct. The simplest answer – that Reed truly was just a good guy – was probably the right one. But he just couldn’t get out of his mind all the times he’d reached out, needed help and asked for it, and been shot down. He certainly couldn’t allow himself to believe that the person he was dating was truly good; he knew he’d never deserve that.

“Greyson?”

Speaking of Reed, that sounded a lot like him – was Greyson hearing things? Had he, in his fever-addled state, conjured a hallucination of his boyfriend to have a fight with? Bizarre, Grey, he thought to himself. That’s really fucking bizarre.

“Grey? Elijah said you were in here but I don’t – oh!”

Either this was a really crazy hallucination, or that really was Reed standing over him, in the walk-in. Greyson blinked hard, then blinked again, and suddenly Reed was on the ground next to him.

“Babe...it’s really cold in here. Do you think we can, um, leave?”

Greyson furrowed his eyebrows together. “Leave… and go where?” he asked, his voice cracking. “I have to… work. What are you doigg heeee...HRTSHH-ue! Huh -! HTSHH! NTSHH! IGXTSH!” Greyson attempted to stifle over and over, until Reed gently took his hand and pulled it away from his face.

“That has to hurt,” Reed said, his voice quiet and calm. “You can just… sneeze, you know. Like, regular.”

“Tryigg ndot to get you,” Greyson croaked, his eyes glazing over once again. “Youbettermov – HRRETSZCHH-ue! ITSZZHH-ue! Fuck – NGTSHHZ-ue!” Greyson sneezed into his lap, then coughed until his lungs felt sore. Reed didn’t move; he came closer and rubbed Greyson’s back.

“Bless you, baby,” Reed said, eventually.

“Thangks. Sorry,” Greyson murmured, pushing his hair out of his face and turning to look at Reed. “Why are you here?” he asked, levity out the window.

Reed let out a little laugh. “Umm, why do you think?” he asked. “You’ve been ignoring me since this morning. I got worried, since Matt said you were super sick – no lie detected, by the way, you sound truly awful –”

“Sorry,” Greyson said again, wiping under his nose. “I kndow, it’s gross.”

“Please, Grey,” Reed said, taking both sides of his boyfriend’s face in his hands and looking him in the eye. “Please. Stop apologizing. It’s okay to be sick. I don’t understand why you think I’m angry at you. I’m not.”

Greyson swallowed, painfully, and gave a little nod. “Okay,” he said, finally.

“Okay,” Reed repeated. “Anyway. I called Elijah. He said to come and collect you.”

At this, Greyson couldn’t help but cough out a laugh. “Collect mbe?” he asked. Reed smiled a little.

“Yeah,” he said. “His words, not mine.”

They both laughed, softly at first, then ramping up to near-hysteria. They only stopped when Greyson started coughing again and couldn’t seem to stop.

“Let’s go get you some water,” Reed said, helping his boyfriend to his shaky feet. Greyson allowed himself to be pulled out of the walk-in, and given a bottle of water that was sitting on his prep station. Greyson drank until the fit subsided, then regarded Reed once again.

“So… you really aren’t mbad?” he asked, rubbing his goosebumped arms up and down. Reed shook his head and shrugged off his windbreaker. He draped it over Greyson’s shoulders.

“I’m really not mad,” he insisted. Greyson nodded, seemingly satiated. Reed sighed through his nose and slipped his arms around the chef.

“Life’s done a number on you, huh?” he asked, quietly enough that it could’ve just been to himself. Greyson huffed out a sad little laugh.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, baby,” he murmured, pressing his hot head into Reed’s hair. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #coldfic #snzblr #snez #male cold #male snz #this was a fun one!#whump #h/c #but mostly hurt lol #i know it's a lot of dialogue. my apologies i just love to write dialogue and HATE to write exposition lol #which is Not Good Writing but whatever #this is my horn snz blog not my doctoral thesis lmao

104 notes · View notes

booksforevermore13 · 5 months ago

Text

Make it up to me later (I love you)

...

Summary: 4 times Percy ditched Annabeth for missions and she didn't know why, and 1 time he didn't. Angst and fluff and a lot of percabeth. AU, where Percy is a special forces agent and Annabeth is a doctor. Rated T for mentions of death and mild swearing.

