Your baby blues
So full of wonder
Your curly cues
Your contagious smile
And as I watch
You start to grow up
All I can do
is hold you tight
"Momma, look at me!" Her little Percy exclaimed, giggling as he stroked the sea cucumber. She gazed at him fondly as he talked animatedly to the employee, trying to gain as much information as he could about the sea dweller. He was in love with them, as she knew he would be. He was partly one as well; it was only natural.
"You know, these guys can actually bring seven years of good luck." The employee whispered covertly, as if about to tell him some huge secret.
Percy took it hook, line, and sinker.
His vibrant sea green eyes went wide with wonder, thinking about how good life could be with good luck. Momma could make like, a gazillion blue chocolate chip cookies on accident! he thought excitedly.
His wavy hair, almost bordering on curly, bounced up and down along with him, his excitement trying to escape through the simple action.
"How do they do that!?" His smile was so contagious the employee dropped the serious façade and chuckled.
"You have to kiss it." It took him a moment to digest what he said but once he did, his face twisted in disgust.
"Eww! Kissing is yucky!"
"But Percy," he looked to the side to see his momma kneeling next to him. "You give me kisses all the time." She smiled at his flushed face.
"Yah, but that's different!"
"How so?" she asked.
"Well, cause you're my momma, so it's not yucky to kiss you." he seemed so satisfied at his five year old logic that she couldn't help but laugh.
"Well," she reasoned. "How about I kiss it first to make sure it's not too yucky, huh?"
He considered it for a minute before nodding.
She gave it a quick peck then retreated, hoping she successfully kept her face from giving away anything. Those things were slimy!
Percy gave her a look before he repeated what his mother had done, though not as successful in covering his disgusted face.
"Ewwy! It was still yucky!"
Knowing clouds will rage in
Storms will race in
But you will be safe in my arms
Rains will pour down
Waves will crash around
But you will be safe in my arms
Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. Two feet in front of the car wasn't even visible through the never-ending onslaught of rain. The best part? A monster out of a fairytale was chasing them.
She never found herself so scared.
Not for herself, but for her son. Her precious little ray of sunshine that should not have been a part of this world; a world full of monsters out for your blood and gods ready to make your life a living Tartarus. It wasn't fair.
But she had been selfish. Wishing for just a little bit more time. A little bit more time to be with him, see him, talk to him, know he's alive.
So she was paying the price: as their car was sent crashing and as her and her son were lugging a satyr up an ongoing hill with a angry monster at their heals.
And as her son looked at her with scaredscaredscared dark sea green eyes(when had they gotten so dark? Nononono, they're brightbrightbright!) and told her with such a weary voice she literally stumbled.
"Guess our seven years of good luck have run out, huh Mom?"
She was paying the price.
Story books are full of fairy tales
Of kings and queens and the bluest skies
My heart is torn just in knowing
You'll someday see the truth from lies
"But, mom," Percy whined, pouting up at her. "I'm not even tired!" Now they both know that was a lie; he had been yawning and rubbing his eyes since eight and it was now nearing nine.
But she couldn't help falling for those expressive orbs and adorable pout, so she decided compromising was her safest bet.
"All right Percy, how about this," she picked him up and settled him on his bed, bending down to be more at his level. "I'll tell you a story if you climb under the covers and rest your head."
Now that caught Percy's attention. Story-time had always been his favorite; his mother weaving a tale so entrancing even he, the poster boy of ADHD, could sit and listen to for hours. But they hadn't had one in a long, long time.
Smelly Gabe just seemed to suck all the things he loved away.
But, he wasn't here right now, and goodness... a story...
He gave a long sigh- seemingly almost impossible for one so small- and crawled under his sheets.
Sally gave him an affectionate smile and pulled the sheets up a little higher before settling down on the edge of the mattress.
So then she composed a magnificent tale of a valiant knight and his loyal companions- full of terrible monsters and powerful wizards and treacherous quests. And at the end there was a long-suffering battle of Good vs. Evil but, like all the fairy tales go, there was a sweet, glorious victory for the knight and his friends and everything was perfect- there was the bluest of blue skies and the most vibrant of oceans that they set sailed on- that of the knight and his allies off again for another adventure.
