This oneshot was actually inspired by a song. One moment it just struck me and I had to write it before I forgot it or lost my focus.
I easily get distracted, my recent penchant for writing served as a painful realization how easily. I have about five or six stories begun and none ended, because halfway I came up with other idea and the one I was working on currently seemed impossible to finish and not so good anymore.
If, by any chance, someone who reviewed, favorited or read my last oneshot is reading this, I would like to thank you. Really, you guys are great. I expected more an onslaught of disapproval than praises. Thank you so much.
I proofread it, but if there are mistakes somewhere, feel free to point that out.
This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name
Remember the name by Fort Minor
Waking up in a cold, empty house with practically no memory and wearing way too thin clothing for this temperature is by all means no fun, take it from Percy. Especially when you almost get eaten by a pack of vicious wolves right after that.
Perhaps his priorities needed to be sorted out, but the scary thing wasn't that he was surrounded by a dozen of beasts with teeth like knives. The scary thing wasn't that they all seemed extremely hostile and ready to rip him to pieces. The scary thing wasn't that the biggest one could talk, however weird that was, and that Percy could understand it perfectly. The scary thing wasn't that he was told that he was a son of a thousand-or-so-year-old god and he believed it without question. The scary thing was that he didn't remember who he was and who to trust.
He didn't know if there even was someone out there, missing him and wondering where he is. Someone who waited for him and, possibly, needed him.
Percy couldn't tell who was a friend and who was a foe. He didn't know if he could trust anyone, if there was someone who had been his confidant, his support and his shoulder to cry on. To put such trust in someone as to reveal to them the deepest secrets and thoughts one had to have a history with them, to be through a lot together and share the ups and downs. Such reliance couldn't be given freely, one had to earn it. Looks can be deceiving and he had a suspicion he had been hurt by someone he trusted before.
Maybe he didn't have anyone like that? Maybe he was a bad person, whom other people couldn't stand? Maybe he was really all alone?
Frankly, that thought terrified him more than anything else.
Truly worrisome that notion was, to think he was all alone. Even the strongest people couldn't bear the weight of the world just by themselves, not for a long shot. Sooner or later, without support they would crack under pressure and there would be no one to hold the rapidly descending burden. They would be crushed.
He supposed he was someone, who valued friendship a lot, because soon he found himself in desperate need to have someone he could confide in. The pack of wolves, though he appreciated greatly the training and the refuge they offered, didn't do much. Percy somehow found it hard to spill his deepest fears to the creatures that had the nasty habit of threatening to eat his face.
But he was aware of one thing: loyalty was very important to him. He knew that if there was some friend out there, he wouldn't hesitate to die for them. At the same time, if they betrayed him, Percy would be hurt deeply.
During the day, when Lupa and her wolves tortured Percy with training, he didn't think about it much. The repetitive exercises and silent screams of his sore muscles proved to be perfect distraction. He lost himself in the practice, the only thing that seemed relatively familiar. Only at nights had he the time for reflections and worries. He was almost on the verge of giving up then. He had no reason to go on.
People were shaped by their experiences. They learned through them, they learned to harness their emotions, to control their weaknesses, they learned how to act around others. Their past molded them like a sculpture, forming the curves of their personalities and the creases of bygone hardships.
Without his memories he was nothing. A lifeless puppet without will and individuality, doomed to wander aimlessly till the end of time.
He didn't want to be like that.
Sometimes he thought he got a glimpses of his past life, but they faded as soon as they appeared. Like some sadistic divinity played with him cat and mouse. He could only reach out blindly, desperately grasping for memories that weren't there and hoping against hope one day he would catch them.
He clung to whatever vaguely reminded him of something, like that clay bead necklace with weird symbols and an orange shirt that was falling apart but he still refused to throw it away. These were the palpable evidences of his past life. He spent many nights wondering about them, clutching the small beads and focusing hard on his missing memories.
Somewhere deep inside him, he knew he still had these memories, well hidden behind impenetrable walls. A mysterious room locked and out of his reach, constantly teasing his desperate mind. Sometimes when he concentrated hard on it, he could have sworn he heard a girl's laugh, but it ceased as soon as it rang.
He was determined to tear these walls down.
