He was floating. Cracks of thunder shattered the steady howling of the rain.

Where was he? He was just…. What was he just doing? A spiraling emptiness stood before him. His heart was in his throat. He was afraid. His breathing was labored. The air was acrid. He was defending something, protecting someone.

But now, he was floating. Water soaked him to his very core. He was in an ocean. The feel of the sea, while comforting, felt different. What was it supposed to feel like?

He couldn't remember.

Where was he?

He felt a pull in the water current as he sank below a wave surge and held his breath.

Giant sea rays swam beneath him, uncaring of his plight. The creatures didn't look right. They weren't the ones he was used to. What should they even look like?

He felt his back break above the waves, the rain pelting his back. It felt amazing, the water soaking into his back.

Why was he in the ocean during a giant storm? That was how you get lost at sea. Oh gods, what was that? Was someone pulling him up?

He felt his body be pulled free from the water. A pull from nothing, grasping him higher, taking him above the waves as the rain battered his being. Concentrated beams of light blinded him, forcing him to shield his eyes. For a brief moment, he saw the shadows in the darkened night. At least he wasn't in the middle of nowhere.

What were those structures above the waves? He could see them faintly between the blinding lights and the darkness of the night. Lightning flashed behind domed-shaped structures—blinking lights above and below.

Who built steel mushrooms in the sea? Why was he rising by the hands of nothing? What the Hades is going on?

He knew only one thing, and it wasn't even a sure thing. Yet, his gut well begging him to listen. He had to break free of this force. He had to get back to the sea.

The water was safe. The water was home.

Break free.

He thrashed, trying to break the invisible holds.

Break free.

He had to get into the water.

"Hold still!" A voice shouted over the howling rain. A faint holler in the symphony of the storm, but he heard it all the same, and something inside him reacted.

He reached for his pocket. He could feel a pen in there, dry to the bone and warm to the touch. Why did he have a pen in his pocket in the middle of the sea as someone lifted him up without touching him?

"Do not resist," a new and warm, feminine voice whispered in his ear. It felt familiar, someone he should trust.

What was going on…?

He watched on as he was lifted over a railing before being lowered, the lights still blinding him, solid ground meeting his descent. He could feel the invisible hands free themselves from him and give him back his mobility.

He scrambled to a steadier position as he faced his rescuers, but he steadied himself from lashing out, yet. Instead, he forced himself to look past the lights pointed at him, blocking their beams with his hand in front of his face, the other ready to use the pen. He'd been in this position before.

Armored individuals donned in white pointing guns at him. He counted eight surrounding him as a figure in a complete cloak stared down upon him. They bore no weapon as they watched him. What looked like two points, almost like horns, stuck above their head beneath their shawl. Two tubular tendrils descend from the opening where the face was shrouded.

"Do not resist," the voice spoke in his head once more, the tone firmer like a parent reprimanding a child.

"Who are you?" The robed one spoke down to him. Well, at least it sounded like she.

"Who are you guys?" He snapped back to them, slowly shifting to get his feet beneath him. He could feel the water on his clothes clinging to him. The wind and rain kissed his back. He could take them. He could feel it in his bones.

The white gunmen stepped closer, steadying their guns, ready to fire.

He let both his arms raise above his hand, showing he held nothing as he slowly stood. Lightning flashed across the sky, and in a brief moment, he saw her face before the thunder crashed above, drowning out the noise of the rain.

She wasn't human.

Whatever he had been planning to do fell apart at that moment.

The Hades was going on?

"Trust her," the voice urged impatiently. Did he have any other choice?

"I am Jedi Master Shaak Ti. Do you know where you are?"

He didn't have a clue. "Lost at sea. An alien and gunmen before me. All I know is I don't belong here."

"Yes, that would be true," the figure nodded before approaching him closer. He almost wanted to take a step back just in case, but instead, he watched her closely, hiding away his nerves. If being called an alien affected her, she made no physical reaction to comment. "This planet is restricted from all civilian interactions. To even land in these waters undetected, however, you managed it, is not normal. Therefore, my friends and I here, we will operate as you are a foe until further notice."

