Archive of Our Own ^beta

Annabeth knew that a fatal flaw was bad.
But not this bad. Not the “your-boyfriend-might-bleed-out-in-your-arms” kind of bad.

Once again, Percy had done something unbelievably stupid because of his loyalty. Gods, that boy and his heroic instincts. You’d think after saving the world twice, the universe would give them a break. Apparently not.

It was supposed to be a simple mission — one or two days at most.
Four days later, they were still lost in a maze that felt way too much like Daedalus’ old labyrinth. Of course, Leo had vanished on day three among-side with their suplies, because why would anything ever go according to plan?

Now it was just her and Percy.
Well — her, Percy, and a lot of blood.

He hung limply against her, his weight dragging her down. His right side was soaked red, the deep slash still oozing through the makeshift bandage. He’d taken the hit meant for her — because of course he had.

“Stupid, stupid Seaweed Brain,” she muttered under her breath, tightening her grip around his waist. Her arms were trembling, her throat burned, but she refused to stop. Not when he was still breathing. Not when she could still feel the faint pulse under her fingers.

Please, gods, she thought. Just this once — give us a break.

“Percy, you need to stay awake.” she shifted his arm higher over her shoulder when she felt his grip slipping. “Don’t you dare pass out on me.”

“Beth…” His breath came out rough, broken. It probably took everything he had just to get the word out. “I need… I need a break.”

Annabeth glanced at him — really looked at him — and her chest tightened. His forehead was slick with sweat, his collar soaked, eyelids fluttering like they were too heavy to hold up. Seeing him like that made her heart skip, half in fear, half in guilt. Because it should’ve been her. He was only like this because he’d stepped in front of her.

She swallowed hard. She was tired too — gods, she was so tired — every muscle burning from dragging him through this cursed maze for hours. Still, she couldn’t blame him. Not completely. Not when he’d bled for her.

“Okay,” she said softly. “Just a minute though.”

Annabeth eased him down against the cold stone wall, adjusting his shoulder until he could lean without collapsing. Then she sat in front of him, catching her breath, and reached out to brush a loose strand of dark hair from his eyes.

“Where’s Leo?” Percy gasped.

“No idea,” Annabeth said, scanning the corridor again. “I’ve been looking for him at every turn, but this place—” she huffed, brushing sweat from her forehead, “—it’s almost worse than the one when we were fifteen.”

Percy gave a weak laugh, and for half a second, the sound that wasn’t pain made her smile too.

“Do you… d-do you think he’s hurt?” he mumbled, his eyelids drooping.

Not a good sign.

“Hey! Eyes open,” she shook his shoulder lightly until his eyes fluttered open again. “You’re the one bleeding out, Seaweed Brain. Try worrying about yourself for once.”

He didn’t answer. Just took another shallow, shaky breath.

“Percy?”

“I’m awake…” He managed a grin — red streaks glinting between his teeth.

Gods. He was smiling through the blood. Of course he was.

“Yeah, sure you are,” she muttered, her stomach twisting. “Stay still, I need to check your wound.”

Annabeth reached for the torn fabric at his side, her fingers slick with sweat and dirt. She tried not to think about how warm the blood still felt, or how quiet he’d gotten. Logic. Focus. Fix the problem — that was her job. But the way his eyes kept slipping closed made her heart pound harder than any monster ever could.

She peeled the fabric back, and her stomach turned. The cut on his side was deep — too deep. The bandage she’d wrapped hours ago was soaked through, sticky and dark. She pressed her hand over it again, trying to slow the bleeding, and Percy hissed in pain.

“Sorry,” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure who she was apologizing to — him, or herself.

Annabeth had always thought a fatal flaw was something abstract, something you could outsmart if you were clever enough.
But Percy’s? His loyalty — that impossible, infuriating loyalty — it wasn’t abstract at all. It was right here, bleeding under her hands, paying the price for saving her again.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said, her voice trembling. “It was supposed to be me.”

He blinked at her, dazed, his breath uneven. “You’d… you’d do the same.”

That almost made her laugh. The memory of the battle of Manhattan bursting on her mind. She had already done it before.

She tore a strip from her own shirt, wrapping it around his side, pulling tighter than she probably should have. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t complain. Typical.

The maze around them was silent — too silent — just the echo of her heartbeat and the wet sound of fabric against skin. She wanted to scream, to curse the gods, to break the world apart for doing this to them again. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, she pressed her forehead gently against his. “You’re not dying on me, got it? We’ve come too far for that.”

He exhaled, the faintest smile ghosting on his lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Annabeth swallowed hard, forcing her mind to focus. There had to be a way out. There always was. And she wasn’t about to let this maze — or the gods — take him from her. Not this time.

She pressed her lips to his—just for a heartbeat, soft and desperate. Then she pulled back, steadying herself, and moved to stand beside him.

“Time to get up,” Annabeth said, looping his arm over her shoulder again. She lifted, half-dragging, half-supporting him down the corridor.

He was even paler now — which Annabeth would’ve sworn was impossible. Apparently, the universe disagreed. She needed to get him out of here. Needed to find Leo. Needed to do something before all fall apart.

They moved through the twisting halls, one uneven step at a time. Each corner they turned, Percy grew heavier against her. His blood had soaked through every layer of her clothes. Her camp shirt was no longer orange — more of a deep, ugly crimson. His wasn’t even recognizable anymore.

She didn’t let herself think about that. Didn’t let herself think about anything except putting one foot in front of the other.
Focus, Annabeth. Just focus.

Then she heard it.

A sound — heavy, scraping, echoing through the maze like distant thunder.

“Annabeth…” Percy’s voice was raw, but sharper now. His posture straightened slightly, instinctively, like his body remembered how to fight even when it shouldn’t.

“I heard it.”

Of course she had. You couldn’t miss something like that. The deep, bone-rattling growl that seemed to vibrate through the floor.

The Minotaur.
Minos’s pet monster — the one they were supposed to be done with — the cursed guardian of the first Labyrinth. Annabeth had read about him long before Percy ever faced him, but seeing him now was something else entirely.
Percy had killed him once. Twelve years old, untrained, terrified — and still, he’d won.

Apparently, the monster hadn’t learned his lesson. Monsters never did.

