((A/N Hey guys! I've decided to begin a PJO fanfic, because my HG one took off pretty well, so let's see what happened here :) READ & REVIEW! :D))

[This story is in Annabeth's POV unless otherwise specified. All characters and such belong to Rick Riordan, whom I adore. This is all based off of his stories. This fanfic story takes place six months after The Last Olympian ends. This storyline assumes that the Heroes of Olympus books never happen. I apologize for any grammatical/spelling errors, as most of my writing takes place on my phone... Darn autocorrect.]

Cold.

All I feel is cold.

I can hear the rustles of bed sheets, and sometimes I'm aware enough to pick out muffled voices, but overall I'm not mentally present. Like only half of me is really with my body.

The other half of my mind floats through dreams and visions, too many to remember. I try to focus on the happier ones, but the nightmares are inevitable. I'm a demigod after all. There's something wrong if you're a demigod with enough sleep. Despite how long I've been immobile in bed (which I'm not sure how long it's been), I don't feel well-rested at all.

It's the cold that begins to wake me up, slowly but surely. My ears begin to clear over a few days, and once more I'm able to see light through my red eyelids. With every sharpening of my senses, however, the cold becomes more frigid. I shake under the thin sheet that covers me, hoping that someone will care enough to layer quilt after quilt on top of me.

My toes get the worst of it. About a week after I begin to gain consciousness, I shift my feet together, yearning to rub them against each other for warmth. This small movement gained a shriek of glee from whoever happened to be visiting my limp body that day.

When the chills become so violent that I consider submitting to eternal unconsciousness, it happens: I'm able to part my lips and release a noise. I sound like a high-pitched turkey being strangled, but I don't care. I'm returning.

A few hours later my eyelids flutter, harsh yellow light meeting them. I wince back into my pillow, shivering uncontrollably.

And then I see him.

He bends over me, face contorted in an adorable worry that sends my heart skipping. Unfortunately this makes a monitor attached to my bed panic, and he is ordered out of the room by a pair of Apollo nurses. They sedate me with a needle to the arm, and I fall back into my consciousness limbo.

And then I wake with a start, heart slamming against the inside of my chest so hard it hurts. I gasp for air, clutching my sternum, and await the familiar beeping noise that I'm so used to accompanying my nightmares; this time it doesn't come.

I roll my eyes upward, and see that where my heart monitor once was is now decorated with balloons and a teddy bear, the computer absent. A small stream of air leaves my parted lips as I realize I must be getting better.

Yet I don't remember why I need getting better. Was I sick? Am I still sick? Or was I wounded, maybe with a severe concussion? Whatever happened, I'm so ready to be out of this stupid hospital bed.

I try to call for a nurse, but only a crackling sound us emitted from my throat. I try to subdue the rising thirst I feel when I realize how dry my mouth is. Instead I run my sandpaper tongue over my teeth and take deep breaths through my nose. I recall that to produce saliva, a foreign substance must be placed on your tongue.

Dizziness overwhelms me as I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I grip the edge for support, my head swimming. When it clears I scan the room.

It's the infirmary at camp, I can tell by the paintings of Apollo and the lack of adult workers. But I've never seen this specific room. Everything is white except for the paintings and the array of gifts balanced at the head of my cot. It looks as though it's normally used for long-term patients.

I peel my chapped lips apart, and reach for the nearest thing I can suck on: a plant stem.

Out of the bouquet that replaced my monitor, I pluck a dandelion and place the green end in my mouth. I let the dandelion flavor fill my mouth, and my stomach rumbles in encouragement. Instantly I wonder how long it's been since I've eaten.

My curiosity leads me to stand, to search the room for a calendar; instead, the moment I reach my full height, I collapse. My knees smack into the tile floor and my palms follow. I try to pull myself back onto the bed, but my attempt sends the flower vase teetering off balance. It too smashes to the floor, sending shards of glass in all directions.

The noise alerts the nurses of my awakening, and they rush in almost immediately, worry plastered on each of their faces.

"I told you we shouldn't have kept that there." One girl says grudgingly.

"Sweetie, don't move, okay? We don't want you cutting up your pretty little hands." Another girl practically sings.

I do not recognize either of them, which is strange because I thought I knew everyone at camp.

