Chapter Text
“You worry a lot about your boyfriend’s mental health,” Mai pointed out.
Annabeth gave her an irritated look. “Don’t try and make this some teenage romance thing,” she snapped. “Percy and I have been fighting together since we were twelve. We’re partners before we’re friends, and we’re friends before we’re dating.”
“I understand, I didn’t mean to minimize your relationship,” Mai said patiently. “Still, I noticed that you tend to focus heavily on any emotional issues Percy may be having.”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” Annabeth said, crossing her arms. “He’s my best friend. I worry about him.”
“Of course,” Mai agreed. “I understand that. But I was wondering if you wanted to talk about why that’s such a source of anxiety for you. It’s not just concern, which would be perfectly healthy. But your worry for his mental health sometimes exceeds your focus on your own.”
Annabeth exhaled, still scowling in irritation. “It’s a serious issue for him, that’s all,” she said at last. “And he has trouble managing it on his own. He needs my help.”
“How long have you known about these problems?” Mai asked.
Annabeth hesitated, and then sighed, giving in reluctantly.
“Just since last year,” she revealed, without looking at Mai. “I mean – Percy always had a self-effacing streak, but I didn’t know it was so bad until... until he told Thalia that he was considering committing suicide.”
“How did you find out?”
“He told me himself, a couple days later,” Annabeth said. “Thalia told Chiron, and Chiron talked to Percy and convinced him to come here. He told me and Grover what happened once that was decided.” She exhaled shakily, remembering the scene far too clearly. “We sat by the lake, and he told us he’d be gone for a while because Chiron was making him get therapy. And when Grover asked why, he said it was because he’d told Thalia he was thinking about killing himself.”
“What were you thinking then?”
“I was shocked,” Annabeth said, playing with a bookmark. “Percy has never been optimistic, exactly, but he’s upbeat, and he knows how to cheer people up. I didn’t understand where this was coming from. How he talked about himself that day – I’d only heard him talk that way about Luke.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like he’d done something unforgivable,” she said. “He just started listing off reasons why he didn’t deserve to live, and I could tell he’d been feeling this way for a long time. And I had no idea.”
“That bothers you a lot, doesn’t it?” Mai prompted. “That you didn’t know.”
Annabeth clenched her teeth, but eventually had to nod.
“It feels like he’s been walking around with a broken leg, and I didn’t notice,” she admitted, frustrated with herself. “It seems so obvious now. He’s always been really insecure, and he takes criticism hard. I used to think it was annoying, the way he’d shut down when someone corrected him. I thought he was just sensitive. I didn’t think it was because he believed every bad thing anyone said about him.”
“It takes training to notice the signs of undiagnosed mental illness,” Mai said. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. Can you tell me why it upsets you?”
“I’m his best friend,” Annabeth said plaintively. “I should have noticed. Twice now, he’s gotten so bad that he really wanted to kill himself, and I didn’t notice anything was even wrong. What if it happens again? What if next time no one notices in time?”
“Would you be comfortable discussing this concern with him?” Mai asked. Annabeth huffed, sinking down in her seat.
“He knows I’m worried,” she said mulishly. “I’ve been trying to plan.”
“Does he know how much anxiety it’s causing you?” Mai prompted patiently. “The best way to deal with it would be to work out a solution between the two of you. If he knows how important it is to you, it may be easier to convince him to tell you when his mental health declines.”
“He did promise,” Annabeth admitted. “But he promised last year too.”
“Is it a promise motivated by his mental health, or yours?” Mai asked. “I suspect Percy would be more cooperative if he knew it was as much for your peace of mind as for his safety.” She tapped her desk, frowning. “Given his line of inquiry in your joint session, it seems like the reason he didn’t tell you was because he knew that you were also struggling with your mental health. It may help to set parameters in case of similar problems in the future.”
Annabeth bit her lip. “I’ll talk to him,” she decided at last. “And... I’ll let you know how it goes.”
Cacao was a precious little lump of fur, lazy and affectionate, and she made a comforting weight on Annabeth’s lap. David brought her three times a week, and Annabeth didn’t know how she would’ve gotten through therapy without her.
Especially this.