Foe? Well, that is kind of fair, if not impolite. Was this a government structure? That would be his luck, wouldn't it? Well, how would he really know? His memory seems to be lapsing at best.

"Sure," he began, hoping to relieve the tension. "That's great and all, but I really don't even know what's going on." All he had was faint feelings and a voice telling him what to do.

Another crack of lightning and thunder permeated the air.

"Then, if you are amendable, shall we head inside? Perhaps sort this out free from the sea storm and with fewer blasters?"

"The rains fine. I don't like the guns."

She nodded at his words before looking to the soldiers.

"Gentlemen, at ease," She intoned to them. Their guns lowered immediately but still in a half-draw. "Let's head inside," she gestured to a doorway, the light of a hallway shining through the glass. "I don't like the rain."

Was he really about to go further into the rabbit hole? What were his options here? He had so many questions beyond just what to do next, but he only knew so little.

"Trust her. She leads you to your answers," the imaginary woman spoke again, and he struggled not to yell at its vagueness. Why couldn't one's voice in their head just tell them straight? Why couldn't the voice just know the answers to his problems instead?

It didn't matter what he thought of the voice, though. It was, admittedly, right. This alien and her guard were his only options readily available beyond jumping into the water below. Following was the only way forward. She had proven she could control him without touching him, and the others had guns. Fighting would only end in more problems and fewer answers.

His only way forward really was inside.

"Interrogation room?" He asked, glancing at the bleak room with only a chair and table.

"I did say 'foe.' Just because the blasters are lowered doesn't mean we aren't cautious," she responded, gesturing him to the lone seat that pulled away from the table on its own. Spooky, but he would play along. After all, he had questions.

Immediately upon sitting, he asked, "How did you pull me out of the water?" He ignored the touch of the chair on the skin of his back. His shirt must have been torn pretty wide open back there.

"The Force," The alien told him instantly, and he met her gaze. Her eyes were brown and normal looking. A contrast to her notable orange skin and white and blue horn-tube things that replaced where hair should be. Around her eyes were white ovals that extended to her forehead. Without a doubt, an alien.

"The force?" He asked, suppressing the urge to ask about what planet she came from or if scientists were creating their own hybrids. Were the soldiers also science experiments? Too bad they weren't in the same room as him now, or else he might have asked them.

"Yes. It is many things, but in this instance, it saved you from drowning."

He didn't feel like he was drowning.

"I felt pretty safe in the water, actually."

She could only stare at him as if the idea was ludicrous and stupid. Neither spoke as she just stared. He hated it. It was awkward, to say the least. Was he not supposed to like the water? Thankfully, she broke first from their stare-off.

"Perhaps we should see to a medical evaluation to ensure your health. We are unsure how long you were floating." Water wasn't a good thing then. "Do you perchance know the date?" She asked.

The date? "Oh, um. Geez…" He trailed off, looking at the flawless white ceiling. He felt a glimpse of pain behind his eyes. What day was it? What month was it? His birthday was soon, wasn't it? "August 18th?"

Again, she remained impassive, only staring at him before tilting her head to the side, "August?"

Damn. "So, I'm off by months," he said wistfully, head dipping to look at the white table. Was everything white here? Was this a government hospital? Had to be. It was too clinical. Was she going to lock him away for studies?

"Trust her. Be honest. She is forward," the woman spoke once more in his head.

He was supposed to trust the lady? Why? Where was forward?

"What system are you from, young man?" She asked him, breaking him from his thoughts and leaving him confused. What did that mean? System?

"Define system. Because what I do know is that my education system wasn't good. I remember that."

"System refers to the group of celestial bodies orbiting a star or stars," the orange alien told him, ignoring his anecdote. Leave it to the extraterrestrial to organize things by 'systems of plants.'

