Author's Note: So, I decided to get back into writing after a long hiatus and this is my "let's get back into writing" story. This idea has been entertaining me for quite a few months now and I finally decided to put it down on paper (or electronically, but we can pretend that it's paper). Tell me how I did in a review!

This story takes place after the Last Olympian and is ignoring the newer Heroes of Olympus series.

Thalia opened the old shoe box and began sorting. The Hunters of Artemis were due to leave in two hours and she wanted everything packed by then. There was really very little she needed or had left here (after all, she hadn't exactly spent long at Camp before...well, before becoming a pine tree and joining the Hunters of Artemis), but there were a couple of things she hadn't thought to bring until now.

Thalia thumbed a picture of Luke, Annabeth, and herself. A wave of memories engulfed her as she watched the picture of them smiling and laughing, messing around. They all looked so happy. She missed those days, fighting together, standing together. Of course, she had more people to fight alongside now, but still...still...

She placed the picture next to a silver backpack, courtesy of Artemis. The goddess was very generous in giving gifts to her Hunters and the backpack was one of Thalia's favorites. The backpack was light and compact no matter how much stuff she put in there, which was really, quite useful. It was also surprisingly durable—somehow it hadn't been scratched despite the numerous battles she had taken it into.

The next three pictures in the shoebox were newer ones that she'd taken about three months after the Second Titan War. The first was of Percy, Annabeth, and herself. The son of Poseidon was in the middle, his arm around the two of them, a gigantic grin on his face. Annabeth had her arms around Percy in an embrace, the most relaxed smile Thalia had seen on the girl in a while. Thalia remembered having tickled Percy afterwards (the boy was surprisingly ticklish for being the Hero of Olympus). In the background was the Big House. Chiron appeared to have photo-bombed in the background, though Thalia doubted it was on purpose.

The next was the same, though this time Grover was with them. The goofy satyr had half of a tin can in his mouth, having been pushed away from the camera and forced to take a photo. Percy was laughing and Thalia was as well while Annabeth shook her head. Thalia felt a smile light her face. That had been a good day. It was odd to think that Annabeth was technically older than her now. The little girl who had burst out of the trash can with the hammer had grown up.

The most recent photo was of Nico, Percy, and herself, the three children of the Big Three. Nico had a very, very faint smile on his face, more of a satisfied smirk, to be honest. Thalia stood in the middle, having ruffled both boys' hair. They were standing in front of the newly completed Hades cabin. Nico had offered to raise a skeleton to help them take a picture though Thalia and Percy had immediately vetoed the idea. Somehow, Thalia felt that she would have a little more difficulty smiling as easily if a skeleton was taking her picture.

Good times. Thalia sighed as she dropped the photos into her backpack. Good times.

Suddenly, the door burst open, a fresh gust of wind blowing into the Zeus cabin. Startled, Thalia jumped up, her hand reaching towards her bracelet until she realized who it was.

The blonde stood there, her face pale and gray eyes tinged with red. Her usually tidy hair was messed up, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

"Thalia..." she began, before her words were replaced by racking sobs. The daughter of Zeus leaped up and ran towards the daughter of Athena. She'd never seen her friend look so broken...so...

"What's wrong?" Thalia asked urgently. "Annabeth, tell me!"

Annabeth fought away her tears, blinking at them, trying to clear her eyes. "Percy...he..."

"Did he break up with you?" Thalia's voice became dangerously suspicious. The room suddenly seemed to spark up, the tips of Thalia's hairs beginning to stand up.

"No...he..." Annabeth swallowed. "He..."

There was a clopping of hooves and Chiron entered. There was a grim look on his face, one that Thalia knew could only mean trouble. "Annabeth," he said quietly. "Let's go into the Big House to discuss this."

"No!" Annabeth shouted wildly. "Chiron, I can't."

The centaur placed a firm hand on her shoulder and finally, after what seemed like forever, she nodded meekly and walked with him.

"Thalia, please go get the head counselors. We need to have a talk."

Ever since Percy had saved Olympus, there were a great deal more demigods, cabins, and head counselors. The rec room was crowded with people, arguing and laughing. None of them seemed to be particularly informed about what exactly was happening and appeared to be in a fairly lighthearted mood. Thalia couldn't seem to recognize any of the head counselors except for Nico, who sat in the corner moodily (whether it was because he knew what had happened to Percy or because he was just being Nico, Thalia wasn't sure), Clarisse, who was polishing her third electric spear, and Annabeth, who stood next to Chiron numbly.

Chiron cleared his throat and most of the counselors quieted. The silence was interrupted by an abrupt snore from Clovis, the head counselor of the Morpheus cabin, which a few of the head counselors chuckled at. However, a well placed glare by Thalia shut them up quickly.