Now it was just her, one almost collapsing boyfriend, and a labyrinth that clearly hated her personally.

Annabeth tightened her grip on her knife, glanced at Percy’s pale face, and almost laughed. “Incredible,” she muttered. “Totally fine. We’re definitely going to make it.”

Because what else could she do? When the world refused to give them a break, sometimes sarcasm was the only armor she had left.

The growl came again, louder this time — closer. The kind of sound that made the walls themselves seem to vibrate.

Annabeth’s fingers tightened on her dagger. The blade felt slick, her palms sweating. She could already picture it — the creature’s massive horns catching the faint torchlight, its hooves pounding the stone.

“Annabeth…” Percy’s voice was barely a whisper now. He was still trying to stand straight, his other hand pressed uselessly against his side. Typical. Always ready to fight when he could barely breathe.

She turned to him, shaking her head. “Don’t even think about it, Seaweed Brain. You’re in no shape to play hero.”

He gave her that crooked, blood-smeared grin. “I’m always the hero.”

“Yeah? Well, not today.”

The hallway split just ahead — one passage narrow and dark, the other wide and glowing faintly with a strange golden light. She didn’t trust either. Which meant she had to choose.

Her mind raced through possibilities: airflow, echo patterns, the maze’s geometry. The left path dipped slightly, which meant it might lead deeper underground — maybe a dead end. The right glowed faintly, but that could be anything: light from a trap, or maybe an exit.

The roar thundered again, closer now — too close.

“Right,” she decided, gripping Percy tighter. “We go right.”

She dragged him forward just as the stone behind them cracked open with a sound like shattering bones. The Minotaur burst through, horns scraping the ceiling.

Annabeth’s pulse spiked. “Run!” she shouted, though Percy’s version of running looked more like stumbling. They bolted down the glowing corridor, her shoulder aching under his weight.

She risked a glance back — the Minotaur was gaining. Fast.

Think, Annabeth. Use the maze, don’t fight it.

And then, just as the idea sparked, she saw it — a section of crumbling stone above the passage, loose enough to fall if she hit the right point.

She shifted her grip on the dagger, aimed, and hurled it with all the strength she had left.

The blade struck the weak spot dead center. The ceiling groaned — then collapsed in a roar of dust and debris, sealing the corridor behind them.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Annabeth pressed her back against the wall, gasping. Her knees trembled. Percy sagged against her, barely conscious.

She swallowed hard. “See?” she said hoarsely. “Totally under control.”

“Wise… Girl” Percy gave a faint laugh — just one breath of sound — before his knees buckled.

“Percy—?”

He didn’t answer. His weight slammed into her before she could brace herself, dragging her down. They hit the ground hard, her shoulder colliding with the floor. For a second, she couldn’t breathe. Then she realized he wasn’t moving.

“No! Percy!”

Her voice cracked, echoing through the corridor. She pushed herself up, her arms shaking, pulling him into her lap. His head lolled against her, his dark curls sticky with sweat and blood.

“Percy!” She shook him once. Twice. Her hands were trembling. “No, no, no—come on, don’t you dare.”

His face was so white now it almost glowed in the dim light. Her heart was pounding so fast it hurt. She pressed her hand to his cheek — too cold, too clamy. Then his throat — there, a pulse, faint and slow, but there. Relief slammed into her so hard it made her dizzy.

Annabeth’s breath caught, somewhere between a sob and a curse. “You absolute idiot,” she whispered. “You don’t get to die, you hear me? Not after everything.”

His shirt was drenched, blood seeping through in waves, hot against her shaking fingers. She tore another strip of fabric from her shirt, pressed it hard against the wound. He flinched — just a tiny sound, but enough to break her.

“Stay with me, okay?” she whispered. “Just stay.”

The silence felt wrong now — too heavy, too final. They were trapped, alone, the air thick with dust and iron. She tried to steady her breathing, but her chest ached.

She looked down at him, her eyes burning. His face was peaceful in a way that terrified her — the kind of stillness that didn’t belong to someone alive.

“This was supposed to be easy,” she muttered, her voice cracking into a laugh that wasn’t really a laugh. “Just one stupid mission. Why does it always have to end like this?”

She brushed a smear of blood from his jaw, her fingers trembling. He looked so much younger like this. Too young to have nearly died this many times. Too young for her to lose.

Annabeth leaned forward, her forehead against his. Her whisper barely made it past her lips. “Don’t you dare do this to me. You don’t get to save me and then quit, Percy Jackson.”

No answer. Just the shallow rise of his chest, slower, weaker.

She pressed their lips together, fighting the sting in her throat. “Okay,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “Then I’ll get us out. You rest. I’ll think. I’ll fix it. I always do.”

But even as she said it, the weight of him in her arms felt heavier — too heavy — and for the first time, Annabeth Chase wasn’t sure she could carry him.

After she picked up her knife, she tried anyway.

The stone floors scraped her palms, her legs wobbling under the strain. She tried shifting him, supporting him from different angles, but nothing worked — he was too heavy, too limp, too close to slipping through her fingers entirely.

Annabeth gritted her teeth and lifted him again, dragging him through the narrow corridors. His weight was crushing, every step sending jolts of pain up her arms and shoulders. Every muscle in her body screamed, but she refused to let go. Not now.

One corridor… two corridors… each turn looked the same, twisting endlessly, shadows stretching like fingers across the walls. Her vision blurred, throat dry, lungs burning. Keep going. You can do this. Just a little further.

Her arms were trembling so badly she could barely lift him over small ledges. The metallic smell filled her nose, and every step felt heavier than the last. And then it hit her — the crushing truth: she couldn’t carry him any longer.

She dropped to her knees, her chest heaving, arms still wrapped around him. His head lolled against her shoulder, and she could feel the faint pulse under her fingers — still there, but weakening.

“No… no, no, no,” she whispered, pressing herself against him, willing her own strength into his body. “I can’t… I can’t do this… I can’t carry you any further.”

Her hands shook violently as she clutched him to her chest, the realization settling like a weight on her chest heavier than any monster could place. She had failed.

“I don’t know where to go… I don’t know what to do…” her voice cracked, breaking under the words. Tears slipping down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Percy. I’m so sorry…”

Her mind raced — think, Annabeth! There had to be a way. There always was. But her body was screaming in protest, and Percy’s weight felt like it was tethering her to the floor.

