Hey guys!

So, because I have become a writing machine as of late and because inspiration strikes at random times, I have a new one-shot (which may actually turn into more; see AN below) for you! This sad-ish little idea just came to me today and I thought it would be a nice story. I'm sure there are similar fics out there, but I don't care, I'm posting it anyway!

Hope you like it. :)

Sally couldn't sleep.

Well, she could if she really wanted to. She definitely needed to, but she couldn't. She didn't want to.

She knew the second she closed her eyes, she would see his face again. The face of her son, Percy Jackson; who's bright eyes and smile never ceased to make her happy, whom she would do anything for, who was her whole world.

Percy, who had been missing now for six months.

It wasn't the dreams that were the problem. Not really. They, actually, were very good dreams most of the time: dreams of happier times, with her son beside her, with everything right in the world.

The problem was that the dreams always, inevitably, came to an end. The problem was that the real world wasn't quite so simple or as happy as her dreams of Percy were. The problem was when she woke up and was forced to face reality again. And that reality was this: her son was gone and she didn't know why or how or where he was. Or if he was even alive.

It had been six months and they still hadn't heard a thing. No one could find him. Percy had been gone before, but never for this long. Never even remotely close. This… this was far beyond anything he'd ever pulled before. She knew, realistically, what that probably meant, that the most likely scenario was that his luck had finally run out and she would never see him again. Otherwise, he would have found a way to contact her by now.

But that was too painful a thought to entertain for long. She couldn't. Because a world without Percy Jackson, without her son, was a terribly cold, dark, awful place. She couldn't believe he was just gone, and without proof, she could still hope. After all, Annabeth wasn't giving up; so Sally wasn't either.

Still, waking up to find that her son's laughter had just been a dream over and over again was too painful to bear. Not when that small, hopeless part of her, the only part that was truly honest with herself, told her he was gone. Facing the day like that, when the reality of the situation came crashing down on her again and again every time she woke up, each time it seemed more and more unbearable.

So here she was, her tired eyes stinging as she stared up at the ceiling of her and Paul's bedroom in the darkness, her will battling against her body, as it did every night lately, over whether she dared shut them. Beside her, Paul slept, one arm draped comfortingly, protectively, around her. For that, at least, she was grateful. She had no control over her son's situation but at least one of them was able to get some necessary rest. Paul, after all, was the one with the full time job.

Slowly, carful not to disrupt her husband's slumber, she rolled so she lay on her side, facing him. She studied Paul's face, all contrasts and shadows in the darkness: the gentle curve of his cheekbones, the thin layer of stubble lining his jaw, the dark spots under his eyes, visible even in the dimness, that betrayed the truth: she wasn't the only one losing sleep over Percy's disappearance.

And even now, when everything seemed miserable, she thanked the gods for him. Paul was the only bright spot in the darkness that had been the past few months, and she couldn't have been more grateful for him.

Her eyes wandered then, focusing on the digital display of the alarm clock atop the nightstand on the other side of their bed. It read: 12:26. She sighed inwardly. They'd only been in bed for two hours. Nights never felt longer than they did when she spent them fighting sleep, lost in sad thoughts. But a part of her was grateful too. Nighttime was the only time she could truly allow herself to fall apart-that and occasionally during her bi-weekly get-togethers with Annabeth. She forced herself to go about life as normally as possible the rest of the time, if only to keep Paul from worrying more than she knew he already was.

Her thoughts had shifted toward Percy again, focusing on the little things about him that made her miss him the most: the way his eyes glinted when he was happy the same way his father's did, the one piece of his hair that just refused to stay in place, how he still blushed at even the slightest teasing mention of Annabeth, how his hands were almost constantly in motion-subconsciously tapping or fiddling with Riptide, his habit of apologizing for things that didn't require apologies.