Author's Note: Credits go to @redlion8123 for letting me use their headcanon while writing this fic. The idea is theirs and I am so thankful to them for letting me use it. I let myself go wild with this one, and as this is my first 4+1 fic, I hope you all like it. :D As always, I will be immensely grateful for all those who take the time to read this. Reviews will be much appreciated, and I always welcome constructive criticism.

...

"He's coding," Annabeth stated plainly, her voice tight as years of training set into place, and she handed over her scalpel to the attending nurse, starting on chest compressions.

Thirty seconds in and she knew it was of no use.

"Charge to 150," she barked as the nurse brought over the defibrillator paddles. "Clear!"

She watched the monitor burst into activity and then die down again.

"Push one of epi!" she commanded. "Resume chest compressions."

Inside, a thin veil of panic was taking over her chest. This man couldn't die, she thought to herself. She'd known Henry for far too long, attended his wedding, been in the room when his daughter was born. She couldn't afford to lose him.

"Charge to 200," she said, peering intently at the chest monitor. A minute had already passed. With his condition, a minute was too long to last.

She waited with bated breath as the shock passed through his body, and then sighed in relief as she saw the heart monitor changing.

"ROSC," she stated, her heart hammering in her chest. "I'll finish off the surgery, and then we'll move him to ICU for further monitoring."

Voices around her agreed in unison as she was yet again handed her ten-blade and forceps, as yet again, her fingers descended into the chest of a decade old friend.

Annabeth really needed a break.

…

She sighed as she walked through the halls of the hospital and reached her office, collapsing immediately on her sofa. Annabeth ran her hands through her hair, which over the years, had lost its shine and was falling apart in her hands.

She really needed to stop taking on back to back 36 hour shifts.

Annabeth groaned as her neck snapped painfully as she turned to lay on her side, her eyes settling on the wall hanging that her boyfriend had given to her on their anniversary. At just the right angle, the sunlight hit the ornament in such a way that the wall above became a mural of waves crashing against each other. It was mesmerising to watch, and on hard days, it had become her solace.

"Hey!" Annabeth turned, as Piper walked in, the familiar scent of lavenders wafting into her office. Annabeth smiled in welcome, as Piper settled in on her sofa. The latter peered in concern as she took in the resigned figure of her counterpart.

"How many hours has it been since you properly slept?"

"A couple of days at most." Annabeth grunted as she struggled to find a proper place to rest her neck in.

"Mother of Zeus, you've got to stop doing that!" Piper exclaimed, her light brown hair glinting in the sunlight, and appearing a gorgeous amber. Piper was stunning, and Annabeth had once questioned whether surgery was really the line for her instead of more fashion oriented professions. But then, Piper had put her in her place, and once she did, that was all.

"I know," Annabeth muttered, her eyes once again floating towards the waves on her ceiling. They were now a bright sea-green, and Annabeth smiled as she was reminded of the eyes of her beloved.

"You heading home?" she asked Piper, who nodded in response.

"Jason wants me back for something."

"Jason always wants you back for something."

"Yeah, well." Piper smiled fondly and Annabeth chuckled as she saw a dreamy expression settling in on her friend' s face. A year into their relationship, but Annabeth had never seen that expression on Piper for anybody else.

"You have that date too, don't you?" she fired back, and Annabeth blushed, as she looked away in embarrassment.

Piper cackled in response.

Truth be told, it was the only thing Annabeth had been looking forward to for weeks to come. Her boyfriend was an international aid worker, meaning he was more often than not, travelling to various places for his job. This meant they couldn't meet up as often as Annabeth would have liked, but it made no difference. In her thirty four years of life, he was the first person with whom Annabeth could truly let go of herself, and her job and all the tribulations it brought.

Now, three weeks later, they would finally be meeting again, and after hours and hours of surgery and stress, not that those never overlapped, those few hours she'd spend with him would make up for it.

"Few hours doing what, exactly?" Annabeth smiled, as Percy's voice resonated through her head, his crooked smile making home in her mind.

She wouldn't admit to herself, but she was completely and irrevocably in love with him.

"What's it been, a few weeks?" Piper asked, after she'd finally calmed down and gathered herself.