"I figured it was best to tell you before rumors got started," Chiron said quietly. "Unfortunately, there's been an accident that is out of our hands. All of you know Percy Jackson. This morning, he, Annabeth Chase, and Nico di Angelo were in New York doing a scouting mission for possible demigods when they were attacked. Percy chose to take on the Curse of Achilles last summer in order to save Olympus. By a stroke of luck, the monster managed to hit Percy's Achilles' spot."

Clarisse stood up, her spear clattering. "The punk died?" Her voice was filled with disbelief, as if she couldn't believe that Percy had the nerve to get himself killed.

"No," Chiron said. Clarisse sat back down onto the couch, murmuring something about Chiron being overly dramatic.

"No. Luckily, the hit was blunt and the impact spread out across a wide area. However, Percy has fallen into a deep coma and we're unsure when he will be able to come out of it."

"But...he will come out of it, right?" Katie Gardener asked.

Chiron hesitated. "I cannot say," he decided.

"So why isn't he here?" Travis Stoll questioned. "If he's injured and all, why do we need to know?" There was a murmur that went around the room. Thalia would've liked to slap Travis, but he did pose a good question. Demigods got injured all the time. What was so special about this one? Except for the fact that Percy had bathed in the Styx...

Chiron seemed to be struggling to answer and to Thalia's immense surprise, Annabeth spoke up. "He's not here because he's fallen into mortal custody. Chiron has tried to manipulate the Mist but something seems to be preventing him from doing so. Not to mention, people..." her voice cracked. "People don't necessarily heal the same way after they've taken on the Curse of Achilles. We don't know what's going to happen."

Thalia could tell that those words had sapped all of Annabeth's remaining strength from her and stood up, firmly placing a hand on her friend's shoulder and leading her away.

The two walked until they returned to the Cabins. Thalia first started leading Annabeth to the Athena cabin when Annabeth stopped.

"Please," she said shakily. "I don't want to see them."

Thalia nodded and instead, the two returned to the Zeus cabin. The cabin seemed different now. Empty.

"What happened?" Thalia asked as Annabeth sat down on a bed. "Please, Annabeth, I want to hear it from you."

Annabeth swallowed. "We were in New York with Nico, scouting for some new demigods that Grover had mentioned. They were supposed to take the bus every day and Grover was going to meet us at the bus station. Percy and I were talking when Nico, who looked like he'd been dozing, suddenly jerked his head up and told us to run. We were startled when the monster attacked...it came from behind us. We managed to hold it at bay for a while but Nico was caught by a surprise attack and my knife slipped. I was running to get it when Percy..." her voice faltered, before she resumed her story. "Percy was battling the monster when from behind, its tail, which had been invisible before that, whipped him in the back. It was horrible. His body went rigid as if going through shock before he collapsed. It was all I could do to prevent the monster from killing him and by the time it ran away, the mortal ambulance had taken him in." She choked back a sob.

Thalia put her arm around Annabeth. "Can you go see him? What's wrong with the Mist?" Chiron could always manipulate the Mist. There had to be something wrong.

Annabeth shook her head desperately. "I don't know," she whispered. "They're not letting anyone see him, except for his mother and that's only rarely. There's something wrong...we don't know what...Thalia, I can't do anything and I can't just sit here and wait. What if he never wakes up? What if I never see him again?"

"You will," Thalia said firmly. "Seaweed Brain is strong. He isn't going to just abandon us like that."

There was a long moment of silence and Thalia wondered if she had said the right thing.

"You're right," Annabeth said finally. "Alright." She leaned into Thalia and Thalia knew that Annabeth didn't believe the words she was saying. She was trying, but she didn't.

"Everything will be fine," Thalia soothed. "We'll find Percy. We'll find a way."

"Everything will be alright."

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was the sound of machines that woke him up. He groaned. It seemed like it would've made more sense if his head hurt, but no, it was his back. His back ached with such severe pain that he felt as if he was going to collapse.

The next thing he noticed were his surroundings. He was in a room, painted white and completely devoid of anything except for a bunch of large metal machines and a metal door. At least a dozen wires were connected to him in all different places. There was no one else in the room, just him. He was dressed in unfamiliar clothing, comfortable enough, but hospital clothing. White and white and white. He hated white at the moment.

What he really noticed was what wasn't around him. There was no nectar in his mouth, no ambrosia on the table, no Argus at the door, no Chiron in a wheelchair.

No Annabeth yelling at him for being in whatever condition he was in now.

He started to get up but pain raced through him and he briefly let himself fall back down. The bed he was on wasn't comfortable, not in the least. The machines worked steadily, calculating his heart rate, his brain waves, everything. It made him feel like he was being analyzed.

