His mouth must have been filled with cotton for how difficult it was to speak now. His head dipped down in another affirming nod, agreeing to forget everything just to keep one mortal safe. But as far as Percy saw it, there were thousands of demigods to handle the monsters, and he'd been a problem anyway. A broken vow. A mistake. Now that would be corrected. 

The thing about the monsters of Tartarus, is that they wouldn't come after a godling until they discovered their identity. Stalk, murmur about, catch up on, of course, but no frontal attacks. Besides, it would please Luke. 

So for all intents and purposes, Percy Jackson would no longer be a son of Poseidon. 

He'd be a nobody. His eyes, currently as stormy as the ocean on a New York November day, drew to Annabeth, with her silver plated irises and an expression between absolute fear and awe. The girl he'd give it all up for- The girl he wouldn't remember. 

And this is what being a hero was. It wasn't how many bad guys you could knock down, or how many tests you could ace. It wasn't how fast or strong or clever you were in the end, it was how brave and how loving you could be, as a human, for others above yourself. To find solace in knowing that even metaphorically dying for someone, that you won't regret it, because they're something to be treasured. It's knowing that you may not get to be the one to treasure them, losing that idea of a perfect life with the perfect person, it's relinquishing that so they don't have to fight. 

Poseidon sighed heavily, and it was the effect of a sea breeze rippling across the room. Percy must have been hallucinating with fear- for he could swear the massive span of marble flooring within the building rolled with an unimpactful wave. But within his large weathered hand formed a goblet, small in his godly fingers, yet full of everything that made Percy who he was. He extended it downwards towards his son, who curled trembling fingers around it, Annabeth scowling in thought. As if she could hope to understand this in time to talk him down. 

"This is ridiculous, Percy, that could be poison," her California fingers tugged on his shirt- And it just reminded him of everything he stood to lose for her. Tonight was bottom's up as he tipped it back, the metal biting into his lip with cold as the fantastical river curled a thousand wisps around his memories.

"Percy!" Annabeth cried. 

He lowered the goblet, his brow furrowing in confusion. The little things went first. His first fish's name. His kindergarten dream. Whether his shoes at home were blue or black. But then the larger things faded, and he realized he was crying, he was trying. To hold on. There went the blue jelly beans. The coke. The summer camp capture the flag events. His stepfather's name. What floor of the building he was on. That he knew Ancient Greek. 

The golden craftwork tumbled from his hand, clattering with a thunderous echo onto the floor, and he was quick to follow, his legs shaking too badly to hold him up any longer. Annabeth never let go, her fingers on his clothing drawing her down with him. "Percy..." She murmured, her face falling to one of concern, her thumb brushing his tears across his cheek. 

What was his mother's name? Sammy? Sandy? Ally? Sally. Sally... Sally what? Who was Sally? His eyes, full of trouble, raised to Annabeth just as one of Poseidon's fingers touched her hairline. She blinked as if in a daze, staring at her hands on Percy's face in confusion. Then Olympus melted away. What was Olympus? That wasn't real.

He was laughing. And it hurt, his chest hurt. His lungs were corrupted with holes and he wasn't getting enough air. Annabeth was watching the world spin as she pulled Percy to her, his head falling hopelessly to her shoulder. "Shh. It's okay."

She was putting aside her confusion at why the world was so... Odd. Because here was her friend who was terrified and breaking apart at the seams, but she couldn't remember why. She couldn't puzzle it out. 

So she gave him what she could, her comfort, her hand running up and down his back.

Her other hand slipped to curl around his fingers. His grip in return was painful, and his knuckles were white, as if he was afraid to let go. And she could just barely hear names passing his lips; no, that wasn't right, she could feel them, against her shoulder with the way the cotton of her shirt moved. 

Thalia. Jason. Nico. Paul. Annabeth.

It was a mantra for him- but as he continued, he seemed to grow more strained. Thalia. Ja-Jay... Nico. Pan. Annabeth.

Aliyah. Nick. Annabeth.

Annabeth. 

Annabeth.

His grip was tighter. It hurt, she wanted to draw it back. She didn't, but rather shook her head. "Thalia, Jason, Nico, Paul, and Annabeth." She wanted him to remember his friends. Wanted him to remember her. Being forgotten is a terrible feeling, but what was worse was the terrible feeling that whatever was going on was his fault. 

His eyes lifted, glassy from shedding liquid pain. His expression looked blank. Other than the confusion of a newborn doe. "Where am I?"

"New York... Just New York." What had happened to Percy? Annabeth didn't understand. People did not forget everything in a day. Not without trauma, right? But other than the blade-sharp fragments of his eyes, he was untouched. Perfect as always.

Then he shook his head. "I need to... There's a... What's my name?"

And he looked so lost. Annabeth felt her stomach tighten. He needed help. He didn't understand. "What happened to you, Percy?"

"I... Am I Percy?" He nodded, repeating the name again and again. Four times. "Percy, Percy, Percy, Percy. I don't remember. I don't know. I... Do I live somewhere? Do I know you?"

The saddest part of this whole ordeal was that Annabeth completely believed that he didn't know anymore. And it broke her heart. But why? She had a burning curiosity to dig further into this. It was a phenomenon! A tragic one all the same.

"No," Annabeth whispered into his hair. "But I'd like for you to." This was a chance to leave behind all of the mess she'd made. It was as if... By Percy forgetting everything, she was given an opportunity to take back everything dark that had happened, so when he experienced things for the 'first' time, it would be lovely, like the ocean, and not terrifying like its darkest reaches. Why? Somehow... Some way, she knew she was responsible. She'd been in love with him, and turned him away. For Luke. 

Annabeth Chase almost wished it was her who had forgotten who she was. To restart, and make a new title for yourself? Who doesn't wish to do something differently? Everyone had regrets. Everyone had ghosts. Everyone who remembered.