"Hmm," Annabeth said, "Speaking of, I should really be going now. He'll be here any minute."

Piper smiled again, that same coy expression on her face, and Annabeth whacked her as she got up from the sofa. "You're not going to change?" she yelled, as Annabeth headed towards the door.

"I won't need to," she quipped as the door closed behind her.

Annabeth laughed softly as she heard the thud of a pillow against the door.

…

Where are you?

She typed, sighing as she felt a few drops of rain on her head.

Percy was never this late. And he'd never not replied to her texts before.

She heard the ring of her phone and her hands fumbled as her fingers swiped at the screen to accept the call.

"Percy?"

"Annabeth!" She jerked away as his voice boomed across the receiver. Annabeth glared at a passerby as she hurriedly walked over to a corner on the street, ignoring the now constant slew of rain over her.

"Percy?"

"Annabeth," his voice came through again, a note of urgency in it. "Annabeth, I'm so sorry I don't think I can make it. My flight's been redirected to Chicago, and I don't think I'll be on time for the date."

Annabeth felt her heart sinking, as she mustered up the voice to answer back. "You're already late!" she yelled back, and smiled sadly as she heard Percy laugh through the phone.

"I'll make it up to you!" he yelled. "I'm sorry, I have to go now!"

"It's okay!" she said, but the call had already ended. Annabeth looked at the phone screen, willing his name back. She couldn't help it, but she felt small pinpricks of tears at the back of her eyes.

She'd been looking forward to seeing him again.

"Annabeth!" she heard someone yell her name. Annabeth looked up to see Piper in a small Bentley, Jason by her side, both of them peering at her, through the rain, "What's wrong?"

"Percy couldn't make it." she replied, as she walked over to them. "Drop me home?"

"You never have to ask." Piper said gently, as Jason smiled warmly back at her, tipping his cap in greeting.

Annabeth smiled, her throat clogged, as she got into the back of his car.

Even the rain didn't seem to appease her today.

...

"So, its like a ball, but for doctors?" Percy quipped, one eyebrow raised, and Annabeth shoved him, laughing as he feigned injury.

"It's not a ball," she argued.

"And yet, you're still going?"

Annabeth chuckled incredulously, as the couple walked hand in hand across the streets of New York. Percy had picked her up to get doughnuts, and she'd gotten the plain glazed, while he'd settled for blueberry. Apparently, her choice was extremely basic, but Percy had sneaked in a few bites from her nonetheless.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed together.

"You know that fairytale that little children like to hear before going to bed?"

Annabeth looked back blankly.

"There's a movie too."

"What-"

"The one where the girl goes to a ball and there's a prince-"

"Cinderella?" she offered and Percy snapped his fingers, elated.

"That's the one!" he exclaimed and Annabeth laughed.

"This is absolutely not a Cinderella story," she argued back, shaking her head in exasperation. Around them, people sped across trying to reach their destination in the shortest amount of time possible. It was like a race against time, but Annabeth had by now, accepted that they'd always be on the losing side.

"Of course it is! There's a ball, and there's a prince, that's me," Percy pointed to him in all seriousness. "There's you-"

"This is ridiculous. You're ridiculous." She shook her head again and Percy put his head back as he laughed, letting go of Annabeth's hand and putting it across her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

"You know I'm right."

"Absolutely not."

He made a face, and Annabeth poked him on his side, while he squirmed away. The couple walked hand in hand and they slowed down as they neared Annabeth's apartment, a small cosy set-up in a three story brownstone.

"You're sure you're coming?" she asked worriedly, and Percy turned around, taking her face in his hands.

"There'll be no prince without his Cinderella now, would it?" he said in mock seriousness, and Annabeth chuckled, shoving him gently.

She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist, while he reciprocated, enveloping her in his warmth. Annabeth closed her eyes, enjoying a moment away from the chaos of New York City.

"I'm just saying, you don't have to come."

"But I will," she heard Percy say and sighed in content. "I promise."

October had arrived and in consequence, the leaves had started falling. New York changed colour, Annabeth had observed, unlike San Francisco, which seemed never changing. No, in New York, there was always something to be seen, and felt.