By the end, Percy was snoozing soundly, cuddled against her side when she had lain down beside him. She looked at him lovingly as she smoothed a piece of hair out of his face, content to just simply lie there with him.
Because who knew how much time she had left to do this?
When the clouds will rage in
Storms will race in
But you will be safe in my arms
Rains will pour down
Waves will crash around
But you will be safe in my arms
She's always loved a good mystery book.
She loves the twist and turns they take, guiding you down into a different hallway but with a secret passageway along the way that guides you down a completely unexpected path till pretty soon you're back at square one and the only possible chance you have at getting out is going the opposite way you started.
She fell in love with the first one she read, and many more after, but this mystery book her son's life has started to unwind itself into she absolutely loathes.
She hates not knowing where he is. She hates not knowing if he's alright and relatively safe. She hates not knowing if he has someone to rely on or not. And, Oh, how she absolutely hates that snooty, good-for-nothing queen of the gods.
What gave her the right to take her precious ray of sunshine away from her? From the life he was starting to establish for himself? One not so dark and bleak and absolutely hopeless as it had seemed from the beginning?
She had none. Not one iota.
Screw Hera and her plan- the camps, the gods, Gaea, giants- Screw them all. Compared to her son, she couldn't care any less about them.
Hadn't he done enough for them? Was one war not enough? Apparently not. Because the gods are never satisfied with just enough. They always want more more more.
"Well," she muses, staring at her ceiling and imagining those good-nothing-gods in their precious throne room. "you want more? Then it's a good thing you picked my son because he'll give you more than you can possibly handle."
She feels triumphant at the sound of thunder.
(check mate you pompous lightning rod)
(and your vile cow of a wife too)
Castles – they might crumble
Dreams may not come true
But you are never all alone
'Cause I will always,
Always love you
Hey I,
Hey I,
She waits.
And waits,
and waits,
and waits.
It's really all she can do.
She lives life mechanically, in a constant daze of numbness. She ignores the constant ache in her heart and tries not to notice her cookies going relatively untouched without her son snatching one every couple minutes; she tries not to notice how she seems to always make more pancakes than her and Paul can eat. She tries not to notice how empty the living room looks with no teenager sprawled on the couch; or how Paul looks just a little bit older without the boy he saw as a son keeping things alive.
(she can only wonder how old she looks then)
She just tries not to notice.
It's easier said than done, she decides, sitting on his still unmade bed(just the way he left it) clutching a picture from so long ago with a little Percy and a younger her. It seems like a dream from so long ago, the pictures fuzzy but the feelings clear.
She wants to go back, but she also doesn't. Because she wouldn't have met Paul and Percy wouldn't have met Annabeth. He wouldn't have met his friends and she wouldn't have accomplished her dreams of becoming a writer.
But then, they wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. Her baby boy wouldn't have to be chased by ugly monsters and hated by gods and Titans and see his friends die in bloodthirsty wars; he wouldn't have had to feel the agonizing betrayal of friends gone rogue and the nightmares that were more memories than imagination.
He wouldn't have to carry the crushing weight of the entire world on his shoulders.
One false move and he's done. He's been doing a good job so far, but she wonders when he'll finally give up. When everything comes toppling down on him and he suffocates in the rubble. Because she knows he won't officially give up in the tumble, but rather after. When he has time to gain his senses again but then looks to see the destruction and he'll finally decide it's just not worth it.
Something inside her tells her it's coming soon.
But she tries not to notice.
When the clouds will rage in
Storms will race in
But you will be safe in my arms
Rains will pour down
Waves will crash around
But you will be safe in my arms, in my arms
The knock on the door surprises her.
Paul isn't supposed to be back till next Thursday-off at a teachers convention- and her weekly book club meeting isn't until tomorrow.
There's a possibility of it being a monster, though her son's scent is most likely not there anymore.
(she cringes at the thought)
She takes a celestial bronze dagger out from the knife drawer anyways, a present from her son.
(the dagger burns in her grip)
She quietly tiptoes to the door, making sure to hold the weapon in the icepick grip her son had taught her
(she shakes her head to rid it of the memories)
Her hand doesn't shake when she puts it on the doorknob, nor when she turns it slowly. Not even when the door swings open and she's already bringing down the dagger. Nor when the mystery person blocks the incoming weapon and pulls it from her grip in a swift motion.
It shakes when she sees her missing son.