"I come from Earth. And the system is like… Um, the Milky Way, I think? Yeah, that sounds right. The Milky Way."

"Earth…?" She questioned. She brought a curled hand just below her lips and looked down, thinking. "I am unfamiliar with the said planet. I have heard of Urath. But not Earth."

"No, it was Earth," he confirmed. He ignored the lancing pain behind his eyes again, but this time, a memory of being on a flying boat flew through his brain. "I can't place it, but Gaia stands out too."

"Earth. Gaia. All in the Milky Way System? Perhaps in the outer rim territ-" She asked softly, still holding her thinker's pose.

"Wait," He interrupted. "It just clicked. It's the Milky Way Galaxy! I don't know what we call our solar system beyond: our solar system."

"Are you sure?" She asked. She appeared even more thrown off from when she entered the room, calm and collected.

"Sounds right," he nodded with confidence only found in a cheating gambler.

"You are correct now."

Of course, he was.

"Hmm. Do you recall how you got here?"

"I… I don't know. Like first, where even is here? I thought this was Earth, but I'm thinking that's out the window."

"I see. What of what you were doing last, before my intervention?" She ignored his question. Rude, he was cooperating. She could, too, at least. However, what was he doing last?

Again, he felt pain behind his eyes as memories too fast to hold onto went by.

Blades collided with a shriek of grinding metal and sparks. Fires burned everywhere as demonic screams and growling drowned out a woman begging for him to come with her.

Did he tell her his thoughts? The voice said to trust her, but was he to trust her side or trust her with his side?

"Tell her your memory," the voice advised. "More will come."

He nodded to himself, probably looking dumb to the lady alien. He followed the voice in his head this far.

"I was…." He hesitated. How did he not sound like a bad guy here? "I was in a fight. Someone, something, wanted me dead. Can you believe that?" He paused, waiting for a response, earning none. "Anyways, I was holding them back…." He frowned, "I couldn't let them get around me… none of them got around me…."

"Don't be stupid! We have to go! We can't beat him!"

"Because… she had to escape."

"She?" The woman repeated.

"Yeah," He agreed like it was obvious. "I mean. She… I wasn't alone. It was someone I knew. I think it was a she. It's all like smoke, it's there, but I can't catch it all. But we were fleeing. I can almost see her in my head, but it's... It's not complete."

He could hear a soft melodic laugh echo in his ears. He could feel a well of happiness just from it. The laugh was hers. The one he was fighting for. A laugh worth fighting for. He could feel the softness of her hair as if he ran his hand through it. He could feel a stabbing pain in his back that he pointedly suppressed reacting to. A woman worth killing for. A woman worth dying for.

Did he die?

"What were you fleeing from?" His interrogator prodded.

"All falls before I," the behemoth gloated, marching forward. It swung a blade coated in a blood-red fire that slashed through shadowed figures that separated him from the Creature. "Your death will be cleaner by the maw of a hound compared to what I have planned for you. Oh, Great Savior!"

He readied his own blade, yelling for someone, forher, to go on. He stared down this swirling-faced monster. He had fought scarier creatures, but it didn't stop the tremble of his own blade before him. A collection of red and gold liquid coalesced around his hands to steady them. The blood of the fallen coated his arms and gave him the strength to hold strong, and his anger for the world and his life fueled that strength.

"A giant," he told her. "He wielded a blade. It was red, like a hellish flame. He was marching at me, at us. He tore through everything to get to me. He even cut down his allies. He wanted nothing but to kill me… He talked of how horrific he would make it," He ignored the phantom pain in his back. "So, obviously, I raised my own blade back."

He glanced to the orange lady who held his gaze now. Her gaze steadily followed his as she looked from one corner of his eye to the other. Her silence was deafening as she dissected every word he had just spoken.

He could hear his blood pumping in his own ears. He couldn't stand it. He needed a noise.

Both sides remained quiet, still absorbing what was stated.

