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Sally was used to not hearing from her son for long stretches of time. Not that it didn't feel like a pit growing larger and larger as the days stretched out in front of her, not hearing from him, not knowing if he was okay. Walking into the apartment and hoping there was a message left on the machine, or an Iris message before she went to sleep. She trusts Percy and knows he will make good and just decisions. It's everyone, everything else she doesn't trust when it comes to the safety of her son.
They were all each other had for such a long time. Of course, there was Gabe, but he was there as a necessity, not a comfort. It was her and her boy, her Perseus. But her time with him was cut far too short, as he was flung into the dangerous world of a demigod. She missed them cuddling on the couch, eating blue jellybeans she had gotten from Sweet on America, watching old action movies and his eyes, large and sea-glass green, full of wonder at a world that seemed so far removed from his own, then. She would hold his hand, thumb rubbing his knuckles, and try and send the intrusive thoughts away, the thoughts about what horrible fate could befall him as the child of the Big Three, especially one born out of the oath. Percy would look up at her, his big eyes sparkling, and promise to do whatever he needed to do in his life to keep his mom safe.
She hated sending him away, to school after school which cost too much and didn't understand her boy, but she did it for his safety, receiving the brunt of the horrors that Gabe decided to bestow upon her. All to keep Percy safe.
He always found time to speak to her, always. When he was in the midst of battling Kronos, he made sure to IM her, even quickly, to tell her he was okay and that he loved her. Lighting up the top of the Empire State Building to let her know he had survived. It made her heart burn, the fact that he was so young but had so much influence, so much at stake.
But now, it had been nearly two weeks, and she hadn't heard anything. Christmas has come and gone, his presents were left unopened under the tree. Every morning she woke up, anxiety weighing heavily on her shoulder from the moment she was conscious to the moment it escaped her. Paul tried his hardest, comforted her, telling her,
“He’s probably just relaxing, he just saved the world, sweetheart.”
But there was a gnawing in her soul that told her her baby needed help, help that she couldn't give him.
Then, Annabeth visited. And she knew.
There was a soft knock on the door. Sally got up, puzzled at the unknown guest, and unlocked the latch. In front of her was the golden hair of Annabeth Chase, a crease of worry in the middle of her forehead, her eyes clear but pained. A look someone so young should not be wearing.
“Annabeth, what a lovely surprise! Is Percy with you?” Sally opened the door widely for Annabeth, looking in the hallway for the raven head of her only son.
Annabeth cleared her throat, wrung her hands and sat down on the couch.
The silence was suffocating.
“Mrs. Jackson, Sally , I-”
Sally rushed over to Annabeth, grabbing her sweaty hands and enveloping them in her own.
“What’s wrong?”
Annabeth looked up at Sally through damp lashes, before whispering,
“He’s gone. ”
The two women looked at each other for a long time, no one saying anything, but connected through their conjoined hands and their love of Percy Jackson.
Sally couldn't focus on anything except the thundering in her ears and the nausea rolling over her, getting worse every second that Annabeth didn't speak.
“I woke up one day and he was gone, he just, vanished . He left everything in his cabin, the only thing that’s missing is Riptide. I tried to Iris message him, but there was no use. I have no idea where he is.”
Her voice shook, tears hitting their still clasped hands.
“I promise you I’ll find him. I have a few leads, a few demigods that I feel know something , but I’ll find him, I swear on the Styx.”
Her voice was stronger than before, her grip on Sally’s hands tightening as she made her vow.
She still couldn't speak. She didn't know what to say, her whole world crumbling around her. She smiled watery at Annabeth, before hugging her tightly, still not saying anything to the girl whose love of Percy rivalled her own.
Annabeth began to leave, before turning and asking,
“Will you be okay?”
She couldn't say anything other than a small, curt nod.
The door began to close, Annabeth’s watery eyes meeting her own.
“When you find him, tell him I love him.” Her voice sounded small, childish in her own mouth, but Annabeth nodded, eyes closed for a moment before departing from the Jackson apartment.
Months past. Annabeth visited as much as she could, filling her in on details of her life, as well as her search for Percy. Her eyes aged beyond her 16 years. Sometimes they just sat in silence, relishing in each other's company. Nico would visit too, not saying much, however, his presence warmed her soul, knowing that so many people were out there, searching the worlds for Percy.
The sides of her life were tinged a lifeless greige, the colours and bustle of New York muted to her senses. Although, her heart still beat, often erratically, longing for her baby to come home. Paul was a lifeboat to her, always there with a grounding hand on her back or a whispered declaration of love. Her heart melted when she was around him. Her mind often drifted to what her life would have been like if she had never met the Sea God, and instead, met a younger, grey-hair-free Paul Blofis and he was Percy’s father instead of Poseidon. She would always chase that thought away, however it persisted, sitting in the deep recesses of her brain, coming to the surface when she was the most vulnerable.