She pressed her forehead to his curls, heart hammering. “Gods… please… don’t let me lose him. Not here. Not like this.”

The corridor stretched ahead, silent and merciless. Annabeth’s breath caught, and she hugged him tighter, trying to hold the world together in her arms — even though she knew, at that moment, she couldn’t.

Then she saw it: a faint light at the end of the corridor. Warm, flickering… fire. Fire!

Her heart stuttered, the word forming in her throat before her mind caught up. “Leo!” she screamed, her voice cracking with desperate relief.

The figure at the end of the corridor blurred closer, the flicker growing into a steady glow. He was running — fast. For the first time in what felt like forever, something was actually going right. He was alive. He was okay.

“Annabeth! Percy!” Leo barked, his voice echoing off.

He skidded to a stop a few feet away, eyes wide, jaw dropping — like he was looking at a corpse.

Oh.

Oh. Right.

Then, somehow, he was moving even faster, leaping toward her.

“What happened to him?!” Leo demanded, panic sharp in his tone.

Annabeth’s hands tightened on Percy’s shoulders. “He lost too much blood,” she said, the words tumbling out fast. “He collapsed about twenty minutes ago.” Her throat burned. “I can’t carry him anymore.”

Leo froze for a heartbeat, then lunged forward, grabbing Percy’s arm. “We’ll get him up! Come on!”

“No!” she snapped, voice breaking. “It won’t help.”

She looked down at Percy — barely breathing, skin gray and slick. There wasn’t time to think, to hesitate. “You need to cauterize the wound.”

Leo blinked, completely thrown. “I— I what now?”

“Leo, he can’t keep bleeding!” Annabeth’s voice was raw now, desperation spilling through every word. “Please. You have to seal it!”

“B-but I—” His gaze darted from her to Percy’s blood‑soaked shirt, and his hands started shaking. “Annabeth, if I mess this up—”

“He’s dying, Leo!” she screamed, the words cracking in her throat. All the walls she usually held up — the logic, the control — shattered in one breath.

Her voice was trembling with something she couldn’t hide anymore — fear, helplessness, love. “Please. He’ll bleed out if you don’t. We can’t keep dragging him like this!”

Leo stared at her for a moment that felt like forever. Then, with a sharp breath, he nodded and sparked his fingers to life.

“Leo…” Annabeth’s voice was low but firm, shaking anyway. She pressed her hand gently against Percy’s chest, steadying him. “You have to do this. I can’t—he can’t… I’ll hold him.”

Leo swallowed hard, crouching beside them. “I—okay. Okay, here goes…” His sparks danced closer to the wound, the heat making the air shimmer.

Annabeth pressed a strip of cloth against Percy’s mouth, desperate to keep him from screaming when the cauterization hit its hottest point. “Hold still,” she whispered, voice tight, trembling.

Annabeth gritted her teeth and held Percy tighter. She felt the warmth radiating off Leo’s fire, smelled the sharp tang of burning flesh, and tried not to flinch. “Just—steady… just steady,” she whispered.

Percy groaned, twitching in her arms. His hand grazed hers, weak but grounding her. “Don’t… don’t let go,” she murmured. “You hear me? Not now.”

The fire hissed again, the heat climbing closer. Smoke curled into her eyes, stinging, but she didn’t let go. Every second stretched impossibly long.

“Almost… there…” Leo muttered, his voice tight. The sparks closed the gash slowly, smoke curling into the corridor like a living thing.

Then, with a sudden, muffled scream, Percy bit down hard on the cloth. The tug ripped it from her fingers, and his eyes shot open — wide, shocked, and panicked.

“What—!” His voice came out as a strangled, muffled growl, half yell, half laugh, and he tried to push himself upright.

“Percy! Stop! You could burn yourself!” she yelled, pinning him gently but firmly against her chest. “The fire—don’t move!”

His teeth scraped the edge of the cloth, blood mingling with sweat and dirt. He blinked at her, dazed, then realized what had happened. “You—did this to me?!”

“Yes, because you were about to bleed to death!” Annabeth snapped, though relief and fear laced her words. “Stay still, or we’re not going anywhere!”

Leo exhaled sharply, collapsing onto his knees beside them. “I… I think it worked.”

Percy groaned, the tension in his body slowly easing, his wild eyes softening just enough for her to feel a spark of hope. “You really hate me sometimes, don’t you?” he muttered, voice hoarse.

“I think you’ve made that obvious, Seaweed Brain,” she said through gritted teeth, brushing hair from his sweaty face. “Now stay awake, got it?”

He managed a shaky nod. “Yeah… yeah, I’m awake.”

“How you feeling, bro?” Leo asked, trying to sound casual.

“Just peachy!” Percy managed, giving him a bloodied grin.

“A rotten one, apparently,” Leo shot back, earning an elbow from Annabeth.

“We need to move,” she said, scanning the corridor. “We need to get out of this forsaken place.”

“But what about our mission?” Percy asked, because, of course, that was what he thought about at the edge of death.

Annabeth’s eyes widened. “Are you serious right now, Seaweed Brain?!”

He gave her a weak, guilty smile. “It’s… important.”

Her hands went to her hips, exasperated. “No, it’s not important if you’re dead, genius! Focus. Alive comes first!”

Percy groaned, leaning against her. “Alive… okay, fine. Alive first.”

Annabeth exhaled sharply, adjusting her grip on him. “Good. Now move, both of you.”

“Wait… I think there’s some ambrosia left,” Leo said, digging through his backpack. He held out a tiny piece to Percy. “Sorry, man, that’s all we’ve got.”

Percy grabbed it, popped it in his mouth, and gave a thumbs-up. “Feeling better already. Thanks. Hero status restored.”

Annabeth shot him a glare sharp enough to cut through him. “Hero status? You collapsed on me nearly half an hour ago.”

Percy shrugged, grinning through the blood and bruises. “Yeah, but now I’m alive. That’s heroic enough, right?”

Annabeth groaned, rolling her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t stay stuck. “You’re impossible.”

After that, they got to their feet, Percy barely able to stand on his own, propped up between them. Annabeth and Leo took turns supporting him, each step a battle against his weakness.