Right now, it seemed orange.

"I have to go," she muttered.

"Don't."

Annabeth smiled, then raised her face to look into his eyes. Percy bent forward, kissing her softly.

"Six pm. Sharp." she said sternly as she stepped away from him, and towards the door.

"Yes ma'am."

…

Three hours later, Annabeth walked towards her mirror, checking her reflection in it for the umpteenth time.

She was wearing a light blue dress that hugged her waist and went flowing down to her ankles. Her hair had been let down for once, and her eyelashes had been curled and painted as per Piper's instructions.

She didn't look like herself.

Annabeth fussed over her earrings, smoothing her hair down, as she debated upon tying it up in a bun just for the sake of it.

Who'd care?

Percy would, she thought to herself, then realising he actually wouldn't. Annabeth smiled, as she thought about him, his ever-ready tongue that had got him into more trouble than he could account for, his eyes which seemed to understand everything and everyone in the world, and his heart, that had made room for her in the same way hers had done for him.

Sunlight flickered in through the window in her bedroom, as Annabeth paced to and fro, waiting for Percy's call.

She'd called him twice, and he'd disconnected every time, and Annabeth was slowly getting worried.

Her phone pinged, and she unlocked it, scanning through Percy's new message.

I'm sorry

'What?', she thought to herself, and called Percy again.

This time, he picked up.

"What the hell, Percy?" she barked into the phone, sensing Percy wincing on the other end.

"Someone I know got into an accident," he explained hurriedly, but Annabeth snapped.

"What in the world are you talking about? What accident?"

"Uhh.." Percy stammered, "car accident. It's bad, and I'm so sorry -"

"Cut it out, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth sighed. "Do I need to go to the hospital? How bad is it, do I-"

"No, no," Percy denied, and Annabeth frowned as static came through the other end. "You don't need to do that. You just go to the party. You don't need to come, it's fine. It's okay."

"Percy - "

"I'm so sorry, Annabeth. I know I promised."

Annabeth bit her lip, stopping it from trembling. She ran her hands through her hair, messing up her little hairdo, as she resigned herself to the bed.

"It's fine," she said, more to convince herself. "It's okay."

"I'll make it up to you."

Annabeth nodded, feeling like a jerk for feeling like this, as static came though the call, and it disconnected. She blinked away rapid tears, not wanting to ruin her makeup.

She hadn't wanted to go to this party alone, but she'd make do.

Annabeth sighed, letting her hands fall down to her sides, composing herself for the upcoming slew of discomfort.

Cinderella would have to go alone, she quipped to herself, smiling sadly.

...

III

...

They'd fallen into an easy schedule after that. On the days he'd be in New York City, he'd come to pick up Annabeth at the hospital at the end of her shifts. He'd become popular among the nurses, having won them over by his quick wit and charm. Around the hospital, he'd started being known as Doctor Chase's new guy, something that Annabeth had secretly liked.

However, an incessant suspicion had settled itself in her head that something was up with him. With his untimely disappearances and excuses that didn't line up with each other, Annabeth had that feeling in the back of her mind that something was wrong.

Piper and her had chalked it up to her paranoia.

Today had been one of her worser days. She had lost two of her patients in a span of three hours from each other, and each time she had had to listen to the daunting sound of the heart monitor flatlining.

Ten years as a cardiothoracic surgeon, and she could still never get herself accustomed to that sound.

All doctors unanimously agreed that the worst thing about losing a patient was telling their family. There was nothing worse than to see their expectant faces as they approached them, and then seeing the light leave their eyes. Annabeth had once been on the receiving end of it, and till date, she could never decide which evil was better.

Worst of all, their faces always seemed to stay with her.

"Miss Charlton's mother, please," she asked the receptionist, Margot, as she reached the waiting room.

Margot pointed to a seat at the extreme right corner at the back of the hall. Annabeth sucked in a big breath, steeling her nerves as she entered the room.

Her heart hammered painfully as she saw the woman get up and run to her expectantly.

"Ma'am," she began softly, but Annabeth could already see that the woman had understood.

"No-"

"Ma'am, the moment I opened up her heart-"

"My baby," the woman wailed, clutching at her heart, as she staggered towards the bench beside them.

