He remembers her quite good even the darkest parts of her story —the end— couldn't shade it entirely.

He's still so attached to her, the wound in his chest twinges with pain every time she happens to cross his mind, which is about every single hour of the day. The very first time he saw her, feeding him copious amounts of nectar, her stormy gray eyes eager to know it all. The very first time they kissed, down in one of the craftsmanship god's forges in Mount St. Helens, her eyes so full of fear and anger at him for being so stubborn and reckless. The very first time they got separated, Percy feeling so lost and helpless and scared when he first opened his eyes in the house of the she-wolf Lupa. The terrifying feeling of losing his memories of her while he, Frank and Hazel wandered through Alaska; he wouldn't dare speak to them of her, fearing the memory might just slither away with the cold breeze and leave him forever. But even that wasn't frightening enough as when Arachne's cobweb pulled her into the darkness of the endless pit and her hand almost slipped from his, the terrible horde of fear that overwhelmed him as he was about to let go of both of them.

He sometimes even recalls their time in Tartarus just to get another glimpse of her. But the flashback always comes to an end, leaving him emptier than ever. Not the kind of emptiness that filled his heart with anxiety and anger at the lack of memory. Back then there had been hope and now there's none. And it wasn't until he found himself holding her motionless body against his when he came to that conclusion.

He remembers holding her body against his chest so tightly it hurt. But the pain of it was so ridiculous and stupid compared to the emptiness that was tearing his heart apart, he almost laughed. He cried and crying felt so useless, it made him shudder in anger and sob even louder making his throat burn and his lungs run out of air.

Isn't it just some twisted dream?

All was lost. All is lost.

Her eyelids closed, her head resting peacefully on his lap, it almost seemed as she had just curled down for a nap with him. But no matter how hard he hugged her, she wouldn't wake up. He tried for a kiss, as in every bed-time story. Still no bonne chance. Annabeth would've probably rolled her eyes at that reference…

He held her face carefully, running his thumbs through the corners of her lips, the remains of Annabeth's last kiss still burning on his own lips, and kissed her one last time. Her lips were still warm and she still smelled like home, yet she felt unknown in some sort of way.

He remembers pressing his lips to her forehead one last time as they took her away from him once again.

Later on, hands trembling, Percy stood speechless in front of a hundred faces or so while Cabin Six's shroud burned helplessly behind him. He remembers turning his back on them to look at the flames burning orange, red and yellow in the dark, his hand making that old gesture Grover taught them years ago, the one that guarded one from evil, except that this time he was trying to guard Annabeth from evil. As if that would bring her back to life, back to him. He walked past by the burning shroud and stood still as they remembered the rest of the dead, with the rest of the Seven, Nico, Reyna and Grover by his side.

Farewell, Annabeth.

It surprises him, how good he can recall the same events after so long. Years have passed, and Percy is still questioning himself how he manages to live one more day knowing she's gone. Perhaps not permanently, as Nico di Angelo has reassured him.

The cold breeze of the upcoming winter makes him shudder under his coat. Sitting on a chair overlooking the same lake he's visited for so long, playing the same board game he never seems to fully understand, he can barely feel the heartache; still he knows the scar will never fade.

Is merely a nice day, the remains of last night's rain making the air even colder and the grass greener; kids riding their bikes and scooters all around the park under layers and layers of coats, their mothers chatting a safe distance away, old people playing chess around him. Still, the chair reserved for his competitor empty. He checks his watch, a slight worry line on his face. She's never late.

Just then, someone pats him on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry for being late, Mr. Jackson"

"Why would you insist on calling me that? It makes me feel… old"

Annie takes the chair in front of him and starts setting up the board highly concentrated. Still, she manages to roll those startling grey eyes of her. "Don't you think that's because you're actually old?"

"I'm barely thirty" he says.

"Still ancient for a ten year-old, Percy" she adds making her first move.

"Whatever you say" he says slightly shrugging his shoulders.

Annie eyes him, a mischievous grin on her face "I'm halfway of beating you… for the twenty-first time in a row"

"Yeah, I've never been good at these brainiac's stuff" Percy says "I'm more into surfing"

"Chess is piece of cake, Percy!" Annie points out "Perhaps your head is full of kelp"

"Hey! What your mouth, kiddo"

"Check"

"Shit" Percy curses under his breath "Wait, what?"

"Watch your mouth, man" she chides him "I'm setting up a new record and I'm trying to come up with a nickname for you"

Percy bits back a smile and looks at her. Her blonde hair tied up in a messy pony tail behind her neck with a couple of locks dangling around her tanned face. Her eyes find his in such a familiar gesture it makes him shudder. He freezes but she just keeps on smiling brightly.

The gods were so not making it easy.

"What about Seaweed Brain?" he suggests.

"Sounds great—"she tries "Seaweed Brain"