So I was reading Percy Jackson with 'losing your memory' stuck in my head and I was hit with the inspiration to write this. I may or may not have made myself cry whilst writing this. Buckle up for a boat load of feels.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything! I am possession-less! Rick Riordan owns Percy Jackson, I do not :(

I also do not own the song that inspired this, that's Ryan Star's stuff. Don't steal from Ryan, that's mean.

Please give reviews to this possession-less writer!


Where have you gone?
The beach is so cold in winter here
And where have I gone?
I wake in Montauk with you near

Remember the day
'Cause this is what dreams should always be
I just want to stay
I just want to keep this dream in me

You're losing your memory now
You're losing your memory now
You're losing your memory now
You're losing your memory

Everyone had gone. I stood there, in the empty battle field, sword gripped tightly in my hand. And yet, I could do nothing. I was too late. Perhaps if I had just done something, anything different... But no. Now everyone I had ever held dear had died because I couldn't save them. Our quest had failed by the worst possible definition.

Annabeth, Jason, Nico, Frank, Hazel, Piper, Leo... Everyone I knew from both Camp Jupiter and Camp Half blood. They had valiantly gone into their final battle while I was off completing some other thing that in retrospect wasn't nearly as important as I thought it to be at the time. It wasn't important at all.

Other people had died because of me; normal, innocent, naive people who didn't know what was happening. I alone survived because I was stupid. Now others had paid the price, everyone... My Mom...

I didn't even try to stop the sob that wracked through my body as my sword clattered to the ground along with my own body. Nobody was around to hear my cries anyway. I cried and cried until no more tears would come. I must have eventually lost consciousness.

The next thing I was aware of was of being tucked up in sheets and warm, comforting hands gripping my shoulders.

"Percy?" a voice was calling as if they were concerned. Where did I know that voice from? "Percy! Percy, wake up!"

I didn't want to wake up, everyone I cared about was dead and I had no reason to live anymore. I wanted to leave my eyes shut and never open them. I should have died with the rest of them anyway. But I knew that voice!

I opened my eyes and didn't know whether or not I should be glad of the hallucination that stood before me. It must have been a hallucination, for how else would anyone explain the sight of pure happiness after a time of such loss. There next to me stood my mother, looking down on me with nothing but loving concern, her grey-streaked brown hair knotted but still beautiful. Everything about her was beautiful. But she was surely nothing but part of my imagination.

"M-Mom?" I said.

"Yes sweetie it's me, did you have a bad dream?" she asked.

At first I was confused as to why my dream Mom was asking me if I had a bad dream – this was the dream. Then I realized just where I was: Montauk beach. The calendar on the wall told me that it was the same day that I was first taken to Camp Half Blood. I was only a twelve year old boy on a beach holiday with my mom.

I nodded, trying and failing to hold back my sobs as I clutched onto her as though my life depended on it.

"It's okay, Percy, I'm here," she muttered soothingly.

When the tears had stopped falling at the thought of losing everyone that was close to me, they restarted at the realisation that none of it was real to begin with. There never was any Camp Half Blood. Mr Brunner really was just a batty old Latin teacher in a wheelchair. Grover really was just a socially awkward guy with a leg condition. There was no Annabeth, no prophecy, no Quest; just me and my overactive imagination.

Mom was right, everything was perfectly okay. There were no monsters to fight, no Titans about to take over the world. But I wasn't okay. Despite the pain and the loss, that dream brought me everything I'd ever wanted, it gave me an explanation as to why I am like I am and brought me people who were like me. As reality set in, the dream began to fade.

My name is Percy Jackson.

I'm twelve years old. Until a few months ago, I was a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for upstate New York.

Now I have to brave the summer dealing with Smelly Gabe and worrying about where I'll go to school next year.

There is no such thing as Camp Half Blood. Greek gods are just myths and legends made up to make those ancient civilizations feel as though they had a purpose. Half-bloods? Never heard of them.