They trudged through the labyrinth for what felt like hours with no end in sight. Every twist and turn made Annabeth’s patience snap a little more — this damned maze was driving her insane.

Annabeth’s arms were trembling violently under Percy’s weight. Sweat and blood slicked her hands, her shoulders screaming with every step. Leo’s grip was just as strained, and between them, Percy felt impossibly heavy, almost like a ancor tethering them to the floor.

Then a sound made her blood run cold.

A deep, bone-rattling roar echoed behind them.

Annabeth’s stomach dropped. “Oh no,” she whispered.

The Minotaur.

It had found them. Again.

Annabeth’s eyes darted to the corridor. A hulking shadow emerged, horns scraping the walls, eyes blazing red. Her heart froze.

“We can’t outrun it,” she muttered, panic rising. “We’ll have to—”

“Drop him!” Leo shouted. “We can’t fight it carrying him!”

“No!” Annabeth snapped, gripping Percy tighter. “We cannot risk him like that. He stays here. We fight with him!”

Leo’s face twisted in frustration, but he swallowed it, and together, they pressed forward, grunting under Percy’s weight.

The Minotaur charged. Annabeth planted her feet, bracing herself against the stone floor. She could feel Percy’s head lolled against her collarbone, shallow breaths trembling. “Stay with me, Seaweed Brain,” she whispered fiercely. “Just… stay with me!”

Leo swung a makeshift torch, the fire igniting the beast’s shadow on the wall. Annabeth jabbed at the creature’s side with her dagger, aiming for the joints, anywhere to slow it down. The Minotaur bellowed, the sound shaking her bones.

They moved as one, staggering under Percy’s weight, ducking a swing of the horn, and slashing when the monster turned its massive head. Annabeth’s arms burned, her muscles trembling so badly she was sure she would drop him, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

The Minotaur lunged again. Leo sidestepped, shoving the beast back with the torch, giving Annabeth the split second she needed to drive her dagger into its shoulder. It bellowed, and she twisted, holding Percy tighter, backing up as it tried to swing its massive horns.

Every second felt eternal. Every movement required all her strength, all her focus. Blood, sweat, and fear mingled as they fought, her mind screaming, Don’t let him die. Don’t let him die.

The creature was relentless, but so were they. Annabeth’s teeth gritted, eyes burning. Together, with Leo’s fire and her blade, they would not let the Minotaur win — not while Percy still breathed in her arms.

Percy’s half-lidded eyes snapped open just as the Minotaur swung its massive horns toward Leo’s. Bloodied, trembling, barely conscious, he barely had strength to move.

“Percy!” Annabeth shouted, panic sharpening her voice. “No! Stay put!”

But Percy’s instincts took over. With a guttural groan, he shoved against Annabeth’s hold just enough to twist, his half-conscious body launching forward. He caught Leo’s arm just as the Minotaur’s horns came crashing toward him. The impact rattled the stone walls, but Percy’s quick reflex — sloppy, desperate, and fueled by sheer adrenaline — pushed Leo out of the way, spinning him to safety.

Leo stumbled but stayed upright. “What the—?!” he yelled, wide-eyed.

Annabeth’s heart jumped into her throat. Percy sagged back against her, barely able to hold himself up. His breaths came in gasps, blood seeping through his lips. “Percy!” she cried, clutching him tighter. “You can’t do this!”

Percy managed a weak, bloody grin. “Can’t… let you guys—die…” His arm flailed uselessly but had already done enough. The Minotaur bellowed in frustration, turning its rage back to them, and for a heartbeat, the corridor seemed to shrink around them.

“Keep moving!” Annabeth yelled, voice trembling with terror and adrenaline. “We can do this! We have to!”

Annabeth swung her dagger, stabbing at its leg to distract it, while Leo jabbed with the torch. Percy’s exhausted hand scrabbled at its foreleg, just enough to trip it slightly, slowing the creature’s momentum.

Percy groaned, half-conscious, half-fighting, but somehow still holding his tiny part of the fight together. Annabeth pressed herself to him, gripping his arm, forcing him to stay steady, even as his own strength ebbed away.

Annabeth felt it before she saw it — Percy’s knees started to buckle beneath him. The faint tremor of his legs, the way his weight sagged more heavily into her arms, set her heart racing.

“No… no, not now,” she muttered, panic tightening her chest. She clutched him closer, pressing her forehead against his damp curls. “Percy… stay awake. Please, don’t do this!”

His eyelids fluttered — once, twice — shallow breaths rattling through his chest. And then it happened. His body went limp, the last bit of strength leaving him as he collapsed against her.

“No— fuck!” The world spun, stone and shadow blurring as she nearly dropped down with him.

Her knees hit the floor hard, but she didn’t let go. Couldn’t. Her arms locked around him in pure instinct, holding him together as if sheer will could keep him from slipping away.

“Percy! Wake up!” she cried, shaking him, her fingers pressing against his shoulders. “Come on, Seaweed Brain! Don’t do this now!”

Nothing. His chest rose and fell weakly, but he was out cold. Panic clawed at her chest, a tight, choking knot.

Then she noticed Leo.
He was half-turning, struggling to keep the Minotaur’s massive horns at bay. The creature’s eyes burned, muscles coiled to strike again, and Leo’s fire flickered dangerously low. He needed help — fast.

Annabeth’s mind snapped into clarity. Daughter of Athena mode — cold, precise, strategic. She shoved Percy gently but firmly to a safe side, keeping him cradled just enough to protect him, then sprang into action.

“Leo!” she shouted, voice sharp, commanding. “Left side! Fake right, then thrust low!”

Leo glanced at her, hesitating, but Annabeth’s eyes bore into his. “Do it! Now!”

The Minotaur lunged at Leo, horns swinging. Annabeth ducked, slashing with her dagger at its foreleg as she predicted its movement — a precise, Athena-born strike to slow the beast. A jagged scratch cut across her forearm, warm blood trickling down, but she barely noticed.

Leo pivoted, torch swinging, flames searing the Minotaur’s shoulder. One swing grazed his cheek, leaving a shallow cut, smearing soot and blood across his skin. He gritted his teeth and pressed on, every movement desperate and controlled.

The creature staggered, bellowing in fury. Annabeth lunged again, using the Minotaur’s momentary imbalance to drive her dagger deep into its chest. Sparks from Leo’s torch danced across the wound, singeing his sleeve and scorching a patch of hair on his arm.

