A/N: I'm probably gonna make more, depending on the feedback- so give me feedback! Good reviews are nice, flames are good too (roasted marshmellows mmmm).

I don't own Percy Jackson, as I am not Rick Riordan (that would be cool).

Rachel

She walks down the streets of Manhattan, back to her mansion, from a rally to save the planet. It is a process she repeats every day. And yet, she isn't into it anymore. Time just keeps passing her by. Of course, she won't admit to anyone, including herself, why.

The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost.

But she didn't think she would lose him. Or did she? That girl has her so confused, and in her times of doubt and sorrow, she blames her. That girl stole him. And yet, she lost him.

Friendship often ends in love; but love in friendship - never.

It's funny how that works. Unless, of course, you are in that unfortunate position of being the one whose relationship started and finished along this course.

The course of true love never did run smooth.

"That's an understatement," she's thinking as she makes her way to her art room. Why did she have to meet him in the first place? Him, with his eyes….and that smile….

A woman can forgive a man for the harm he does her...but she can never forgive him for the sacrifices he makes on her account.

But is that really true? Of course it is, because he didn't do her any harm, it was that girl, the one who brought her heart into a blender every time he and that girl looked at each other. But of course it was always going to be them. They were the ones who went off and risked their lives together. You don't do that without forming a special connection. And yet, she remembers the times she aided him. In retrospect, maybe she was just "a useful mortal." At least, that's how she feels at times.

Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence.

That's for sure. When she left the hill for the last time, they couldn't see how she felt. Although she left cracking jokes and smiling, she was shattering inside, shard by shard. But they were in their own little world, never noticing, never thinking about her, and how she felt, how it would be in her place.

The hardest thing to do is watch the one you love, love someone else.

As she drifts to sleep, nothing more need be said. Her life seems to be summed up in that simple statement, and yet her dreams drift back to him. Every night. Without fail. That day on the beach. This is the reason for the sign hanging on the ceiling, right above her bed, where she will see it every morning:

If you love something, let it go.

So she will, because no matter how much it hurts, she is always thinking of him, and letting go because if she tries for him, it will only hurt them both. So she endures the pain for him, so that he may be happy forever.

If you love something, let it go.