He's taller, she notices, taller than her by more than a head and she's not short. His shoulders are slumped with fatigue and his skin is much paler than she remembers. His hair is messy, like always, but it doesn't look like his usual 'get out of bed' messy. It looks more like he's been running his hands through it too many times and has almost tried to rip it out.
(she doesn't want to know why)
But it's his face that really catches her attention. It's not like his face has changed drastically- though, it is more angled and his jaw is just a little bit broader- No, rather the dark bags under his eyes, and-
Oh gods, his eyes.
They're dark- not his usual clear sea green. More like a forest at night with no moon to shine on it.
(What happened to my beautiful ocean?!)
They showed a bone-deep weariness, so deep it made her tired just looking at them, and there's anger and fear and horror shining bright in his eyes. It's like she's watching a horror film-
(her son's very life)-
but she can't hear the sound- just see the images.
He looks like a war-torn soldier
(The gods little soldier that's starting to loose it's efficiency. So send him into another war till he truly becomes a broken weapon and then throw him away)
He looks like a man that's seen too much
(Oh, just a little. Nothing too much, ya know? Just his slaughtered friends being torn to shreds by monsters and giants alike. No biggie. He'll be back by Tuesday with a grin plastered on his face, so fake they'll paste it onto Barbie)
He looks like he's been through hell
(Tartarus, actually, but yah, you've got the gist of it)
But it's her precious baby boy and he's never looked so beautiful.
She wants to hug him, but something tells her she should let him initiate it.
(she notices it this time)
(she waits)
He's just staring at her with those darkdarkdark eyes, absentmindedly twirling the dagger in his hands. She doesn't know what he's thinking, but it seems that he doesn't exactly know what he's thinking about either. His mouth moves, but no sound comes out. He struggling, she knows, and she wants to help so badly; just take him into her arms and keep him in them forever. Shield him from all the monsters and fight the gods till her last breath- till they no longer try to ruin him anymore.
But she can't. This last year has shown that she just can't. He's a man now. One that doesn't need his mother to kiss a sea cucumber to tell him if it's too icky or need a bedtime story filled with a false hope that you can always get your happy ending.
He doesn't need her.
(she quakes at the realization)
His arms are around her all of a sudden and she realizes she couldn't see him move because of the tears obscuring her vision. She hugs him back fiercely. Her grasp is needy and desperate, afraid she'll lose him if she lets go, but it's so full of love and motherly understanding that he just breaks.
He crumbles into her embrace, grip equally desperate and needy and so full of love. Tears are flowing freely and his sobs are silent, but that's what makes it all the more heartbreaking.
Because Percy just doesn't do silent. Not since his first breath.
"I'm so sorry, mom." He whimpers into her shoulder, so softly she can barely hear it. "So so sorry."
"Hush." she soothes, cradling the back of his head with her palm. Her eyes are still swimming with unshed tears, and they fall as he keeps on chanting 'Sorry', 'So so sorry'.
"Shh. Shh, it's alright, Percy. You have nothing to be sorry for, absolutely nothing." She stressed, gripping him tighter.
He shook his head and clutched her closer, wanting nothing more than to believe her, but... that wasn't so simple.
It never was.
She closed her eyes sadly, resigning to the fact that her consoling words couldn't reach him right now.
(If ever)
He suddenly felt the intense urge for normalcy-
(Wrong. He always has that urge)
-So he blurts out the only thing he can truly ever consider normal
"Can we have blue chocolate chip cookies? And hot chocolate?" He asks, lifting his head to look at her.
She gives a watery laugh at the so very Percy-like question, and she knows, no matter how much he's been through, her little boy was still in there. It'd be hard to get him out of this shell he was buried in, but she didn't care. She'd take all of eternity to make sure he was happy.
Because that's just what mothers do, isn't it?
"You betcha." She kisses his forehead. "And would you like a story with that?" she asks playfully, hoping he'll give her a little smile.
He doesn't disappoint.
(She calls her book club the next morning to tell them that she won't be able to attend tomorrows meeting because she had this unexplainable urge to go to the beach and look for sea cucumbers with her son.)
In My Arms~ Plumb
Because, come on? This song is perfect for Sally and Percy, and this needed to be done.
It just had to.
*sorry for any grammatical or spelling mistakes.