He's singing, "She's a, she's a lady, and I am just a line without a hook"

~Line Without a Hook by Ricky Montgomery (ft. mxmtoon)


"Sorry, can you just remind me what's your name again?" Perseus says. Her expression quickly sours hearing this. "I'm really sorry," he adds bashfully, as if he isn't quite sure what he's done wrong.

Her heart turns cold. The rays of sunlight beating against her back let up for a chilling breeze. Thanks for having my back on this, Apollo.

Annabeth tries hard to squeeze out a smile. She is sure that it looks more like a grimace or a wince, though, but justifiably so: her heart is being trampled and tossed and torn with each progressing second that she spends together with him. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She's imagined their reunions for months: it was going to be full of fanfare, love, and relief. So, in the absence of that, there is nothing but emptiness, pain, and trepidation. But Annabeth can bear it all - she must. It is what children of Athena do.

"Annabeth," she rasps after a few beats too long. "It's Annabeth," she repeats, this time louder, surer, but sadder. She turns her head away so he doesn't see the tell-tale signs of the teardrops welling and reflecting in her eyes.

The daughter of Athena is trying her hardest to wrap her mind around this… anomaly . She needs to get used to Percy's amnesia and figure out a way to cure it. If she treats it like every other problem in her life, given enough probing and analyzing, she must be able to solve it. To fix him . Percy - her boyfriend, her best friend - or at least, he used to be both of those things.

Giving herself a mental kick, Annabeth attempts to reason. She needs to accept the facts: this person in front of her is a stranger. If he doesn't recognize her by the Argo II, Perseus probably never will. Percy Jackson used to be a care-free goofball that was hers . Now, she isn't really sure who he is anymore.

More accurately: Annabeth isn't really sure if there is still an 'us' that exists beyond the confines of her memory anymore.

Memory is a fickle thing: was there ever really a relationship between the two of them if only one remembers any traces of its existence? She remembers how blankly he looked at her just hours prior. Tabula rasa - a true blank slate. That's what Hera had gifted her: a curse that only she bears the imprints of. Annabeth alone is tortured by the development - how convenient. As if all the cow dung that the Queen of Olympus left around for her to step in wasn't enough.

The two demigods climb over a little hill and the wind blows through Perseus' hair, ruffling it in the way that makes it seem like he just stepped out from an afternoon surfing the waves. It's fitting for a son of Neptune. Annabeth remembers the looks of it all too well, but the essence of the familiar scene feels wrong.

Perseus looks about the same on the outside: dashing in a purple shirt and matching robe, sea green eyes beautiful and startling, every part the Praetor he is. It's just that instead of love, he sees her with indifference: she is just a leader of the opposing camp and somehow he is obliged to entertain her as a part of fulfilling his duties for his new home.

As much as Annabeth thinks about how well she would fit into his embrace and how the sharp lines of his jaw (perfect for her butterfly kisses) grew more prominent in the months that he is missing, the son of Neptune is still more tense around her than she has ever seen.

There is no recognition in his eyes.

It is obvious. Perseus sees Annabeth as an enemy (best case: a potential comrade in a war that threatens to wage on the horizon) and she recognizes that little scrunch in his eyebrow that only reserves for people who he hasn't quite developed trust for quite yet. This breaks her up more than she would ever care to admit.

"I heard that you liked architecture," he stops under the shades of a tree and speaks cautiously, trying to make conversation after another brief awkward moment of silence.

"Yeah? Who told you that?" Annabeth says, still looking away. She wishes that the hills are not so vast so she has a convenient excuse to rest her sight on - so that he can't see the fat drops that are almost rolling down her cheek. Who has this Percy spoken to about her? What form does she take in his head? Has he heard about the feud between Athena and Poseidon? Does he even know that he is really a son of Poseidon, not Neptune? Does he understand what that means?

Percy doesn't answer her for a few seconds and Annabeth risks a glance at him. He just looks confused, and Annabeth resists letting out an easy laugh and calling him a Seaweed Brain.

When was the last time she called him that? She can't even remember herself.

The sudden urge of calling him by his pet name (and the subsequent inability for her to do so, partly due to propriety and partly because she can't trust herself to speak at the moment without breaking into a sob) just makes her extra sad.

"You know, I don't remember. My memories are having all kinds of issues today, huh? My apologies." He shrugs, shaking his head. Annabeth chuckles with acrid bitterness that only she is privy to. Percy presses on, "well, I just mentioned that because we have some time before dinner to swing by a few Roman temples and I thought that maybe you'd enjoy it."

Annabeth wants to refuse because these gestures of politeness (where affection should take form instead) makes her want to scream, but she nods before she can help herself. It's easier than trusting herself to speak.

Percy offers her a hand. She looks down on it, flabbergasted.

For a second, Annabeth pretends that they are at the foot of the strawberry hill, where she sometimes babbles on about her grand plans for Olympus (and beyond) as Percy listens on with a stupid grin on his face, but then she sees the mountains far away and remembers that this is Oakland hills, and the only one who is doing any remembering here is her.

It is probably improper for her to keep daydreaming and pretending that it is a better time, anyway. The few months of peace that they got to enjoy after the Titan war last summer were long gone.

It's just that the daughter of Athena remembers too much and it is too painful, and she wonders if it is better to be the one doing the forgetting or be the one who is forgotten. It's simple: there is loss for both, but it is the burden of knowing what is lost that hurts the most.

So, maybe she can try to stop impressing this new Percy into the shape of the old one she used to know because it doesn't matter anymore. Shouldn't she just count her blessing that he is not dead, that he is physically well and reasonably happy? Maybe that's more than any demigod can ever ask for in their life.

And maybe, just maybe , there will be a chance for them to get his memory back. Together.

Annabeth smiles for the first time since she sees Percy from the deck of the Argo, meeting his eyes and taking his hand, "thanks, I'd love that."

Percy leads the way in front of her with a sweep of his robe, trusting her to follow. They walk together without looking back.


hello there. hopefully i'll have more writing for you all soon. been dealing with a lot of life stuff

leave a review if you enjoyed & hope that join me & ~170 others on my PJO Discord server (code: 8Qmdvn4)