Luke still grappled with the trauma of the past. He wondered if the fact that he could still remember the mistakes of his past life were some kind of proof that he truly didn't belong in Elysium; nobody else could remember the terrible deeds that they had committed in life, so why could he? Sometimes, though, he did catch Annabeth staring off into a blank space, and he wondered about her. Her eyes glazed over and unfocused as her mind drifted elsewhere. Did she, like he, experience those glitches of paradise? But something stopped him from asking her. When her stormy grey eyes lost that clarity that all the children of Athena had, Luke knew that she was deep in thought and that she would be furious if anybody interrupted her.

It never took long for her to snap out of it though. Such contemplative moments would only last a few minutes, and after that, she would doubtlessly snap to consciousness. Her eyes would mist for a second as she tried to place her surroundings, and Luke had made it a habit to kiss her forehead when she came to, to remind her that she was in paradise with him. And then she'd shake away her confusion and smile up at him like everything was right with the world.

But everything wasn't.

Luke kept feeling that persistent tugging at him. Implacable but always there. Every time he looked at his reflection in the mirror, it whispered to him that all was not well. Not right. He still, after all these years, felt a need to prove himself, to prove that he truly belonged in Elysium. He could only meet the eye of his reflection for a few seconds before turning away. They weren't his eyes anymore, and that wasn't his face. The real him was scarred, with wounds both physical and mental, and Elysium had tried to sweep those scars away. He often traced a hand over the smooth skin where his scar had been. That was where the resent had started. All his life, Luke had wanted to be known as a hero and it was only in death -and after Percy's demands from the Olympians- that he had been blessed with that status: hero. For a second, Luke's mind hovered on the thought. Percy.

What had become of the boy? They'd shared a strange relationship. Luke had been a kind of mentor to the son of the sea god, but had betrayed him when his bitterness had curdled to an immeasurable hatred toward the immortals. In actuality, Luke had attempted to kill Percy several times. He wondered where the boy was... what he was doing. Demigods -and those around them- never lasted long. Everybody knew that. And Annabeth and Luke often dined with many of their other fellow Camp Half Blood residents from life, who had since died. Clarisse La Rue was slightly more palatable in death, as was a girl who was once nothing more than another annoying daughter of Aphrodite, Drew Tanaka. A countless number of other old friends also came over for barbecues and social events. Including Jason Grace, a Roman demigod that Luke had never known in life. But Percy had never appeared. Sometimes Luke would bring up the topic of Annabeth's boyfriend -or was he her ex-boyfriend now? It hurt him to think about, but he knew that when Percy died, the relationship that Annabeth and Luke shared would fade away into nothingness. But when he mentioned the demigod's name, the daughter of Athena never reacted. Her brow would furrow as if Luke was explaining some concept she had never heard. She would feign confusion? Surely she hadn't really forgotten Percy... Luke presumed that maybe it pained her to remember Percy but sometimes his mind chased a particular train of thought: what if Annabeth had forgotten Percy?

Strangely enough, Luke didn't feel any kind of course pleasure at the idea of that. Of course he wanted to remain with Annabeth forever but if she was only with him by default, because she had forgotten the boy who had save the world many times over, he didn't want that. These kind of thoughts often trailed into long mental arguments that decreed that surely he was worthy of Elysium if he was being so noble and selfless in putting Annabeth's happiness before his own. But today, he focussed. Percy. Already the name was stating to lose its meaning, starting to fade as it always did. It was disconcerting the way that the name seemed to disappear from the tip of his tongue. It was that same feeling that occurred when Luke tried to bring up painful memories of the past, such as when Kronos had taken his boy over.

With a jolt, Luke sat up. He had been lounging in an Adirondack chair in the sunlight while Annabeth was sprawled on the sandstone floor nearby. She was wearing nothing but a white romper as she lay on her front, pages and pages of architectural drawings and concepts sprawled around her. The late afternoon sunlight illuminated her hair gold as she looked up at Luke's sudden movement. If they were still on Earth, Luke might've been concerned that her sketches would be swept into the pool beside them by a sudden gust of wind. But things like that didn't happen in paradise. Nothing that could be considered painful ever happened here -except to Luke, it seemed that he was flawed.