"Are you sure it was red?" She finally asked, breaking her gaze to look at his hands that noisily tapped on the table before meeting his eyes again. "His blade?"

"Tell her it was. The blade was red," the woman in his head insisted.

"Everything around me was red like blood. It was lashing out everywhere. Death was everywhere."

"I see…." She stated slowly before stepping away from the table to pace. "What else can you tell me?"

He searched his thoughts for more to say, to remember. Yet, there was no lance of pain, no memory, and no voice willing a response out of him.

"I… I'm unsure."

She nodded as if expecting the answer. "What of your name? You have never shared it."

"Percy, but if you are trying to kill me, Perseus Jackson."

She nodded, silently echoing his full name to herself as if committing it to her memory before returning her focus to him.

"Well, Percy, I want you to get a medical evaluation as soon as we can arrange it."

That through him off. He was expecting a dismissal to wait or something, but medical attention…? Did you give your 'foe' medical attention?

"Why?" He asked.

"As both of us can tell, you are experiencing levels of amnesia. Likely assorted with trauma to the brain, physical, and/or mental stress. You have a glaring wound up your spine that looks to be healing. That is only what I can tell of with minimal knowledge. Thus, we shall proceed with caution and make sure you are fine. You have a story that I must know, and I will see to learning it."

"Am I still a foe?" Percy asked.

"I seem to know only as much as you do on that front."

"I've only cooperated. I've given blind trust to you."

"Yes, while I appreciate it. It is a time of war. Caution must prevail," she countered.

War?

"War!" He jumped at the word, "I was in a war too." He hoped his words would provoke something from her, but she just stood impassive as when she first entered the room. Whatever had provoked her earlier had left her.

"Even more to ponder on. A soldier who has combatted a Sith but has no recollection of why or how he ended up here…. Your back proves you have taken a blow from some saber. So, understand this, Percy: I believe you to be honest, but I have much to consider and dwell upon before I can decide what the smartest choice of action is."

"Ask her what the Force thinks," the voice advised.

"What is your 'Force' thing telling you now, then?"

She hesitated at the question. He could see the uncertainty cracking at her façade. "I am unsure. I feel that you are important. The Force coalesces around you as it does for Skywalker…. My gut tells me that you will decide the fate of many things," she paused to stare into his soul, her gaze hardening. "Good or bad, I do not know. That, I must find out before anything else."

"I see," Percy resigned, sinking into his seat. "Maybe by the next time we speak, I can tell you more."

"I can only hope. For both our sakes."

The guards in white moved him again. He was a cell or something close to it. The bleak white walls seemed to be the only thing in this entire building. It was all too white. It was almost numbing to the senses. Maybe that was the point?

He had a bed, at least, and a toilet.

Yet, here he was, alone in this cell. Nothing on him but his damp, ripped clothes. She, the alien, 'Shock Tea,' or something, said she would have fresh clothes come by sooner than later, but that could be at any point.

Where were his memories? Where was he? When was he?

Aliens and buildings floating at sea? That didn't feel right. He was once likely on a flying boat, so maybe the floating structure wasn't too farfetched, but she didn't know of Earth… What did he know of Earth?

How did anything feel right or wrong if he only had a glimpse of his memories?

What was going on?

He reached into his pocket. The only thing he had with him besides his clothes.

A single pen. The only link to what was before… He flicked the cap off, easily catching it in his left hand.

Shink.

The once pen was now a sword. At least the pommel and some of the blade.

It felt comfortable. It felt natural. It felt right.

The broken blade that was in his hand, he was using it in his memories, but it wasn't broken then. Nor was it stained black, or more aptly, charred black. The bronze material looked as if it was shattered in the middle of the blade, and then one side of the blade was melted and dulled, leaving only the other side to be sharp, just enough to cut. The scripture that once decorated the metal was unreadable from where the melted metal had cooled over parts of it.

What happened?

He took the cap from his left hand and placed it upon the scorched, shattered sword. Like magic, it was a pen again.

