Lost In My Memories Without You

Prologue

Stumbling. Running. Tripping, falling on the cold, damp rocks. He couldn't see what his hand just landed in. Water? Mud? Vomit? Blood? He wasn't sure. "ANNABETH!" he screamed. That was all that mattered. Where was Annabeth? Was she alive? Was she okay? Where was she?

It was too dark, the air was too thick. He couldn't breathe, all sound was absorbed and warped by the thick clouds that filled Tartarus. The only light was emitted by the occasional flash of some fire-breathing horror, probably picking on something equally terrible. At those moments he could see their eyes. Millions of them, everywhere, every color, and none of them felt like that guardian-angel-watching-over-you bullshit. This was the place even a guardian angel would not dare enter.

But Percy would. Did that make him an idiot? Probably. But it was for Annabeth, the girl whom he'd move mountains for. The girl who was ripped from his hands. The girl who had been screaming, but now was alarmingly silent. The girl he just tripped over. The girl whose cold, lifeless eyes shocked him awake.

He gasped awake, in a cold sweat. The hum of the Argo II's engine rang louder than usual in his ears, but he barely heard it over that image ringing in his mind.

It all happened, just like before, except in his nightmare-no, night terror-when he rolled her over after stumbling over she didn't moan in pain and cough up blood (which was still horrifying, but still alive). No, she was silent, cold, dead.

His fingers itched at his sheets, needing to feel the warmth of her skin upon his own. To know she was alive. That's not what happened, he knew, but it was close enough and vivid enough to make him double-check.

Percy raked a hand through his dark waves of unkempt hair as he sat up, wincing as the scars on his body stretched with his abused skin. He stood on his legs, ignoring their protests, and crossed his room and crept down the hallway to her cabin.

He lightly rapped his bruised knuckles on the soft wood. "Come in," a weak and exhausted voice groaned, muffled by the closed door. The hinges squealed in displeasure as he pushed his way into the room, stopping in the doorway to observe the current state of the daughter of Athena.

Her blond hair was slightly tangled and indecisive, looking as if she had just walked through a hurricane. Annabeth's knees were drawn to her chest, and her too-thin arms draped lazily over them. Her sunken, weary eyes were framed by dark circles and her worn Camp Half-Blood T-Shirt hung loosely on her shoulders, making her look even smaller.

She cast her eyes down, looking ashamed. "I... couldn't sleep." Percy cracked a small, sympathetic smile before plopping down beside her on the bed.
"I know," he whispered. "I wouldn't blame you had you not even tried. I came in here to make sure you were alive, in all honesty. I think staying awake is equally as restful as sleep at this point... I don't think either of us will sleep easily for a long while."

For once, Annabeth thought, Seaweed Brain was right.