“Percy and I followed Akhlys to the edge of Chaos,” Annabeth explained. She cradled Cacao in her lap instead of her normal pen and paper; there wasn’t enough movement in this story for her to draw up a pretend battle plan like she preferred. “When we reached it and got the Death Mist, she turned on us.”
Despite her cool tone, her hands were shaking subtly, and she shifted Cacao closer to hold her more tightly. Her heart pounded, and she had to fight to keep her breath even.
“How did you feel when that happened?” Mai asked.
“Tired and frustrated,” Annabeth said without looking at her, in the exact same tone she used to map the event. “Everything in Tartarus was just one crisis after another. At this point, I'd... stopped getting upset about it. I was so focused on making sure me and Percy got out safely.”
“Did you consider that a responsibility?”
“Of course I did,” Annabeth snapped, clenching her fist over Cacao’s fur. “It was my fault Percy was there, so it was my job to get him out. I... I couldn’t live with anything less.” Her eyes stung. She paused, and then, reluctantly following Mai’s advice, gave herself a moment to feel upset. She let the tears come and wiped her eyes, let out half a sob, and didn’t continue talking until it was easier to breathe. “You didn’t see him down there. That- that was where I learned what his shoulder devil looked like. He looked like that all the time, down there.”
“You were both under exceptional stress,” Mai agreed. “What could you have done differently that would have kept Percy out of Tartarus?” Annabeth’s fingers spasmed, and she flinched. “Think about it, Annabeth.”
“I have,” Annabeth said tightly. “A thousand times. I... I don’t know. He shouldn’t have come with me. He should have let me fall.”
“You’re feeling maladaptive guilt, Annabeth,” Mai said, firm and steady. “There is nothing you could have done differently. You know that, deep down.”
Annabeth took a deep breath, hugged Cacao, and let it out. “I feel like I did that to him,” she said at last. “Even down there, I would look at his eyes and think, that’s my fault. I put that look there.”
“Did you?” Mai asked quietly. “Or did Tartarus?”
Annabeth met her eyes, then looked away, down at Cacao. “Tartarus did,” she agreed, relieved to feel the blame shift slightly. “It’s a terrible place, and it did to him what it did to me.”
Mai nodded at her, then gestured down. Annabeth squirmed, sitting up to focus.
“Percy and I didn’t stand a chance at first,” she said. “The Death Mist made us intangible, and we couldn’t hit her. But she could hit us.” She exhaled. “I was trying to think of something, anything, to get us out of it, but the best I could do was find solid things and throw them at her.” She scowled down. “Akhlys is a goddess. You can imagine how much good that did.” Mai nodded. “Then...”
The image flashed behind her eyes, familiar and haunting. She was one of the few people that had gotten used to Percy’s fearsome snarl, but the broken, animalistic rage he’d leveled at Akhlys triggered a primitive fear in Annabeth. Like Percy was a tsunami, and Annabeth was at sea level.
“Breathe,” Mai said. “In, one, two, three, four, five...”
Annabeth breathed, trying to wrangle her thoughts into place. Part of her focused on Mai and ran calming exercises, and another part prodded gingerly at the memory, trying to pull words out of the tangle. Cacao rolled over in her arms, settling against her stomach with a pleased huff. Annabeth relaxed, but her heart still fluttered.
“Percy was baiting her to buy time,” Annabeth said at last, stroking Cacao. She almost smiled as the folds rolled under her fingers. “But he went too far, and she got angry. She attacked him with poison.”
Annabeth breathed. In, one two three four five. Out, one two three four five.
“He almost went down,” Annabeth said. “And for a second I thought, that’s it. We failed. We’re going to die here.”
In, one two three four five. Out, one two three four five. She rubbed the dog.
“Then he got up.” Her voice shook, and she let it. Her eyes stung, and she let the tears fall. “He looked... no. There’s nothing I can compare it to. No monster, god, or titan has ever scared me that badly.” She wiped her eyes. “See, Percy has always been ridiculously strong, as a demigod and as a swordsman. He radiates power like a god at times. And that’s always been a relief, because we’re always on the same side. But that day... I know you’ve never been near an enraged god, but it felt like that. Like it doesn’t matter who they’re angry at, you still need to get out of the way.”
“But Percy scared you more?” Mai prompted. Annabeth nodded stiffly, then cuddled Cacao, who squirmed and settled again.