Annabeth looked to the ground, her chest feeling tighter by the second. She didn't even think she knew the mother's name. Annabeth had always addressed her as Mrs. Charlton. Or Evelyn's mother.

Curse the Gods.

It was protocol that the doctor couldn't leave until they had informed the guardian about the happenings in the O.R.

After all, it was their ward the doctor had been operating on. It was their ward the doctor had killed. Annabeth had killed.

She sucked in a breath, blinking back tears as she approached Mrs. Charlton again. Annabeth had no right. No right to feel what she felt, when a mother in front of her had lost her baby.

Mrs Charlton howled in her grief.

"Ma'am," she said, and she stepped back as the woman turned on her, her eyes blazing, clouded with grief and anger, as she walked over to Annabeth and slapped her across the cheek.

Annabeth gasped, her hands flying towards her cheek, as she staggered away from the woman in front of her.

"You killed her," she snarled.

"I," Annabeth stammered. "I," she said, her voice breaking.

She tried to explain, but then turned and ran.

…

Outside, she took her phone out, ignoring the looks that she was receiving, as she dialled Percy's number, hoping to Zeus he'd pick up.

Still sobbing, she slipped into an empty on-call room, locking it shut as she sank to the floor, her legs trembling, the emotions of the day catching up to her.

As the call disconnected, she frantically dialled his number again.

"Hey, Annabeth," she heard his voice, and scrambled to put the receiver close to her ear. "I'm sorry, can I call you-"

"Percy," she sobbed, completely breaking apart, as she tried desperately to get herself under control. She'd killed that girl, and that was all she could think about.

"Annabeth?" Percy's voice turned frantic. "Annabeth? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where are you?"

"No, no, no," she shook her head. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she blubbered. Somebody was yelling behind Percy, yelling at someone, at him? Annabeth heaved in a breath, as she fumbled to reduce the call volume.

"Hey, hey," Percy said. "What's wrong? Where are you?" His voice seemed urgent, and the person behind him was still yelling, making things inside her head seem even more deafening.

The voice in her head was mocking her for trying to find comfort in her boyfriend when she had just left a life destroyed, not a few metres away from her.

Annabeth stifled a sob, as she answered. "I'm at the hospital. I just…I just, had a bad day."

"Fuck, Annabeth," Percy said, her voice growing more frantic by the minute.

Annabeth jerked away from the phone as a weird static came up, followed by Percy yelling that he'd call later.

"No, wait," Annabeth cried, as the phone disconnected, "Wait!"

She screamed into her hand, pulling at her hair in frustration as she flung the phone away from her.

Tears leaked out, as the day's events flashed across her mind. The first patient, who'd been a John Doe, then Evelyn, Evelyn's mom, and now….and now Percy.

Annabeth heaved out a sob, as she finally rested her head against the door, her body slumping in defeat. She closed her eyes, and let herself be lost to the world.

Days later, Percy appeared at her door, enveloping her in his arms. With him, came an excuse and the sound of Annabeth's heart breaking.

...

"Can I see the trauma entry records for last month?" Annabeth asked the nurse behind the counter. She had a slight idea her name was Olivia, but Annabeth had never met her before other than by word of mouth from the other nurses.

"May I know why, Doctor Chase?" the nurse(Olivia?) questioned, as she got up from her chair, rummaging under her desk for a second, before she got out a slim file, filled with patient records.

"I just," Annabeth hesitated, "I just want to check something."

Olivia nodded, handing her the file, and Annabeth flipped through it, looking for the records under July 15. A few broken bones, a heart attack, and yes, a car accident. For a second, Annabeth's hopes were lifted, a cruel irony, until she saw that the time of entry had been at 11 pm in the night.

She had called Percy in the evening.

Annabeth felt her heart sinking as she read through the contents of the patient record, eyes flickering back to the time of entry.

11:58 pm. Annabeth had talked to him that evening at 6:59. She knew because she had checked.

"Everything okay, Doctor Chase?" the nurse questioned, and Annabeth hurriedly blinked back tears as she closed the file, returning it back to her.

"Yeah," she managed to say, "everything's fine." She turned to go, before pausing and briefly turning back. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name - "

"Olivia. Olivia Hansley."