The Minotaur roared, swinging wildly, its massive hooves scraping the stone floor. Annabeth ducked a horned strike, feeling a dull pain in her shoulder where it grazed her armor. She barely had time to blink before guiding Leo with quick hand gestures — block, feint, strike — using the creature’s momentum against it. Each swing, each jab, was a choreographed, desperate ballet of precision over brute force.

Finally, with a well-aimed slash and a twisting thrust from Annabeth’s dagger, combined with Leo driving fire into its side, the Minotaur bellowed one last, ear-splitting roar and collapsed. Smoke, blood, and heat filled the corridor, mingling with the golden ashes of the beast. Annabeth wiped a smear of blood from her cheek, while Leo exhaled heavily, nursing the shallow cuts across his arms and face.

Annabeth barely registered anything; her eyes went straight to her boyfriend.

She dropped to her knees beside Percy, pressing her hands against his face, checking for signs of life. “Stay with me,” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. “Please, Seaweed Brain… just stay with me…”

She pressed her fingers to his shoulders, whispering frantic pleas. Panic knotted in her chest, each second stretching endlessly. His chest rose faintly, but his eyes remained shut, and every shallow breath made her heart hammer harder.

“Please… please don’t do this to me…” she choked out, gripping his arm as tears blurred her vision.

Leo’s eyes darted between Percy’s still body and Annabeth’s panicked face. “Annabeth! He’s… he’s not—he’s barely moving!”

Annabeth shook her head violently. “He’s breathing, Leo! I know he is, but he’s… he’s out cold!”

Then Leo did something she did not expect.

He stepped forward, frustration and fear sharp in his expression. “Enough!” Without hesitation, he cupped Percy’s neck and gave him a firm, deliberate slap across the jaw.

Annabeth froze, momentarily caught between outrage and disbelief. What the—he can’t just… Her brain scrambled for strategy while her heart thudded in terror. She had trained for battle, for monsters, for chaos — but never had she faced Leo taking matters like this while she still felt helpless.

Percy’s head snapped to the side, eyes fluttering open, hazy and foggy. A weak, rasping breath escaped him, chest rising shakily. Relief and adrenaline collided in Annabeth’s chest, sharp and consuming, as she pressed a hand to his shoulder to steady him.

“You—he actually—” she muttered under her breath, a mix of exasperation and awe.

Annabeth pressed a hand to his face, relief and terror mixing in a strangled laugh. “Finally! Don’t you ever scare us like that again!”

Percy groaned, wincing as pain laced through him. “I… I’m fine… mostly…” His voice was hoarse, barely audible, but he was there.

Leo exhaled in relief, shaking his head. “You scared the life out of us, Perce.”

Annabeth gritted her teeth, brushing hair from his bloodied face. “Alive is enough for now. You’re going to hurt, you’re going to complain, but you’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

Percy gave a faint, shaky grin. “Yeah… alive. Barely.”

Annabeth tightened her grip on him, eyes scanning the corridor, still alert. “Good. Now stay awake. Stay awake, because we’re not done yet.”

They had to carry him completely now. His feet scraped and slid along the cold, uneven floor, his head lolled against Annabeth’s shoulder, almost too heavy for her to bear. He was fading fast. His wound wasn’t bleeding anymore, and he’d had ambrosia, but his strength was gone. He was so damn weak. He needed help. He needed blood. And every second that passed, Annabeth felt the walls of the labyrinth closing in, suffocating, mocking her helplessness.

Annabeth was starving, parched, and bone-deep tired—but it barely mattered. Her own wounds were minor compared to Percy’s. He was getting weaker by the minute. No matter how much she or Leo tried to keep him awake, his eyes fluttered shut, every few steps sending him collapsing against them. Each time, her chest clenched with a sickening dread: what if he doesn’t wake up next time?

Half-lost in her own thoughts, Annabeth almost missed it — the pattern. Four rights. Every time they turned right, two more paths appeared. But when they went left… it looped. Like a square.

Her mind raced back to the first two days, being chased by monsters through the twists and turns, every sense on high alert. Then the last day, barely keeping Percy alive, dragging him step by step. She hadn’t had the time, the focus, to see the maze for what it really was. But now…

Her heart leapt. It fits. The pieces clicked together, clear and sharp despite the exhaustion clawing at her brain.

“Leo!” she gasped, a breathless, almost hysterical smile tugging at her lips. “I think I got it!”

“Got what?” he barked, pressing a hand to his ribs, wincing.

“The maze,” she said, her voice trembling with hard-earned hope. “I think I know how to get us out.”

Annabeth’s eyes flicked from corridor to corridor, mentally tracing the pattern. Right, right, left, left… square. Then a diagonal… yes, that fits. Her fingers flexed around Percy’s arm, checking his pulse even as her mind sketched the path through the twisting stone halls.

“Leo, listen carefully,” she said, voice low but urgent. “We go right twice, then left, then left again. After that… we follow the diagonal corridor. It should lead us to the exit.”

Leo squinted at her, jaw tight. “Are you sure? You’ve been moving your brain faster than your legs for the last twenty-four hours.”

“I have to be sure,” Annabeth snapped, but there was no anger — only raw determination. “We can’t afford mistakes, not with Percy like this.”

Percy groaned, half-lidded eyes flicking open. “You guys… are arguing over directions… again?”

Annabeth let out a shaky laugh, pressing a hand to his shoulder to keep him upright. “Yeah, well, try to stay awake for more than five minutes. You’d argue too.”

Leo gave a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Right. Lead the way, genius.”

Annabeth gave a small nod, shoulders tightening as she lifted Percy slightly, balancing him between them. The corridor stretched ahead, the maze still menacing, but for the first time in days, a sliver of hope shone through the stone and shadow.

We can do this, she told herself. We have to.

They moved slowly down the corridor, each step measured. Annabeth’s eyes flicked left and right, tracing the mental map in her head while supporting Percy’s weight. His body sagged against her, heavy and unsteady, but he was still breathing, still alive.

Leo walked slightly ahead, torch held high, scanning the walls and floor. “Almost there,” he muttered, though the edge in his voice betrayed his own fatigue.