"Are you all alright?" Annabeth studied Luke and the boy debated over what to say. He had an odd thought. Could people lie in Elysium? He didn't know; he'd never tried. But surely a lie was okay if you weren't even sure it was a lie?

"Of course."

He flashed her a smile and she smiled back before returning to her work. Luke let his gaze remain on the girl for a little longer, pondering his previous startling thoughts, his epiphany. When Luke, and Ananbeth, had wondered about Thalia and Grover -friends who were both still alive on Earth- in the past, their memories hadn't been suppressed. So why were the memories of Percy being hidden away? Luke's mind drifted absentmindedly and he had to force himself to concentrate. Percy! He screamed the name in his brain.

"Hey, could I have some paper, please? And a pen too."

Annabeth handed him the supplies without looking up, and Luke wrote out the word in capital letters on the page. Luke had nearly destroyed the world; surely he owed it to the boy who saved it, to find out his fate. Every time he caught his mind wandering, he forced his eyes to focus on the age before him and try to imagine what the son of Poseidon had looked like.

His mind ticked over, like rusted gears that hadn't been used in an eternity; perhaps his mind hadn't been worked so intensely for a millennia. He shook his head. Focus! The curling tendrils of Elysium tried to sweep over him: obviously he was getting close to a thought, be it painful or not, it was certainly something that paradise didn't want him to know. But Luke had stood up to Kronos, he had held up the world, he could push back against the oppressive powers of death.

It made sense that demigods died young. They were sought after by monsters and mythical beasts- they rarely lasted long in the real world. Jason Grace was a prime example of that. When they were first acquainting, Jason had been very modest about his achievements in life, but later that night as they were getting undressed and ready for bed, Annabeth had told Luke all about the brilliant Jason Grace. A son of Jupiter... Thalia's brother. The memory unfurled something within him and Luke latched onto it, trying to replay the event in his mind.

Annabeth naked, save for the white silk slip she sometimes wore to bed. She had been weaving her hands through her hair, unravelling the tightly coiled braid it had been in during the day. Annabeth had explained that Jason and 'some Greek demigod' had swapped places at Camp Half Blood and Camp Jupiter. Luke had conversed with Jason that very night and had learned that it had been Percy who the roman gosling had swapped placed with, but it seemed that Annabeth's mind had glossed over that fact. Luke had confronted Jason later that week, casually inquiring after some of his demigod friends who still remained on the Earth. When Luke had mentioned Percy, Jason had seemed confused for a second. Luke concentrated hard. This was important. He could feel it. Jason Grace had said, verbatim,

'I haven't seen him yet. Where have you been hiding him?'

And then he had laughed. Luke had repeated the question and when Jason replied he seemed confused.

'Percy? Like the Perseus who defeated Medusa? I don't know him.'

He had never mentioned Percy again. Luke frowned. He had reached some kind of conclusion to those enigmatic thoughts that had plagued him for so long: it seemed that only Luke Castellan could remember Percy Jackson.

Luke remembered a time when Percy was still new at Camp Half Blood. He'd recounted his encounter with one of Hades' furies. He'd called her 'Mrs Dodds'. After the so-called 'museum incident', nobody had remembered their old pre-algebra teacher. He had gone around yoyo-ing between grilling his classmates and subtly mentioning the teacher in conversation to try to catch people out but nobody had remembered. Nobody except Grover. Grover! He would remember Percy surely? This time Luke fell out of his chair. The ground stung his legs for a few seconds before the pain washed away. Luke stared up at the bright sunshine before Annabeth's face came into view.

"Luke? Are you sure you're okay?" He rolled over and put his hands on Annabeth's arms. The graze on his knees was already disappearing, the droplets of blood fading in the bright sunlight.

"With you beside me, I'm always okay. More than okay. Brilliant." He kissed her cheek abruptly and stood up. "I've gotta go do something really important. I'll be back soon."

Annabeth raised her eyebrows at her boyfriend as he darted off.

"We're dead, Luke. We don't need to save the world anymore."

Her eyes fell upon the slightly crumpled piece of paper that had been caught up in an draught as Luke ran off. Her eyes alighted on the word for a second. Percy. Per-cy. She said the name, enjoying its taste on her lips. And then it fell into the pool, dissolving into a million indiscernible shreds.

Forgotten.