18 years later

I was back at the Star Wars screening for the fifteenth year in a row and probably the least excited person in the room. Around me, people gallivanted towards their seats, many of them dressed in costumes that ranged from ridiculous to scarily accurate. There was this one Yoda that came every year who I wasn't convinced was wearing a costume. None of the Hunters were with me—I never invited them—but to my left sat a late thirties couple dressed as Leia and Han. Percy insisted that he and Annabeth join me every year. He alternately said the reason why was because he was a good friend or because Annabeth wanted to find Luke just as much as I did, but I knew he really went for the films.

Being a hunter, sometimes I forgot that not everyone stood still like I did, that others grew older while I stayed stagnant. I still thought of Percy and Annabeth as teenagers. Occasionally, I still saw Annabeth as that bright-eyed, seven-year-old girl Luke and I found in an alley. Looking at them, though, it was obvious they had lived lives—the happiness and the tragedy. Annabeth was definitely a woman now and a mother. It was written in the lines around her mouth and the wear on her hands.

Percy's hair was speckled with grey, not the grey streaks that you get from holding up the sky, but the grey that only comes from the exasperating work of raising a teenage girl. Annabeth was greying a little too, around the temples, but her grey blended with the blonde while Percy's salt and pepper stood out.

"Popcorn?" Percy offered me the bucket. The movie had not even started yet there was already a large section of the popcorn gone.

"Nuhuh," I shook my head, "Not now." I had to focus on the crowd, at each passing movie goer. If Luke was here, I was not going to miss him.

"He'd be eighteen now," Annabeth said. She was looking around lightly for Luke, taking in minute details in quick glances that even my eyes, sharpened from the hunt, missed. Neither of them really knew what to look for, what details would pass on to Luke's reincarnated soul. Would he look like Luke—if so how much? Would he act like him? He wasn't a demigod, at least not a claimed one, and unclaimed eighteen-year-olds were basically unheard of now. Yet I was certain that he would know. He had to be a hero like the original Jason, no blood connections to any gods but still dogged by monsters.

Two years ago, I thought I had found him. The kid looked like Luke, blonde hair, blue eyes, and the facial structure. He was not an exact duplicate, but, after sixteen years of searching, I was willing to make due on resemblance. "Look," I had said, grabbing Annabeth's shoulders and shaking. I had stared at this possible Luke for several minutes, trying to measure him up to my memories of Luke. The haircut was even the same. Annabeth glanced in his direction and then adamantly shook her head.

"No," Annabeth had replied, "Definitely not him. Notice his stance, it's too loose, and his hands—they are completely uncalloused. He's never touched a weapon or done any level of labor." She had just started wearing reading glasses that previous year, but apparently her far sight was perfect.

I trusted her quick judgments.

We sat in the front row of the raked seats to the far left so that everyone had to pass by us when they entered the theatre. As each group of people passed, I compared the boys who fit the age range with my memories of Luke. That kid had the right hair; the boy who came in with a large group's eyes were the right shade of blue.

Annabeth stiffened next to me. "There," she pointed to the non-raked rows below at a kid who was walking toward a seat. He was tall and gangly with a light saber strapped to his back, but other than that he was not costumed. I had noticed him when he entered but had dismissed him. He looked nothing like Luke, dressed nothing like him.

"Him?" Percy asked, following Annabeth's finger. "He doesn't exactly scream Luke Castellan."

"Annabeth, I don't think…" Annabeth cut me off with a glare that she aimed at both me and her husband in turn.

"Look at his light saber," she said. It was thicker around the blade than most light sabers, and slightly glowed. "He's concealing a magical sword in it. I would guess a celestial bronze one from the glint. His hands are calloused, and when he turned earlier I saw a scar on his face." How had I missed that? I wondered.

"He could just be a demigod, and the scar could be a fan thing. Anakin Skywalker had a scar," Percy rebutted.

"It's him," Annabeth said fiercely. I could see her as the little girl again. "The scar is on the wrong side. No one who would come to this would make that mistake." My eyes widened slightly.

"Do you really think?" I asked the useless question. Annabeth nodded, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

"It's him, Thalia. The way he moves, the scar…everything." She was excited, her eyes bright. I believed her.

"I have to talk to him," I decided just as the lights faded and the movie started.

"After this episode," Percy said, "Or else there might be a scene." I slumped back in my seat to watch New Hope for what felt like the millionth time and longest time.

Disclaimer-Still not Rick Riordan

I hope you enjoyed this. If you did, please review-if you didn't, please review and tell me how I can improve. Really reviews mean a lot especially constructive ones. Anyways look for the next one around the tenth (it might be sooner but no later).

eMMeD