Annabeth allowed herself a fraction of hope. The pattern was holding. For once, the labyrinth seemed almost predictable.

And then —

“Annabeth! Stop!” Leo’s shout cut through the corridor.

She froze mid-step, heart lurching, as her eyes caught the glint of a thin, nearly invisible wire stretching across the floor. If she had taken another step…

Annabeth’s stomach dropped, but she didn’t hesitate. With a sharp pivot, she shifted Percy’s weight, lowering him slightly so he wouldn’t snag the wire. Her foot cleared it by mere inches.

“Thanks, Leo,” she gasped, brushing a strand of sweat-matted hair from her face. “You just saved both our asses.”

Leo gave a tired grin, shaking his head. “Don’t thank me yet. This place isn’t done with us.”

Annabeth nodded, forcing her panic down. Every nerve was taut, every muscle burning from carrying Percy, but the mental map in her head clicked into place. Right, right, left, left… diagonal. Keep moving, keep moving…

She pressed Percy’s shoulder gently. “Come on, Seaweed Brain. Stay with me, okay?”

Percy groaned, nuzzling against her shoulder. “Still… alive…”

“Good. That’s all that matters,” Annabeth muttered, a fierce, tired smile tugging at her lips. “Now keep walking — carefully.”

Step by step, they moved down the corridor. Annabeth’s eyes darted constantly, scanning for more hidden traps. Leo stayed a pace ahead, torch raised, bantering quietly to keep both her and Percy alert.

The labyrinth was still deadly, still twisting endlessly, but for the first time in what felt like days, there was a thread of hope guiding them forward — and Annabeth clung to it like a lifeline.

They walked carefully, each step a slow, careful negotiation with the twisting stone corridor. For a moment, the chaos of the labyrinth faded just enough for Annabeth and Leo to steal a breath.

“So, seriously,” Annabeth said, letting her voice edge into casual territory for the first time in hours, “how do you always manage to blow up half the workshop before breakfast?”

Leo snorted, glancing at her with mock offense. “Half the workshop? That’s an exaggeration. I like to think of it as… targeted chaos.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Targeted chaos. That’s one way to put it.” She let a small grin slip through. “I don’t know how you sleep at night, honestly.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” Leo said, leaning slightly forward to peer down another corridor. “Or for people who don’t have monsters chasing them through labyrinths every two days.”

She laughed softly. “Fair point. I guess if I had your sense of… lunacy, I’d probably be fine.”

Percy’s throat gurgled, low and wet, but their conversation drowned it out. Annabeth was focused on tracing the pattern of the labyrinth in her head, calculating every turn; Leo’s eyes were constantly flicking ahead, scanning for danger, traps, or worse.

Leo smirked. “Hey, genius, ever think maybe you be lucky by being dragged into my messes?”

Annabeth let out a laugh, short and sharp. “Lucky? Leo, I’m carrying a walking disaster, and somehow you’re making it worse with your jokes.”

“Better than making it boring,” he replied, giving her a mock salute. “Cheer up, genius. We’ll get out of this.”

Her lips quirked into a tired, genuine smile. “Yeah… yeah, we will. I just hope Percy agrees.”

She glanced at him, and her stomach dropped. His eyes were shut, brow furrowed with effort, and something was off. He was drooling — but not his usual sleepy drool. Thin streaks of blood escaped the corner of his mouth, mixing with a strange bluish tint along his lips.

Her mind raced. Why… why are his lips blue?

A cold knot formed in her chest. This wasn’t just exhaustion. Something was wrong, and she knew she couldn’t ignore it.

Annabeth’s eyes narrowed, scanning Percy more closely. The faint gurgling in his throat — the low, wet rasping — had gone unnoticed at first, buried under his shallow breaths and the weight of carrying him. Now it pulled at her attention like a warning bell.

“Leo…” she said, her voice tight, almost strangled. He glanced back, torch flickering across the walls.

“What?” he asked, alert but still focused on the corridor ahead.

“It’s Percy… something’s wrong,” she whispered, pressing a hand to his chin. “He’s drooling blood… his lips are blue… and he’s making this gurgling sound.”

Leo’s eyes widened, the humor and bravado draining from his face. “Blood? Blue lips? Crap… how long has it been like this?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t notice at first… I was—” She swallowed hard, frustration and fear clashing in her chest. “I was focused on the maze, on keeping him upright— damn it.”

Percy groaned softly, a weak, muffled sound that barely reached her ears — almost like a plea. Annabeth’s mind snapped into gear. Her training, her instincts — everything Athena had drilled into her — surged to the forefront.

“Percy, can you hear me?” she asked, shifting their positions so she could get in front of him.

He nodded weakly. Not nearly enough.

“Hey… talk to me. What’s wrong, Seaweed Brain?” she pressed.

His eyelids fluttered open, gaze foggy, taking several seconds to recognize her. But he didn’t speak — only stared, upright but trembling.

“Percy?”

He shook his head, negative, and Annabeth’s chest tightened. “What? What are you trying to say?”

His trembling fingers closed around hers and guided her hand to his chest. Then he tried — tried being the operative word — to take a breath.

A gurgled, wet sound escaped his throat. Her hand, pressed against him, felt the unnatural resistance, the sickly warmth of blood where there shouldn’t be any. His lungs… his right lung was compromised. He couldn’t breathe properly.

She crouched closer, scanning his pale, blood-streaked face. Why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t he warn me?

“Seaweed Brain… you should have told me,” she muttered through gritted teeth, voice tight with fear and frustration. Her heart clenched — every moment he’d stayed silent had made this worse.

Annabeth knew that if he weren’t a half-blood, he wouldn’t even be able to stand in this condition — let alone hide how bad it was. Maybe if Percy… wasn’t Percy, he’d have crumbled by now.

And yet… here he was, bloody, exhausted, stubborn as ever. She felt a flicker of exasperation she couldn’t hide, mixed with something else — awe, maybe. He always found a way to keep going, even when she wanted to scream at him for being reckless.

Percy’s eyes, glossy and strained, met hers. Unshed tears flickered in them — pain, guilt, or both. It shattered her.

“We—” he tried to speak, but a violent, wet cough cut him off, and he lowered his gaze, trying not to splatter blood across her face.

Leo’s eyes were wide, torch held high, still scanning the shadows. “Annabeth… what can we do?!”