Annabeth smiled, nodding in thanks, then turned to go.

…

There had been no flight redirected to Chicago either. There hadn't been a flight in the first place.

Annabeth sat down heavily on her sofa, running her hands through her hair. He had bailed on her. Percy had bailed on her.

Already, a lump had set in on her throat, as she clenched and unclenched her fingers, trying to distract herself.

She had been cheated on once by her ex. Annabeth wouldn't be surprised if Percy had done that to her too.

She stifled a sob, raising her head as her eyes fell on the mural that he had given to her. Again, the waves seemed iridescent compared to her bland grey walls, but this time, unlike all the other times when it had managed to calm her, Annabeth felt enraged.

He had lied to her so many times. Disappointed her, left her waiting while he screwed some other girl.

But still, it was Percy.

And until a few hours ago, Annabeth had felt that she had known him. Known him just like he had known her. She had fallen in love with the boy with the green eyes and crooked smile. Who had shown up when she'd needed him Who'd brought her back from the broken shell of a person that she had once been.

He at least deserved a chance. And Annabeth hoped to all the gods of Olympus that she was wrong. For once.

She got up from her sofa, dialling the ever-familiar number on her phone. She heard it ring once….twice…..thrice, then heard Percy's voice on the other end.

"Hello?"

"I want to meet up," she declared, her voice assuming the one she adopted in the operating room, when she meant business and nothing else.

"Annabeth, what?" Percy's voice came through the other end, and again, she could hear the familiar sound of static, that she had gotten used to on calls with Percy.

"I want to meet up," she repeated.

"Annabeth, I don't think I'll be able to -"

"Why?" Annabeth demanded, anger coursing through her veins. "What could you have possibly going on today, on a Saturday, that you won't be able to meet me for a few hours?"

"Annabeth, I'm sorry - "

"I'm so sick of you apologising," she interrupted. "What, you have some flight that's been redirected to the Philippines now, or somebody's dying again? Is it some other girlfriend that I don't know-"

"Annabeth, just hear me out," Percy's voice reverberated through the speaker, but Annabeth could hurl her phone at the very mural he'd given her.

"What, Percy? What can you explain? Because I have waited for you for so many months, overlooked all of your excuses," her voice broke, but she went on, "hoping…praying that you weren't like all the other guys who had left me hanging."

"Annabeth-"

"But you ... .you have completely exhausted me," she finished, sinking down on the floor, back against the wall, a stray tear escaping down her cheek. She gulped, breathing in deeply through her nose, but the lump was still there, hurting her throat.

"Just give me a chance to explain," his voice came through the speaker, and Annabeth shut her eyes, willing the past few hours to just go away.

"Explain then. Right now. Explain to me why you've been lying to me for the past few months," she said into the phone, voice clogged with desperation.

"I…..I can't," his voice came through again, and Annabeth closed her eyes, finally letting her tears flow.

Percy went on. "Not right now. Just… just one day. Give me one day, and I'll tell you everything. Please."

The sun was setting as the last few rays came pouring into the room, lighting up a few select tiles on the floor. Annabeth stifled a cry, as she snapped back.

"Don't fucking call me again, Percy."

...

I'll come. Jason will drop me.

Annabeth saw Piper's text, her fingers flying over the keypad.

Don't. I'm fine. I'll come over tomorrow.

Annabeth watched as the familiar three dots appeared on the screen, indicating she was typing again. Annabeth sighed, then typed back.

It's 3 am already. I just need some time alone.

The dots disappeared. Then a message popped up.

I'll be there first thing tomorrow.

Annabeth smiled sadly, then switched off the phone. Her phone screen flashed as the clock turned to three, and she sighed.

Outside, the night had taken on its darkest, the wind blowing against the window shutters, making the room inside deafening. The night felt like her, had become her, and Annabeth could barely do anything without being reminded of the hurt in her chest.

Try as she may, she couldn't shake it. Hadn't ever even met with this hurt before.

Annabeth had fucked up. After Luke, she had vowed to neve give her heart away to anybody ever again. But then Percy Jackson had appeared, and got under her skin. And try as she may, she hadn't been able to stop it.