“Percy has a hot temper, and he gets angry a lot,” she said. “But I could just tell that this was different. He wasn’t in control of himself. He didn’t want to win. He wanted to hurt her. And he did.”
“What did he do?”
Annabeth’s breath hitched. She set her cheek on Cacao’s side and didn’t speak for a few minutes. Then, finally, she looked back up. “He took control of her poison,” she said, voice wavering. Her hands shook until she buried them in Cacao’s fur. “He surrounded her with it. He took control of- of her tears. And he started torturing her.”
“What were you thinking then?”
More tears slipped out. She wiped them away. “Percy has never done anything like that before,” she said quietly. “He’s never hurt anyone just to hurt them. Part... part of why I’m not worried about his strength is because he has a lot of mercy in him. But...” She trailed off for a moment, but Mai didn’t say anything, so she gathered her thoughts to continue. “When he did that, I, I thought he decided he’d had enough, and he wanted revenge.” Her voice cracked, her heart aching at the thought.
“What do you think now?” Mai asked.
“I don’t know,” Annabeth admitted, looking down at Cacao. She rubbed her ears. “He never talks about revenge. But he’s still so angry at so many people. I mean- I am too. The gods are cruel and selfish. But fighting them won’t help, and... I think Percy wants to fight them.”
“You said before that you would follow him if he turned against the gods,” Mai pointed out. Annabeth huffed, brushing her hair out of her face.
“That was if he decided that they couldn’t be trusted,” she said. “This... it wouldn’t be rational. He’s angry and hurt and, and lashing out.” She glanced up. “I mean- obviously he’s calmed down a lot from when he attacked Akhlys. But I know him. He’s still resentful, and... it’s making him not act like himself.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“...It scares me,” Annabeth admitted, stiff and reluctant. She scratched Cacao’s side, staring down at her. “I lost Luke to his resentment. He stopped caring about the things he used to care about, and- and he stopped caring about me. And Percy’s been through a lot. I can’t blame him for being angry. But I don’t want him to stop caring. That’s what makes him Percy.”
“Have you talked to him about this?” Mai asked. Annabeth stiffened. “Not about his reaction to Akhlys. Have you spoken with him about his resentment and your concerns?”
“I don’t know if I can,” Annabeth admitted, shamefaced. “I don’t know what he’ll say. I don’t know what I’ll say. I don’t want to fight with him about this. The original incident was hard enough on both of us.”
“We already knew that you would need another joint session with him,” Mai said. “Would you consider bringing it up then? Raine and I would be there to keep you both stable.”
“...Maybe,” Annabeth conceded reluctantly. “But I don’t want to stress him out if he’s not ready for it.”
“If he’s not ready for it, Raine will ask to delay the session,” Mai said. “All you need to do is tell me if you’re ready for it.”
Annabeth hesitated, then nodded. “Yes,” she decided. “I want this out of the way. I want to stop worrying about this.”
Mai nodded, and then prompted, “Can you tell me what happened after he attacked Akhlys?”
Annabeth flinched and shivered, looking back down. She stroked Cacao. It took a moment for her voice to work. “I yelled at him to stop,” she said. “I didn’t know what else to do. I’d never seen him like that before.”
“And then?”
She took a deep breath. “He opened a path and demanded that Akhlys leave. And she did. She ran away.” She met Mai’s eyes. “He’s scared gods before, but never like that. Like he was going to kill them.”
“How did you feel then?”
“I was relieved,” Annabeth said. “I told him to stop, and he stopped. He still had that much control.” She played with Cacao’s ear, feeling her huff across her arm. “And he just... went back to normal. Like nothing happened.”
“How do you feel about that, looking back?”
“I still don’t understand,” Annabeth confessed quietly. “I, I don’t understand why it happened. Not why he lashed out, and not why it went away so fast. A... a part of me is worried that it’s a symptom of something bigger.” She looked up at Mai. “I missed so many signs with Luke. And I know Percy has darkness in him. I just...”
Mai nodded thoughtfully. “I see your concern,” she said. “And I see why you’re still anxious, and why you’re reluctant to discuss it with him. But it’s the only way to see this resolved. And with the way your lives are, either you will resolve it, or it will resolve itself – perhaps in a way you don’t want.”
“Yeah,” Annabeth agreed tiredly, and let Cacao lick her fingers.