Annabeth shook her head, a cold clarity settling over her. “Nothing here. There’s nothing I can do in this damned labyrinth. The wound’s internal… his lung… it’s bad, Leo. The only thing that can save him is getting out. Now.”

Leo’s jaw tightened, and he glanced at Percy, trembling under their combined support. “So… we move him? Fast?”

“Yes. Keep him upright, steady, and talk to him. Keep him awake— that’s on us,” Annabeth said, gripping Percy’s shoulder tighter.

Percy groaned, blinking weakly, still half-conscious. He had been trying, somehow, to push through it, but the truth was brutal: he had been hurting and said nothing. Annabeth’s chest ached with both fear and a sharp, furious relief that they had caught it before it became fatal.

She let out a shaky breath and forced herself to scan the path ahead. “Follow my lead. Every turn, every step — we move carefully, but fast. He’s alive, but barely. We cannot waste a second.”

Leo nodded, crouching closer. “I’ve got him. Let’s get out of this maze.”

Annabeth’s lips pressed together, determination hardening her gaze. “Then let’s move. We don’t stop until we’re out.”

She took the lead, eyes scanning every turn, every shadow. Her mind worked like a machine, calculating the shortest path, the safest route, the predictable patterns of the labyrinth. Every footfall was measured, every movement deliberate — a wrong step could jostle Percy and make things far worse.

Leo stayed close, gripping Percy’s arms, his own senses on high alert. “Which way?” he asked quietly, torch flickering against the cold stone walls.

“Left. Then… right,” Annabeth replied, voice calm but sharp, almost automatic. “The maze is repeating itself — I’ve seen the pattern now. Don’t argue, just follow.”

Percy groaned faintly, half-conscious, but his fingers twitched weakly against Leo’s arm. Annabeth’s stomach clenched.

“Keep talking to him, Leo,” she ordered, eyes flicking over her shoulder. “Anything. Keep him alert. Don’t let him drift off.”

Leo grinned, forcing a confident tone. “You hear that, Aquaman? You’re too stubborn to let us carry you like a sack of laundry all day, so keep those eyes open!”

Percy let out a faint, rasping laugh, a small victory, and Annabeth allowed herself a fraction of relief — just enough to keep moving.

“Right there!” Annabeth gasped, heart hammering in her chest. She looked back at Leo and Percy, her voice catching with both relief and urgency. “Almost there, guys! Keep him steady — just a little further!”

Leo’s face brightened despite the exhaustion and fear. “I see it! Come on, man, you can do this!” he called, grinning to keep Percy conscious.

Percy groaned, his chest heaving, lips slightly open, but he blinked at them weakly, still holding on. Annabeth pressed a hand gently against his back, while supporting him again among-side with Leo. “That’s it, Percy. Just a few more steps. Focus on me — on the light.”

The corridor seemed to stretch, stone walls pressing in, shadows dancing at the edges of the torchlight. Every step was a struggle; Percy’s weight was staggering, Leo’s arms were trembling, and Annabeth’s muscles ached.

“Almost… there…” she muttered, repeating it like a mantra to herself, to Leo, to Percy — anything to keep them moving.

Ahead, the light grew stronger, golden and warm, like a promise. Annabeth’s heart surged. We’re going to make it. We’re going to get him out.

After what felt like an eternity of twisting corridors and careful steps, the tunnel finally opened into fresh air. Annabeth blinked against the sudden sunlight, her chest heaving from exhaustion and relief.

They stumbled out together, Leo supporting Percy on one side, Annabeth on the other. The cold, damp stone of the labyrinth was replaced by the earthy smell of moss and pine. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, warm and alive, and for a moment, the world felt huge and real.

“We… we made it,” Annabeth whispered, a laugh bubbling out, shaky and breathless. She glanced down at Percy. His chest was still rising and falling, shallow and weak, but he was alive. That was what mattered.

Leo exhaled sharply, dropping the weight of relief as much as the burden of Percy. “Holy crap… we actually did it. I thought that thing was gonna—ugh, never mind.”

Annabeth’s eyes scanned the forest around them. Trees stretched tall and silent, their shadows soft against the ground. The maze was gone, replaced by this quiet, living world. For the first time in days, she could breathe without calculation, without dread pressing on her chest.

Percy groaned softly, lips slightly open, eyes half-lidded. “Feels… different out here,” he rasped, a few lines of blood sliping trough his jaw.

“You’re alive, that’s what feels different,” Annabeth said, gripping his shoulder, a tiny, triumphant smile tugging at her lips. “And we’re getting you out of here. No more monsters. I promise.”

Leo nudged her shoulder lightly, grinning despite the exhaustion. “Let’s just… keep moving. There’s gotta be camp or a road or something. Maybe a snack, too — I’m starving.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes, but even she allowed a small laugh. For the first time in days, the danger felt behind them, and hope — fragile, flickering — was finally something they could reach for.

“Water…” Percy choked out, lips trembling, eyes squeezed shut.

“Yes!” Annabeth exclaimed, pressing closer to keep him upright. “Stay with me, Seaweed Brain! We need a river — that’ll help you, even if just a little. It’ll make you feel better!”

She adjusted her hold, keeping his weight supported as Leo kept a sharp eye on the trees around them. Percy’s hand twitched weakly against her arm, and she gritted her teeth, refusing to let panic take over.

“Almost there,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “Just a little further… keep those eyes open.”

 “I think I hear it!” Leo said, voice tight with hope and tension. “Water! Percy, you hear that? You’re not imagining it!”

Percy groaned, a rasping sound that wasn’t quite a laugh, not quite a moan.

The sound of running water grew, steady and soothing. The forest seemed to breathe around them, a soft contrast to the chaos they’d just escaped. For the first time in hours, Annabeth let herself believe they might actually make it — but every step reminded her how fragile he still was.

Finally, the trees opened up, revealing a wide, sunlit river, its surface shimmering gold in the afternoon light.

“Here! We made it!” Annabeth gasped, kneeling beside Percy and helping him lower himself gently to the riverbank.

Leo crouched on the other side, keeping his hands steady under Percy’s arms.

Percy’s lips trembled, and a weak rasp escaped him. “…water…”

Annabeth pressed a hand to his chest. “I know, Seaweed Brain. Just a sip first, then we can rest for a second.”

