Percy stumbled into the glade, breathing hard. The gorgons were off his scent — at least for awhile. They'd better be after all the work he'd gone to, giving them the slip in Sun Valley and basically tricking a cab driver into taking the spare drachma offered him for an Ancient Greek collectible. The guy didn't deserve more, anyway. Percy had asked for a ride from Napa Valley to San Fransisco, and the cabbie groused the entire way until they hit a forest where he'd said this was as far as he could take him, road was unfamiliar, etc. etc. etc. The sign there said "Crockett Hills" but it figured that a stupid guy would lie through his teeth to get out of a job he didn't want, like driving a filthy and penniless kid some 35 miles south.

"Real gold?" The cabbie asked, his eyes glinting as he ran his fingers over the ridges and engravings.

"Real gold," Percy promised as he waited, his muscles tensing, ready to run for his life into the forest. The gorgons — where could they be? Anywhere. Come on, taxi dude!

"Well..." The cabbie chewed on his cigar, and Percy wrinkled his nose. He may have lost his memory, but one thing he knew: cigars were from at least a century past. Along with milkmen existing primarily in the Dino age,when my mum was little, a million years ago... his eyes saw spots and his head begin to reel. Where had that come from? What was that... what was that about his mum... curse Hera or Juno or whatever the heck she wanted to call herself. He was on to something. A maze. Brother? Something about goats. His mum... The cabbie was speaking. "What are you waiting for, sonny?"

The drachma had been accepted. Without waiting another second, Percy threw open the door, slammed it shut, and ran all the way into the forest. He didn't stop running, even though he realized with a heavy feeling that his mum would've wanted him to say "thank you." His mum... The thought was pretty darn strange. His mind was blank but the idea was oddly comforting, like a jacket that wasn't his but warmed him in all the right places.

He ran on and on. How he got in, he had no idea. He ran until his side was aching and his chest was heaving and his thighs were ready to turn into Jell-O. Once when Lupa had been training him, he'd joked about the Jell-O thighs. What possessed him? He had no idea. Lupa snarled and said, "Percy Jackson, if your thighs ever fail you at all when you are under me they'll make very delicious Jell-O. Now — again. The entire track. And I'll be watching for dessert." He was glad Lupa couldn't see him now, but what if the gorgons could? He stumbled on.

There came a time when he was ready to faint from running. His legs could hardly carry his weight. Finding an open glade he collapsed, breathing so hard he wondered if his lungs would burst. He lay there, catching his breath for what seemed like eternity, and then he felt it — a weird sense of safety. Something like an assurance that this place was gorgon-free and that he could stay the night. Sleep here? Out in the open? Well... things could be worse, he reasoned with a sigh.

Night was closing in rapidly. If his knowledge of daylight was anything to go by, the growing shadows spelled seven o' clock. Percy hoisted himself up a tree by its lowest branch and climbed higher and higher until he was pretty sure no one could see him. Reaching into his (stolen) backpack, he pulled out his (stolen) panda pillow pet and (stolen) half-eaten McDonald's happy meal lunch, compliments of unaware cab driver.

As he watched the sun set through the leaves, Percy munched on cold fries and thought about her again. Annabeth. Who on earth was she and why had she invaded his thoughts incessantly with only her name and no tangible memory of who she actually was? This had to be important. He knew that much. Lupa had said, after all, that he would see Annabeth again if he survived.

Which meant she must be important. Why else were the forces of the universe using her as bait?

He sighed, looking at his empty, oily, salt-dusted hands. Maybe, in another lifetime, he'd once held her hands with his own... hugged her close... counted the sparkles in her grey eyes which made him feel like a weirdo for doing something as sentimental as — wait, what? What had he just thought? Backtrack, backtrack. Hugs, hands, eyes... grey eyes. His head felt like it was about to explode.

Another piece to the unfinished puzzle. Another step closer to her.

Percy leaned back on the panda, his mind going at a hundred miles per hour. Grey eyes. Not the laughing kind but the serious kind. The kind that... Darn. The road had come to a dead end. With a groan he eased on the brakes, cutting the speed from a hundred to fifty to twenty to ten and finally to zero. He'd never find her, he moped. What made him even more down was that he was actually depressed over, well, a girl, and something sneaky told him that this was an all-new personal low. All this time he'd been confused, or maybe a little annoyed, but never depressed. Though somehow he didn't want to know that, even if it did provide another clue to who he was. Being told (because he chalked it up to an actual goddess leaving taunting clues around everywhere) that he'd slid down the self-esteem chart even more after his old life? Not fun.

He just wanted to know. To remember everything again. Was that so much to ask for, and what part did he have to play in this miserable war? Hints of war courtesy of Lupa, of course. Everything he'd wanted to know she wouldn't say. Everything he'd never want to hear of in a million years she'd never stopped yammering on and on about. Percy supposed he was acting like a little child or something (the kind that didn't stop yelling until he got what he wanted — though he didn't yell even he often wanted to); the kid who wasn't ever conscious of anything around him except what he needed to have. Well, he was sorry. He really was. He wished he could have a fair chance to be convinced of the cause, not forced under pain of being an amnesiac for life. Honestly, he knew he was a pretty dense guy. How he knew, he had no idea. Something about seaweed. Jokes made at the expense of his IQ level. He knew that he was dense, and that made him really focused because although he usually wasn't aware of what was going on outside his experience and knowledge, he knew what he knew like the back of his hand. And what he knew was that he was fiercely loyal. Lupa had hinted that Team Hera was his side, which made him so angry he didn't know what to do.

Well, besides planting a fist in Hera's godly face he had no idea what to do. Then with a start he realized how deep in his thoughts he'd been — the sun was nearly gone, and exhaustion was crashing in. In spite of himself he smiled faintly. He was sure he didn't think this much in his old life.

Percy brushed the salt off his hands and tried to get comfortable against the tree trunk, wondering why he'd run all the way into a forest without realizing the risk of being lost inside. Somehow he felt okay — like he'd run through forests many times before. He didn't know why, but it made him feel like he was on familiar ground. So many inexplicable things, so little time. But time for thinking was up and time for sleeping was now. He felt somewhat sure, anyway, that he'd find the answers...

He was asleep before he could finish the thought.