Percy Jackson at Hogwarts

Deteriorate

Annabeth PoV

My head lolled as I lazily but concernedly watched Jason's slumped form. His eyes were glazed and breathing shallow, and though it was nothing new, it was worrying. The cell reeked of two teenagers who hadn't showered in who knows how long and the strong, irony scent of blood. Jason's head fell forwards and his eyes stayed shut, my fingers reaching for his neck instinctively. Finding a pulse, I let out the routine sigh of relief. Every time I found a pulse was a small victory because, for at least a moment longer, he was still alive. Alive and sleeping more, and tired more, and coughing up blood more. Small victories of a losing battle.

I didn't want to think like that, but there was no other sensible way to think. The odds weren't in Jason's favor and Atlas's mysterious absence was suspicious. He was planning something and I just prayed to any god or goddess that was listening that by the time his plan was in motion, we wouldn't be here. How I meant that, I didn't know yet. But I did know my false optimism wasn't doing anything to lift Jason's spirits. I still had hope that someone would come for us, but that hope was deteriorating.

Deteriorating like Jason's sick body—a morbid thought I couldn't help but wince at. Deteriorating like Jason's mind. Though he hadn't said anything, I knew Jason had started experience hallucinations. The way his eyes tracked things that weren't there, how his breath hitched in fright, eyes fixated on something only he could see, all the other signs. I didn't know what he was seeing, but I knew there was a chance it extended into nightmares, though I had no way of telling. In his state, when Jason slept, he slept like the dead—which isn't good for my heart— right until he woke up. If he was having nightmares— which I suspected as those and hallucinations often went hand in hand— then he could never escape. He would be waking up from one nightmare only to end up in another one. A vicious cycle.

They brought us water daily now, though food distribution remained as strained as in the beginning—if one could call what they gave us food, even. I used a lot of it to clean Jason's wound and the makeshift cloth bandage, having to force his clean water down his throat. I didn't know how much good it was doing, but it had to be doing something. Besides Jason's conditions, that blond boy appeared in my thoughts a lot. He was clearly a son of Athena and I couldn't understand why he wouldn't help his own sister. Granted, we didn't know each other, nor do we share any blood, but we had the same mother. Had Atlas manipulated him that much?

Strangely enough, thoughts of the blond boy nearly always led to thoughts of Percy. Percy Jackson, my boyfriend that I would probably never get to see again. Percy Jackson, who didn't even know Jason and I were— are kidnapped. I had no idea what Percy was doing in Scotland, but I hope he was safe and got back to camp quickly. I wish I could see him, hold him one last time, hug him— say goodbye. With how things are going, I doubted I'd live long enough to do those things. We'd been through Tartarus and a kidnapping is what was going to do us apart. Till death do us part, how I would have loved to get the chance to hear those words a few years into the future, but it seemed like I wouldn't even see a few weeks into the future, much less years.

Though we hadn't received any torture sessions for weeks now, lack of food—amongst other things in Jason's circumstances— was slowly killing us.

Jason's eyes fluttered open.

"Annabeth?" His voice was raspy and hoarse, reminding me of his canister of water.

"Yeah?" He blinked drowsily.

"You can take your fingers off my neck now." I sighed and nodded, reaching for his canister of water. Popping open the lid, I pressed the mouth of the canister to his lips and tilted it. When he finished drinking, he bit the metal with his teeth and I pulled it away. Screwing the lid back on, I set it next to me in case he wanted to drink some more later. Sighing, Jason closed his eyes, and when they didn't open a second later, I reached over with two fingers to check his pulse. "Annabeth," He gritted out, his eyes snapping open.

"Sorry, I'm just worried." Jason sighed again.

"I know, I'm sorry. Just— does it have to be my neck? Can't you use my wrist or my elbow?" I smiled.

"Yeah, but checking the pulse in you neck is faster and easier. Would you prefer me to yank your arm over and practically break it in search of a pulse I could have easily found on your neck?" Jason rolled his eyes.

"I'd prefer you not stab me in the neck with your bony fingers every time I close my eyes for more than two seconds." I clutched my fingers to my chest in mock offense.

"My fingers are not bony." He laughed— which sounded more like a wheeze, but it was something. We quieted at the sound of many rushing footfalls and excited voices above us. Ever since I woke up this morning, there was this excitement upstairs that unnerved me. Jason has been sleeping, mostly, but even he knew something was up.

"What do you think that's about?" He questioned quietly. I shrugged.

"I don't know, they've been like this all morning. It's kind of unnerving... the excitement. You wonder what those who work with Atlas would be excited about, and, well, it's not good." It was probably only around eight in the morning... I hope their plans fail.

"I guess it's a big day for them," Jason said, uneasily. Yeah, maybe for us too.

§§§

Next chapter... I'm not even going to say anything. Enjoy.