Two weeks passed and he still didn't regain his memory, except for a few glimpses.
By no means they were sufficient. He still couldn't even remember his own last name. Each time something flashed in his mind, he sat for a long time, wide-eyed and craving for more.
It seemed like each time it concerned one person. He saw a pretty girl, blonde curls bouncing and gray eyes flashing. It was very little, but enough to give him hope.
He didn't know who she was, but she must have been very important to him. Every memory of her was almost sacred to him. Whenever he thought of her, his lost heart warmed pleasurably and senses tingled. Elation and fondness accompanied the reminiscence of her, as well as trust and relief. There was also one emotion he couldn't identify, but it was the most powerful of all and it made his heart race and, oddly, gave the small of his back prickling sensation.
Sometimes he had a feeling like there was someone beside him. Someone who guided him, gently holding his hand and always had his back, no matter what. He could almost feel a lemon fragrance and a sense of perfect harmony with this mysterious presence, but it all faded whenever he turned around just to see he was alone.
He learned to assign it with this girl, this feeling of completeness. He often dreamed of fighting alongside her, both keeping each other's backs. They worked well together, becoming almost insurmountable. They were partners, surpassing all obstacles, whether in battle or in life. She gave him support and strength, even when she wasn't there.
This time it was no different.
He had yet to put a name to her, but her memory filled him with hope and energy to go on. Maybe not now, but soon he would regain his old life.
One day during the training with Lupa, Percy, dead exhausted, didn't manage to parry one of her attacks. Razor sharp claws had sunk in his arm and he sucked in a breath, closing his eyes and waiting for a wave of pain that was inevitable. However, to his immense surprise, nothing happened.
He peeked his eyes open to see Lupa watch him in curiosity and a hint of suspicion. He looked down and, noticing his not even scratched arm, a flashback hit him.
He was in agony, floating in black water, struggling and gasping for breath. His every muscle was on fire and the outlines of his flailing arms were becoming more and more blurred with each second, as if he was dissolving in a huge basin of acid, which he imprudently decided to take a bath in. He felt himself melt and lose his identity slowly, until suddenly a female voice spoke in his mind.
"The cord. Remember your lifeline, dummy!"
Something lurched him backwards and he heard that voice again, this time clearer.
"Hold on, Seaweed Brain. You're not getting away from me that easily."
He saw who the voice belonged to then. It was a blonde girl. Not just any girl, his girl. The one from his memories. She was standing barefoot on a lake pier, wearing a blue baseball cap, jeans and an orange shirt, same as his. She was reaching out her hand to him and visibly trying not to laugh.
"You are such an idiot sometimes." She smiled and Percy thought he had never saw a more beautiful smile. "Come on. Take my hand."
Memories flooded his mind and Percy came back to reality, the flashback leaving a piercing headache in its wake.
By the time he had regained his breath, the details were already fading and Percy found himself voicelessly chanting the girl's name, fearing to forget that too.
It gave him a renewed vigor and fierce determination to continue training. He was eager to gain Lupa's approval and be let out, to embark on a journey and reclaim his memories.
Somewhere there was this girl, waiting for him and keeping his heart, and he will reach her, no matter how the dangerous the road will be and how many monsters he will have to fight along the way. He will survive it all, just to meet her once more, to hold her in his arms and to have a chance to tell her how much his heart ached to be with her. He had the courage to face whatever the Fates had in store for him and if he had to search the whole world, he would.
In the meantime, however, he will continue to train, while holding the memory of the girl dear and heavily guarded like the world's most precious jewels and the name the most valuable of all.
Annabeth.
Strong as Percy is, I believe, when the times are hard, he gains this strength from friends and family. Even before the camp, when he didn't have much friends, he still had Sally to support him. Losing his memory suddenly must have thrown him off pretty badly. He was bound to have some difficulty trying to find himself in his predicament. Losing memory must suck majorly even when you have friends and family around to help, so I imagine waking up in an empty house and having amnesia and next to no company for months must be even worse. And I doubt the wolves would be much help in this matter.
I'm not really pleased with this, especially with the ending. Again. I guess l just don't like the majority of my work. It all seems like a load of crap to me, some more than others, but I suppose I'd better leave the judging to someone else.
Thank you all for reading.
Have a good day.