She is not an angry woman, however, on some cool, moonless nights, she thinks where is Poseidon? Why has he not come to her, like he has so many times before, and declared his pledge to find their boy? Her rational brain knows the gods have gone silent, Annabeth told her so, but they had never stopped him from breaking oaths before, Percy is proof. She sent burnt offering after burnt offering, praying, begging, pleading with her son’s father to help Annabeth find him. But her prayers are left unanswered, and her soul sinks deeper and deeper into her abdomen.
Life passes by sluggishly. All sympathy and pity that people felt for her slowly disappeared, and she was left to continue on like Percy was just living at camp and not somewhere unknown. Her sleep schedule becomes erratic, choosing 3AM as her bedtime most nights, sitting in the living room, sipping cup of tea after cup of tea, too agitated to sleep. The more time that passed, the less she felt she would ever see her boy again. Her memories began to fade too, with Paul walking into the lounge room one humid Spring night to her wrapping her hands around her abdomen, tears steadily dripping down her face and splashing onto the crocheted blanket over her legs.
Paul rushed over to her, one hand gripping her cheek and the other holding her hand, eyes pleading.
“What happened?”
Her response came out a hoarse whisper.
“I'm starting to forget his face.”
She crumples, and Paul catches her, holding her together when she cannot. She sobs and screams and cries, babbling about her memories of her baby fading, his eyes not quite green enough, his face blurring until any discernible feature has vanished from her mind.
How can a mother forget the face of her child? How can they forget the way their voice sounds, or where their freckles smatter on their cheeks? What kind of mother sends their child away to potentially die and just continue living, knowing that any day, the baby could not return home, and they have to live out the rest of their days with a hole that they left? Was she a bad mother? Should she have fought harder to stop him from risking his life every day since he was 12 years old?
These thoughts spilled out of her mouth with hysterical speed, Paul having to talk her off the ledge for a full hour before she was so drained she just collapsed into oblivion.
The heat of the summer started well before its welcome date. The days were sweltering, the nights muggy and moist. She stays up, writing her book, glasses perched on her nose and she furiously types out her next (hopefully) bestseller. He mind quietens, her grief still as raw as her conversation with Annabeth, but she finally understands that Annabeth will do anything within her power to help find Percy. Same with her friends, new and old.
She wakes up, the sun high in the sky, heat reflecting off the tall steel buildings. Paul suggests they take a day in the city, “pretend were like tourists, see the sights we are so used to!”
She smiled, kissed him in agreement, and got dressed for the day.
They arrived back at the apartment, with Sally feeling more weightless than she had in months. She thanks the gods that Paul Blofis made his way into her life, not knowing how she could have survived the past six months without him by her side.
They watched a movie, a fan blowing cool air onto their hot bodies, before going to bed.
She rises early, the cool air of the night still present in the air. She moves Paul’s arm off her waist before she moves into the kitchen, deciding on a cold glass of water. Her hands move over the cool texture of the granite countertop before the flickering of the answering machine light catches her attention. She pressed the buttons, before grabbing a glass and the pitcher from the fridge, pouring her glass as the message crackled.
“Mom, hey, I'm alive.”
The glass tumbles to the ground before shattering, shards of glass and water spread across the linoleum floor, breaking through the serine silence.
“Hera put me to sleep for a while, and then took my memory and…” Percy paused, his voice getting caught.
“Anyway, I'm okay. I'm sorry, I'm on a quest.” He pauses.
“I’ll make it home. I promise. I love you.”
The line went dead, the machine beeping. Her hand flew to her mouth, tears already making their way down her face.
He was okay. He was alive and okay and -
Paul runs out, hair a mess, with a slipper on his left foot and none on his right.
“Sally, are you okay?” His voice was frantic.
Sally looks up to him and smiles, tears still in her eyes.
“He’s alive. My baby is okay.”
Paul runs to her, careful to avoid any pieces of glass, and envelops her in a hug, hoisting her body in the air and spinning her around. She laughs, the first time she has done so without feeling guilty in almost half a year. She is certain she can see some tears bordering Paul’s eyes as well.
It took months for her to see Percy again, but the look on his face, the tears in his eyes and the way he gripped his mother like he was a boy again, reminded Sally of all the sacrifices she had made for him, and how she would make the same choices time and time again if it meant that this version of Percy Jackson got to be her son.