Annabeth buried her head in her pillow, letting her tears soak into the linen.

Outside the storm raged on, unrelenting, unyielding.

How Dickensian indeed.

Then, the bell rang. Annabeth jerked up from the sofa, immediately reaching for her phone. Was it Piper? No, Piper had a key. She'd walk right in.

Annabeth crept closer to the door, her thumb just inches away from dialling 911. She'd seen reports of people being robbed at gunpoint by late night visitors. She'd even treated them in the ER.

The bell rang again, and Annabeth hyperventilated, furiously typing in the digits, hands trembling, when a voice came through.

"Annabeth, it's me!" the voice yelled through, and shestilled, her heart in her throat. "It's Percy, don't call the police!"

Annabeth frowned, phone away, as she slammed open the door, wincing at the onslaught of the wind against her face. She glared at Percy, who was heavily leaning on the wall beside her, hand on his side.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded, eyes flashing, her back against the harsh drops of rain.

"Just hear me out, Annabeth, please," Percy begged, and for the first time in a few weeks, she looked into his eyes, really looked and saw, to her surprise the desperation in his face, an emotion that she had never before seen on him.

"Are you going to lie to me again?" she bit back, and Percy tilted his head, his eyes boring into hers.

"Just the truth," he replied. "Nothing else."

She glared at him, and then let the door open wide. Percy got up, shuffling forward, before his legs buckled. Annabeth rushed forward and caught him before his knees reached the ground.

"The fuck," she muttered. It was then, her eyes scanned over his body, noticing the gaping wound on his side. It was why he was leaning against her wall, and looking at it now, the blood had seeped into the wall as well. On top of that, he was soaking wet too.

"I'm fine," Percy muttered, looking at her expression, but Annabeth looped his hand around her neck, as she hauled him up. Percy grunted, but complied as they both shuffled into the house, Annabeth kicking the door shut in the process.

Once inside, she settled him on her sofa, before rushing into the kitchen, taking out the rubbing alcohol and the first aid kit. On second thought, she got up a few select pain meds as well, before sprinting back towards him.

"How the hell did this happen?" she demanded, as she cut open his shirt. Annabeth cursed internally, as she touched his cold skin, knowing it was because he had been in the rain for so long.

"I…" Percy hesitated.

Annabeth raised an eyebrow challengingly, as she examined the wound. In the light, she could see a few bruises forming on his face as well, and not for the first time, she wondered what he had been up to.

"Bullet graze," he muttered, and Annabeth smarted back.

"What?" she cried out. "What the fuck do you mean by a bullet graze?"

"I…"

"No, don't speak," she commanded. "Wait until I've patched you up."

Under the yellow light of her tungsten bulbs, Annabeth poured the rubbing alcohol on his wound, ignoring his wince, as she pulled out a cauterised needle and thread from the first aid box.

"I'm going to stitch you up, okay?" she said, gently swatching a generous amount of numbing cream on his wound.

Annabeth worked on the stitches, her fingers flying over the broken patch of skin in record-breaking speed, trained from years and years of practice and experience.

She noted briefly how he barely winced, and as she finished up, wrapping a roll of gauze around his abdomen, Annabeth noticed Percy's eyes on her, silent through the entire ordeal.

She handed him a towel instead and a pair of shorts that he had left in her house last time he had been there, which now that she thought about it, had been over six months ago.

The familiar burst of anger ignited in her veins again, as she turned away from him, giving him the space to change. She wrapped up the gauze and needle in a cellophane plastic, all the time being acutely aware of the deafening silence in the room. Annabeth disappeared into the kitchen, sucking in a few heaving breaths before going back into the room again.

Percy was now standing beside the sofa, waiting for her.

"Sit," she commanded, and Percy opened his mouth, as if to argue, but she wouldn't hear of it. "You'll rip the stitches."

He nodded, facing her as she leaned opposite to him, biding him to start.

"I lied." He said, hsi voice barely above a whisper, his voice hoarse as if he had been yelling for a long time.

Annabeth said nothing.

"I lied about my job. About what I do," he admitted. "I am not an international aid worker, or whatever the fuck I told you I was," he said, his eyes looking straight at hers.

