"Look, Mom! Jacques Pierce has another book! Can you buy me one?" twelve-year-old Chris asked his mother, Elise, a young –looking pretty lady in a blue blouse and a flowing skirt.

"Sure, dear. Go get a copy," Elise answered, a sweet smile playing on her lips.

"Yes!" cried Chris, hugging his mother briefly before grabbing one of the books displayed on the shelf. "Thanks Mom, you're the best!" He handed the book to Elise, who then went to the counter to pay.

Elise watched her son wander off to take a look at the other books. She knew that even if he took a liking to another book, he wouldn't ask her to buy it. Chris knew that he was only allowed one book at a time.

Chris returned, a big smile plastered on his face. He could barely contain his excitement from having yet another book to add to his collection.

"Did you know, Mom, Jacques had already written more than twenty-five books? I still haven't read all of them! Really! Good thing Jace has almost all the books that I don't have." Chris went on while he and his mother walked.

They were nearing the parking lot. Dannyl, Elise's loving husband and Chris's caring father, was waiting for them by the exit. Dannyl kissed Elise on the cheek and tousled Chris's hair.

"Dad!" Chris grumbled, while his parents just laughed at him.

Dannyl led them to their car, and they drove home. They made small talk in the car, or rather, Dannyl and Elise talked while Chris started reading his book.

Chris looked up at the sound of squealing tires, in time to see the fast-approaching sixteen-wheeler truck. He only had time to yell, "Dad!" then, "Mom!" before the truck hit their car.

Every tragic story he'd ever read entered his mind. Would this be the end of his story? Were those words going to be his last?

He thought of his mother and father. He thought of Jace, his best friend. He thought of a;; his family and friends. And then everything went black.

[J [J [J [J [J [J [J [J [J [J [J [J [J

Chris opened his eyes blearily. Someone was shaking him awake. He didn't even realize he'd fallen asleep, sitting hunched on a green bench in the park.

There was someone beside him, saying something. The young man next to him was asking him something.

"Sorry?" Chris apologized. "I didn't hear what you said."

"Why are you crying, child?" the man asked again, taking off his jacket.

"Wha–?" Chris felt his cheeks. They were wet with tears still spilling from his eyes. "I…" Only when the man draped his jacket over Chris did he realize that he was shivering. "T-thank you, sir."

The man just smiled at him and repeated his question.

"Because… I remembered…" Chris sniffed. "My mom…"

"Ah," the man said, and then patted Chris's back. The man pointed to the book on the bench, beside Chris. It was Chris's favorite book; it was the last book that his mother bought for him. "I see that you've already read my book."

"Your book?" Chris asked blankly.

"Yes, child," was the man's answer.

"You are Jacques Pierce?" Chris asked.

The man nodded. "I will tell you the story about the boy who lost his mother. You must've read it already, but I will tell it to you anyway.

"Perseus Jackson…"

Jacques Pierce finished his story. "And that is how young Percy coped with his mother's loss. What are you going to do now?"

"But that's just a myth!" Chris protested.

"Are you sure about that?" Jacques asked.

"Yes! That's just a myth!" Chris insisted.

"It was no myth. I am Perseus Jackson," Jacques told Chris. "Jacques Pierce is just a pen name. I am the first Perseus Jackson's descendant." Jacques-Perseus sighed. "Now it seems that Chiron's words, said so long ago to my namesake, had come true."

"What if I told you, Perseus Jackson, that someday people would call you a myth, just created to explain how little boys can get over losing their mothers?"

A/N: So let's pretend that in the future people still publish and buy books; that it's not just cool very hi-tech gadgets they use but also the low-tech books :))

And yeah of course I don't own PJO.