He struggled up again, this time forcing himself into a sitting position. He was not going to be toyed around with. Not this time.

The machine's beeps grew louder and an alarm flared. He panicked. He didn't belong here, every fiber of him told him that. He ripped out some of the wires, the heart monitor making a loud and long beep like that in movies, the line going flat. His skin stung where it had been and he disengaged himself from the machines. He was almost done as a doctor, his face pale and his hair messy like he'd been asleep, rushed in.

"You're awake," he muttered, like he couldn't believe it. "My God, you're awake."

"Where am I?" his voice was panicked, raspy like he hadn't used it in forever. "Tell me where I am!"

"You're fine," the doctor soothed. "Look, we'll get you some help, you're completely fine..."

A wave of energy burst through him and an IV burst open, showering the doctor who yelped in surprise and slammed a button. The alarms wailed even louder than before. He tore a needle out of his skin, ignoring the pain and the blood that dripped on the floor as he stumbled off the bed and fell. The doctor, recovering from his surprise, stood up and began walking towards him, hands outstretched. He didn't fail to notice the piece of cloth in the man's hand...something told him it wasn't for him to wipe his nose on. "Now, son, listen to me and..."

He instinctively whipped out his pen and it expanded into a sword which he swung at the doctor. The man jumped a foot high, the cloth falling to the ground. He stood up shakily, ignoring the pain in his legs as he ran for the door. He burst out, face to face with a crowd of doctors and nurses.

"Holy...he really is awake," one gasped.

One woman in particular stood out to him. She carried a small purple purse which looked odd against her white coat. Her expression was narrowed as if she found the fact that he was awake absolutely detestable.

He ran the other way.

The doctors pursued, yelling at him, the woman leading them. She ran at an amazingly fast pace in high heels and he was gasping for breath by the time he found a stairwell. He raced up and opened a door to find himself in the sunlight.

It took several blinks for him to adjust to the sunlight. Where was he? He seemed to be on a roof of some sort. Below him was a street...but it wasn't the same sort of street that he remembered. There...

The door behind him burst open, but there was only the woman. She looked at him and gave a small smile. "Don't you think you've been naughty enough?"

A shiver crept up his back and he took a step back, Riptide out before him. She wasn't mortal. She couldn't be.

"There's nothing to be afraid of."

With that, he charged, slashing the air in front of him. The woman ducked with surprising agility. Daggers shot out of nowhere, one tearing a hole in his hospital outfit. He rolled as the woman flung a tiny bottle at him. It looked somewhat like lipstick, but he had a feeling inside that it was much, much worse than getting a facial.

"I've been waiting a long time," she smiled. "Long term jobs are always the hardest. The security here is tight, tighter than any normal mortal could possibly make it. But I managed to slip in. And you, my dear, no longer belong on this world."

"What are you talking about?" He felt his mouth move and someone say the words in his mind, but it didn't sound like his voice. Not in the least.

"You'll figure it out sooner or later," she smiled, whipping something else out of her purse. "I..."

The woman faltered, her expression turning to confusion. "No, but, I...!"

She grimaced, returning her hand to her pocket. "It's not your time yet, demigod. But I will see you, and soon."

She threw something to the ground and disappeared in a plume of purple smoke.

Something about the way she'd left had made him feel uneasy, like there was something giving her orders. He ran down the stairwell through a line of unconscious humans and onto the street.

He didn't recognize where he was. It was on some sort of street and the sign above the door he'd just exited read Allen Infirmary.

A car zoomed by, then three more. It took him a moment to realize what was wrong...they made no sound. Their wheels gleamed like they were perfectly brand new and they were fast. Fast and compact, fitting only two and the occasional four people. The cars were completely different and he even thought he saw a driver asleep at the wheel as the car drove itself.

What?

A man walked happily by him without even glancing his way. Two earplugs were in his ears but there was nothing connecting them, not a single thing. He hummed happily to a strange but catchy tune.

Where was he?

He ran up to the music man and tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, but what day is it?"

The man blinked. "It's Thursday of course!"

"What's the date?"

"June 27th. Why, got an important appointment you might've missed?" The man winked and was about to keep moving when he gripped the man's shoulder.

"What year?"

The man blinked. "Man, how bad of a hangover did you have last night?" He chuckled. "2087 of course! Now go get some rest! No girl's gonna want you hangin' round her like this!" He jogged off, humming his tune again.

The words hit him like a brick.

2087.

This couldn't be true. It couldn't...

He fell to the pavement, unable to accept the only truth possible. He looked at his arms and sleeves...the same. No wrinkles. He stood up and walked over to a shop window where he glanced at a reflection of himself.

This was 2087 and Percy Jackson had been in a coma for the past 75 years.

And somehow, he was exactly the same.