Leo scooped up some water in his hands, careful not to splash too much, and held it to Percy’s lips. Percy’s fingers twitched, grasping at the water instinctively. As he drank, a faint warmth spread through him, subtle but real. The river didn’t heal his lung, but it energized him slightly, like Poseidon himself was whispering through the water.

Percy exhaled, a little steadier this time, and his eyes flickered open. They were still pale, still faint, but alive — and, for the first time in hours, he looked like he might recover enough to keep moving.

Annabeth let out a shaky laugh, brushing wet strands of hair from his forehead. “See? That’s better. You’re not done yet… you’re still with us. That’s all that matters right now.”

Leo smirked, but it was tinged with relief. “Not bad for a half-drowned Seaweed Brain, huh?”

Percy let out a weak, humorless groan, then gave a faint, bloody grin. “Don’t… push it.”

Percy coughed softly, a wet, ragged sound, but smiled weakly. Leo gave a small, encouraging squeeze to his shoulder. Together, the three of them sat by the river for just a moment, catching their breaths — the forest around them alive and calm, but the danger, the urgency, and the unknown still pressing close.

Annabeth wiped her hands on her pants, leaving them streaked with mud and Percy’s blood, and knelt closer to him. “Okay,” she muttered, voice low but firm. “We need help, and we need it fast.”

Leo glanced between her and Percy. “You… you mean like a regular call? We don’t exactly have a phone out here.”

Annabeth shook her head, a small, tense smile tugging at her lips. “No, Leo. Iris, remember? I can send a message — a direct one. It’ll get to Camp Half-Blood instantly.”

She rose slightly, stepping a few feet back, eyes scanning around as she concentrated. Closing her eyes, Annabeth summoned her mental focus, imagining the campfire flames at Camp Half-Blood. A ribbon of rainbow light shimmered faintly in the air in front of her, the beginning of an Iris call.

“Camp Half-Blood!” she shouted, voice strong despite her exhaustion. “This is Annabeth Chase! We have an emergency — Percy Jackson is badly injured! We’re in a forest north of the labyrinth entrance, by a river! Send medical support immediately!”

The rainbow ribbon pulsed, then shot skyward, disappearing into the sunlight filtering through the trees. Annabeth exhaled sharply, her heart hammering. “Now we wait. They’ll get this — they have to.”

Leo crouched beside Percy, muttering nervously. “You really think they’ll come that fast?”

Annabeth glanced at him, her sharp, calculating gaze softening just a fraction. “They will. Camp doesn’t leave its own behind. But we need to keep him alive until they get here. That’s our job.”

Then she knelt beside Percy, her hands trembling slightly as she held him. His chest heaved, breaths coming havier. “Okay, Seaweed Brain,” she whispered, voice firm, laced with fear she refused to show. “We need you in the water. Just… just a little. It’ll help you breathe.”

Percy groaned. Annabeth tightened her grip, keeping him steady. “I’ve got you,” she said. “You won’t slip. You won’t go anywhere. Not unless I let you.”

Leo knelt on the other side, ready to support him as well. “I got your back, Percy. Don’t even think about going with the current.”

Step by careful step, they lowered him toward the edge of the river. His feet touched the cool water, then his waist and he flinched slightly, bloodied and pale. Annabeth pressed her hand to his good side, anchoring him. “Easy… breathe with me, Percy. I’m not letting go.”

The river flowed steadily, not wide or violent, but enough that if Percy lost control, he could be carried downstream. Annabeth’s grip was tight, muscles trembling from exhaustion, from fear, from relief — all mixed together.

Percy’s hand brushed against the water, tentative at first, then gripping her shoulder for balance. He coughed softly, a wet, rasping sound, but he didn’t panic. Annabeth let a small exhale escape. “Good… good, you’re doing it. You’re okay.”

“I… I want in,” Percy rasped, voice weak but determined.

Annabeth’s heart leapt, and she tightened her grip around him instinctively. “Whoa, whoa, slow down, Seaweed Brain. We can’t have you slipping away.”

Percy wobbled slightly, but his hand found Annabeth’s cheek, gripping her with surprising strength. “I… I feel better… I can— I can do this,” he said, voice raspy but full of stubborn determination.

Annabeth glanced at Leo, eyes sharp. “He wants in. If we do this, we stay right here the whole time. No letting him go with the current. Understood?”

Leo nodded immediately. “Understood. I’ve got him. He’s not going anywhere.”

Carefully, they eased Percy further into the river. The water reached his chest, cool and steady, and his breathing became easier, more natural. A flush of color returned to his cheeks, and his tired eyes brightened just a fraction.

“I… this feels good,” Percy murmured, almost purring, and for a moment, the tension in Annabeth’s shoulders eased.

His breathing evened slightly, and Annabeth dared a flicker of hope: the water wasn’t curing him, but it was keeping him from getting worse.

And for now, that was enough.

She smiled, a tired but genuine expression. “Good. That’s exactly what I wanted. Just stay steady, don’t push too far.”

Percy nodded, leaning slightly into the river, letting it support his weight. He splashed a small hand playfully at the water, a weak but real laugh escaping him. “Okay… maybe I needed this more than I thought.”

Annabeth pressed a hand to his back, grounding him. “You did. But don’t forget — we’re not out of the woods yet. Or the labyrinth. Or… well, you know.”

Percy’s grin widened, there was life in his eyes again. “I know… but right now… this is perfect.”

“Yeah, soon enough we’ll be at camp,” Leo said, exhaling heavily. “It’s gonna be alright.”

“Yeah… I think so too,” Percy murmured, smiling, this time without the blood on his teeth — somehow he’d managed to clean it.

Annabeth glanced down at her soaked clothes and then at Leo’s. “Too bad we’re both drenched now.”

“Just water, Wise Girl,” Percy said with a teasing shrug.

“Yeah, yeah…you keep saying that, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth shot back, a small smile tugging at her lips.

For a fleeting moment, laughter mingled with the sound of the river, and despite the exhaustion, the pain, and the chaos behind them, they allowed themselves a breath of peace.

Annabeth knew that a fatal flaw was bad.
But she wouldn’t let her boyfriend get to the fatal part, not on her watch.
They’ll be okay. Like always.