"Who...?" I trail off when I see the greenish tint to their skin, "Dryads?"

"I'm Emmy, and this is Janice. We've been taking care of you since... Well..." The perky one squeaks, her high pitched voice unsure.

I want to ask questions. In fact, I feel as though I have so many in my brain that I can't focus. But my throat aches when I speak, so all I do is freeze and let Emmy and Janice work on getting me out of my glass mess and back into bed with minimal injuries. In the end all I have is a cut on my hand, and badly bruised knees.

"Now, Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena." Janice sounds exasperated, "You're date of discharge isn't supposed to be until three days from now. But seeing that you seem healthy and aware..." She glances up at me as I chew on another stem, "Aware enough, anyways... You're cleared to leave as soon as Percy shows up to take you."

His name makes my stomach clench, and I find myself grinning widely.

Janice eyes me, "I sure hope Emmy knows what she's doing by letting you out early..."

But I barely hear her. My mind is revolving around green eyes and the smell of salt water taffy.

Percy will be able to answer my questions. He'll be able to get me out of this place.

I stare up at the white ceiling, breathing deeply and letting myself relax. I don't usually get this panicky. I'm Annabeth Chase. My middle name is composure.

My first hint as to what put me in this infirmary happens when I try to remember what my real middle name is. But the thing is... I can't remember.

My breathing quickens, and for a moment I wish that my monitor would sound, calling the nurses to put me under. But then the door to my room burst open.

His eyes focus on me, and when it registers that I'm awake and responsive, he lets out a huge breath and rushes over to me, throwing his arms around my shoulders.

I'm engulfed in his smell, his embrace, and in that moment I feel perfect again.

Then he ruins that moment of perfection by kissing me.

I jerk away reflexively, narrowly missing the headboard. My lungs threaten to fill past their capacity as I gasp roughly.

"What... The... Hades?" I inch away from him. He steps back in a half-apologetic, half-hurt manner. This confuses me.

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" His eyebrows knit together, and his hands go up as if surrendering.

"You freaking kissed me!" I nearly yell, ignoring the ripping sensation in my larynx.

"I... I..." He stumbles, clearly as confused about my reaction than I was to his action.

"Perseus Jackson?" Emmy and Janice enter through the door, each holding clipboards. "I should warn you. Miss Chase may have some... Er... different memories than before..." Emmy ends her warning awkwardly, seeing the defensive positions of both Percy and I.

"Different how?" Percy and I say unanimously.

"Um... Uh... Some of her memories are gone. Some are altered. With this," Emmy pats a bottle balanced on get clipboard, "Her mind will reconstruct itself. She'll be back to normal soon." The doubt in her voice worries me.

"So we can go?" Percy asks, resuming his position closer to me as if the past few minutes didn't happen.

"Please! Just leave!" Janice groans loudly, stomping out of the room.

"Take one of these every twelve hours. You've been a model patient, Annabeth." Emmy smiles politely, hands the bottle to Percy, and then shuffles after her partner.

The silence that follows is excruciatingly awkward.

But I'd prefer it to the even more awkward thing Percy voices: "You've never rejected me before."

"Before? What does that even mean?"

"I think it's the opposite of after... But you're the smart one in our relationship."

"Wait. Slow down. Relationship?" I gape at him.

"Yeah. We've been together for six months next week."

"And by together you mean...?"

"Dating." He cocks his head to the side slightly, studying my expression, "Please, please tell me you believe me. Anyone at camp can tell you. We even won 'Cutest Couple' at last month's awards ceremony!" He pulls out his wallet and shows me a picture of us smiling together, his hand around my waist, my arm looped over his shoulders. We look so happy, yet I can't remember the day it was taken.

"Look, Percy. I believe you. But right now, in my mind you're... You're my best friend." I wince at the grief that consumes his expression. He sides his wallet into his back pocket almost mechanically, in shock. "I'm sure the medicine will help me remember though." I add quickly.

He snorts, sighs, and then offers me a hand. I take it gratefully and pull myself to my feet.

"Where to?" I inquire as he lugs me out of the infirmary.

He glances down at me and smirks when he sees my hospital gown. "Your cabin. We have got to get you some pants."