Not a moment too soon either, as there was a knock on the door before it slid open. 'Shock Tea' was back.

"Clothes," She offered, extending her hands forward as the clothes began to float towards him. He could only watch as they approached, unaided. Of course, they were white too.

"The Force," the voice in his head informed him as the clothes landed in his possession.

"Thanks."

"Any revelations in the past twenty minutes?" She asked earnestly.

Did he tell her of his hidden blade? Did he tell her that it was broken?

"Tell her you are a swordsman."

Was that really the best way forward? To present himself as capable of being a threat? Why did this voice advise him? Was it always like this? The voice felt so familiar…. Like a mother guiding her son through a difficult time. Providing the right words to keep him going. It felt right. It felt wrong. But he had no other way forward….

"I wielded a blade myself."

"A blade?" He had her attention.

"Would you believe me if I said it glowed too?" He watched her eyes widen before hardening again.

"I would be eager to hear what color."

"Bronze-ish. Yellow? It was more like a light."

"I see, bronze-ish yellow... Percy Jackson, the warrior of Earth in the Milky Way galaxy, if I were to let you out of this door, what would you do?"

What would he do? He had nothing. He knew nothing. There was nothing he could do. All he had was his gut, a broken blade, and a voice telling him to stay.

"I… I don't know. Water is safe?"

"The water? Is safe?" She asked, disbelieving. Seriously, what was wrong with the water, then?

"I want to go to the water. It calls to me. Yet, there is this voice inside me telling me to trust you. That you are my way forward."

"You give me even more to dwell upon," She sighed. Does he apologize for that?

"I'm not leaving anytime soon, am I?"

"Afraid not," She answered honestly. "But I will endeavor to be quick as I can afford."

"That's fine. Could I have at least get a meal?"

She nodded, "It will be arranged."

"Thanks."

He watched the door close behind her and her billowing brown robes. At least he had dry clothes within this prison of white.

A bleak cell, failing memories, a voice in his head, and a broken blade.

A different time? A different world? A different life?

He felt for his pen-blade again.

It wasn't a different life. He eyed the ruined end of the blade where it was half sharp and half melted, bringing his finger to the sharp edge.

It was just a different point in his life.

The only thing he was sure of was: He was a fighter in a war. He fought for something, to protect someone.

AN: I have so many story ideas that I have been sitting on for a while. Probably going to post a PJOxHP fic soon, too, before I just cycle the then four stories more consistently. So, favorite and follow my profile and stay up to date on my stories if my work interests you, or go to the story that does and follow there. Those silly little numbers make me happy and more productive.

That said, I have this idea all road-mapped out, but the final conclusion is undecided. It will span the Clone Wars. Order 66 and onwards is up in the air. I have too many ideas to cement a path. Whether I continue on to the Rebellion, Happy endings, or something else, that is for time to tell.

For people on the fence about this story, here is a glimpse into the purpose of what I want from this story: I wanted to create a fic that mirrors the story of Anakin in ways but ultimately shows where Anakin's passion could have gone on to be without changing Anakin's fall. Hence, why I introduce Percy Jackson. If you are expecting Godly interventions and divine OP'ness from Percy, temper that idea now. I'm taking it upon myself to 'nerf' the character with justified reasons. He is by no means powerless, but he isn't going to just flood everything. I want him to be a soldier first before a demigod. I want him to feel, to be conflicted, to have faults.

This will be a longer fic, and themes and questions will take time to come to fruition. Be patient.

Also, for keen eyes, there will be symbolism and such notions throughout my story. For instance, Riptide will have meaning more than it will have a purpose.

I hope you stick around and see where I take this story.

As always, if you want to contact me, PM me or reach out to me on Discord. I'm accessible on the Emerald Library discord server. (Search it in the discord server browser) I go by Manke on that site. I love talking about my work. I also am in the market for someone who is interested in committing to working with me and my lengthy ideas and messy notes. If that interests you, please reach out to me on Discord.

That's about it.

-Manke