"I work in the special forces," he ended, and Annabeth imperceptibly sucked in a breath. "I work for an organisation, named Olympus. They give me my missions, and I carry them out. They give me my orders, and I follow them."

Annabeth's eyes softened, and she dared to ask. "So, all the times you lied to me -"

"I was in Jakarta. Slovakia. Portugal. Venice," he finished. "While I'm working, I'm in multiple places at once. The only time I'm at one place is ... .is when I'm with you," Percy's voice broke, and he looked away.

Annabeth gulped, her mind running through all the scenarios where she'd sensed something wrong, where Percy had had to leave suddenly after some call in the middle of their date, the number of times he had not been able to meet her for something after being excited for the same for much longer than her. It was all falling in place for her.

"And," Annabeth paused. "And, what does this entail?"

Percy looked back at her. "I'm breaking enough protocols to tell you this anyway," he chuckled bitterly. "But, I….I have lied to you about everything I do. I have let you down, but," his voice broke, "I have never lied to you once about how I feel about you."

Annabeth felt a lump rising in her throat.

"When I met you," Percy said, his voice heavy, "you were this brilliant cardiothoracic surgeon I'd met in the ER, who'd looked at me once and deemed me too far gone for my own good. And I was. My life is full of people who I've killed in order to protect myself, who've died in my crossfire, and those who I've killed under orders."

Annabeth watched as a few tears streaked down his face, landing on his hands. She frowned, blinking back her own tears as they threatened to overcome her.

"I'm a murderer," he went on, and Annabeth winced. "I kill people for a living. But then you…you have shown me how different life could be from my own, and I've fallen in love with it. I've….I've fallen in love with you."

Percy looked up at her, and Annabeth gasped as their eyes met, both of them overcome with emotion. She had pushed this man to the edge, hoping he'd leave her, but he'd come back. He'd come back.

She stepped forward, hesitating, before Percy gently caught her hands, pulling her over his lap. Annabeth yelped, before rushing to get up. "Your wound -"

"I'll be fine," Percy interrupted, one hand slinging around her waist, holding her in place.

Annabeth let her hand rest on his cheek, wiping away the tear trails on his face, as she felt a light shudder pass through his body.

"I can't lose you," he whispered, letting a few of his tears escape again.

"You won't," Annabeth replied, letting her forehead rest on his. "I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance-"

"No," Percy shook his head. "You…you have done everything right. I…" he shut his eyes tightly., shaking his head again. "I quit."

"What?" Annabeth jerked back. "What do you mean?"

"I quit today after I got back from my mission. I've been wanting to for so many years now, and after last night, I….I just couldn't afford to lose you to do something that was about destroying everything around me and losing everything I'd ever loved. I can't. I can't keep doing this job, leading this life anymore."

"Percy," Annabeth whispered, her voice heavy with tears.

"Annabeth," he said back, cracking a smile.

"I love you," Annabeth settled on saying. She smiled, looking into the eyes of the man she loved. Yes, she could say that now. She loved him.

Percy's eyes shone with tears, as he raised his hand and cupped her cheek, raising himself just barely above the sofa to capture her lips in his. And unlike all the kisses they had shared before, this one was full of fervent passion, as the both of them clung to each other, sharing a mutual sense of need, brushing away tears and letting the midnight rain in.

"I love you," Percy whispered back.

Outside, the storm eased, as the rain found in itself the grace to die down into a drizzle. And as the soft pattering of the rain lulled into a wind that soothed away the lashes of the day. Annabeth drew back, eyes furrowed in question.

"So, your bullet graze is a -"

"Crossfire. Stray bullet," Percy accepted, wincing as he shuffled to get into a more comfortable position.

Annabeth nodded, before declaring. "I'm making an executive decision that you need to sleep."

Percy chuckled, complying as she helped him lie down on her sofa, getting up to go, before he pulled her back close to his chest, snuggling together, their warmth blending together to create one.

"I'm sorry I got blood on your coach," Percy muttered into Annabeth's hair, resting his head over hers.

"Make it up to me later," she smiled back.

"I'll do a lot more than that tomorrow," he replied, an evident smirk in his voice, and Annabeth laughed.

19 notes · View notes