Author's Note: Hello my friends, I bring you a one-shot from the depths of my twisted mind. Well, to be fair, this story isn't really twisted at all. I just had a wave of inspiration and this was the result. After you read the story, please read my A/N down at the bottom... I have something I want to speak to you all about.

-Elise (Daisydot227)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Percy Jackson, or any of the characters. All credit goes to our wonderful friend Rick Riordan.

Where I'm Going

The hot, dry, air made Annabeth light headed as she walked down the edge of the highway. The faded road seemed to stretch for miles, surrounded on both sides by desert.

"Sorry excuse for a highway," Annabeth muttered, wiping sweat off her brow. It was true, the highway appeared to be like any other road in this area. What area was this? She had forgotten. Oklahoma, maybe? Or Texas. Perhaps it was Nevada.

Annabeth carried a small suitcase with her, one of the old ones that looked like briefcases. Hers was from her father, and she carried it with her wherever she went.

A low rumble from behind her alerted Annabeth that there was a car coming. She stuck out her thumb, but the red truck sped past her in a flurry of dust.

Whose idea was it to hitchhike anyways? She thought. Oh wait, it was mine.

She kicked at the dust, cursing her bad luck. She had been walking for hours, and no one had stopped to give her a ride.

Annabeth heard the sounds of a vehicle behind her, and she half-heartedly put out a thumb, not expecting anyone to stop. A moment later, a small, worn bus limped over to the side of the road, hissing as the doors opened.

Annabeth climbed on the bus, and and the old driver tipped his hat to her.

"Not much luck with hitch-hiking, was there?" the old man asked, chuckling. Annabeth smiled.

"No. I've been walking for hours, but you're the first person to pick me up. I have to warn you, I don't have any money for a fare."

"Nah, nah. You don't have to pay. If I was in this job for the money, I woulda driven in the big cities," the driver said, waving her away.

Annabeth inclined her head in thanks, and walked farther back in the bus. The seats wrapped around the interior of the bus in a long, bench-like fashion. The center of the bus was empty, and the light from the windows illuminated the dusty interior. There was only two other people, an old lady, and a middle aged-man, both asleep.

Annabeth sat on the left hand side of the bus, facing out the right windows, so she could see the desert stretch in all directions.

As the bus's engine started, Annabeth tucked her suitcase underneath the bench and pulled out her book and began reading. The bus bumped around for a while, and the soft drone of the engine pulled Annabeth in to a trance. The landscape outside passed by quickly, and the soft sun began to set.

Around 7, the old man stopped for gas, and Annabeth hopped out and bought a sandwich at the store. She climbed back on the bus ate her sandwich.

The next morning, the sun shone through the windows, and Annabeth pushed herself upright. She hadn't even realized that she had fallen asleep. They were still in a desert area, brambles and scraggly trees passed by her window.

In late morning, the bus stopped in a small town as Annabeth was reading, and a young man with black hair climbed on the train.

The man sat directly across from Annabeth, and he looked about her age, 23. He was had piercing green eyes, and was wearing jeans and an old t-shirt that spelled out the name of a band that Annabeth loved. The man plugged headphones in to an MP3 player and leaned back in his seat.

Annabeth could feel him examining her as she read her book. She could just see his curious eyes over the top of her book, but she tried to ignore him. About 10 minutes later, he spoke.

"Now, what I'm trying to figure out," he started, "is what a girl like you is doing on a bus in the middle of nowhere."

Annabeth look up at him, and he held her gaze.

"Excuse me?" she asked, glancing to see if the other passengers were watching, but they were asleep.

He leaned forward. "What are you doing on this bus? Where are you going?'

Annabeth shrugged. "I don't know. But I'm on my way."

He sat back, grinning. "You don't say. I'm Percy, by the way. You are?"

"Annabeth," she said, shaking his hand.

Percy smiled. "I like that name. So Annabeth, you only answered one of my questions, but I'd still like to know what you are doing on this bus."

"I've always liked to travel, and I don't really have a solid job. But I'm a writer, and I'm looking for something to write about."

"I could tell you my story," Percy offered.

"Is it worth listening to?" Annabeth toyed.

"It is. But you better get out a pen and paper," he said. "I'm only gonna say it once."

Percy started speaking, telling Annabeth about how he was born in to a poor family, but his parents died in an accident when he was 12 and that ran away from the orphanage.

Whole days passed by as Percy told Annabeth his story, and she attentively wrote it down in her leather bound journal. They moved from city to city, the bus headed east, and Percy spun together tales of his life. Passengers came and went, and if Percy was originally headed somewhere in particular, he had abandoned trying to get there.

A week after Annabeth met Percy, the bus arrived in New York, and Percy finished his story.

"You've done a lot for only being 23," she remarked. "How much of that story was true?"

Percy grinned. "I am an orphan, but you'll never know about the rest."

With that he climbed off the bus, and was lost in the throng of people going about their lives. Annabeth gathered up her suitcase, thanked the old man for his services, and climbed off the bus.

She couldn't see where Percy had headed, but she knew he was gone.

A month later, Annabeth had found a small, single bedroom apartment overlooking Central Park. She placed a desk by the window, and she pulled out her journal, reading over Percy's story. A thought overtook her, and she brought out her laptop.

She turned it on, and opened a word processor. The blinking cursor sat on the blank page, and Annabeth hesitantly began to type.

I was born in to a poor family in the far stretches of Montana. I wasn't a lucky child…

Annabeth worked on Percy's story for an entire year. She didn't have to work on it much regarding the plot, Percy had already done that for her with his eccentric story telling.

In late May, she finally finished, and sent the story to a publisher, and received an email regarding her submission. It had been approved, and they wanted to publish it.

That December, Annabeth received a package that held the first printed copy of her book. The cover was a simple blue, and she tentatively opened the cover, looking at the dedication page.

This book is dedicated to Percy. I never knew your full name, or even if your story is true. But I'd like to thank you. I'm a writer now, believe it or not. A huge difference from the naïve girl on a dusty bus in some landlocked state, listening to strangers' stories. I'm not sure if you're still in New York, or if you are even reading this. I hope you do read the story, I have a feeling you'd be partial to it. But now that I think about it, you never did wonder about my story. Perhaps I'll see you again, and I can tell you it. I will have you know, I found where I'm going.

-A.C.

O.K. so that was that. I hope you enjoyed that one-shot. Now, for what I wanted to speak to you about. So you may be disappointed that Percy's whole back story wasn't in here. It is a one-shot after all, and I didn't want to have a super long story going on. SO... I wanted to put up (not really a contest) but to ask you guys to write your own version of Percy's life. You all can PM me, and let me know, and I will be sure to check out everyone's. I may add an update to this one with all of my favorite stories linked to it, but this is opportunity is open indefinitely.

Have fun writing!