The smile he reserved for her alone…

She was so wrapped up in thoughts of her son-thoughts that made her feel both better and worse simultaneously, that she didn't notice the phone ringing in the living room until it had almost completed its second ring. Even then, she made no effort to answer it. She was comfortable, lying in bed with her husband, and if she tried to move out from under his arm, she likely would have woken him up. It was also after midnight and she just wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone right now. They could leave a message if it was important. She'd call back in the morning, at a more reasonable hour.

She closed her eyes and listened absently as the phone rang two more times from the other room before the voicemail picked up and the message Paul had recorded played through. There was a slight pause after the beep, as if the caller had hesitated, before a voice spoke and Sally's eyes flew open wide, her heart constricting painfully, not completely sure she hadn't fallen asleep and was dreaming again as shock rendered her immobile. "Mom."

The wall separating their bedroom from the rest of the apartment muted the sound and the connection was poor, but she would recognize that voice anywhere. "Hey, I'm alive."

She unfroze then and untangled herself from Paul and the blankets with just enough care as to not dislocate his shoulder in the process, before she was up and sprinting through the dark toward their bedroom door as the voice, Percy's voice, continued from the answering machine, "Hera put me to sleep for a while and then she took my memory, and…"

She was vaguely aware of Paul's voice, calling groggily after her, "Sally?" but she was out of the room before she could answer.

"Anyway, I'm okay. I'm sorry. I'm on a quest.-"

Sally, in her haste, caught her foot on the threshold of the living room and just barely caught herself before she could fall on her face. Meanwhile, the voicemail continued, "I'll make it home. I promise. Love you."

"No, no!" She reached the side table, grasping blindly in the dark for the phone. Her hand closed around it and she brought it to her ear, pressing the answer button a millisecond after the message cut off. The line was dead.

For a second or two, all she could do was stare at the machine, gaping and breathing hard, trying to decide whether to cry or jump for joy. And then, her brain began working again and she hit the redial button just as the living room lights flicked on and Paul stepped into the room, squinting into the brightness. "Sally, what's going-"

She held up a hand to silence him, intently focused on the outgoing call as it connected and, after a quarter of a minute or so, started ringing. It rang again and again, and with each ring, her heart sank a little deeper as it became obvious that she'd missed her first, and possibly her only chance to finally speak to Percy after six months.

The line kept ringing, as there clearly was no voicemail machine hooked up to it, but it was obvious that he was not going to answer, and after what could have been a minute or an hour, she slowly lowered the phone from her ear and ended the call.

Paul, who had stood behind her, pajama-clad and bleary-eyed for the entirety of the attempt, spoke up again, "Sally…?"

Her only answer was to look at him and hit the play button on the machine. She stayed there, kneeling on the floor before it as the robotic voice of the device piped up: "Today at twelve twenty-nine AM." And then, Percy's message was playing again, and this time, Sally actually listened to the words as Paul's eyes widened at the sound of his stepson's voice.

"Hera put me to sleep for a while and then she took my memory…" She thought about what that could possibly mean. She had no clue, really, but was that why no one had been able to find him and why he hadn't contacted anyone? Because a goddess was involved? Because he'd been in some kind of sleep that lasted six months?

She heard him say, "Anyway, I'm okay. I'm sorry. I'm on a quest-" again and she heard how he'd cut his sentence off, as if realizing what he was saying and that she'd worry about him. The thought made her smile, and suddenly she was fighting tears.

I'm alive. The words rang in her head. I'm okay.

"He's alive," she whispered, half to herself. Paul still stood in the same place, looking beyond shocked, but her words seemed to shake him out of his daze a bit. He gave a sigh, which turned into something of a relieved laugh. He smiled and moved forward then, crouching to wrap her in his arms. "He's okay," she murmured through the tears that had begun falling as he pulled her close. "Oh my gods, he's alive."

"He's alive," Paul confirmed, resting his chin on her hair.

It was hard to say how long they sat there on the floor, hugging and smiling and crying, but when they did get up, Sally did so feeling significantly lighter, like she'd been carrying a boulder on her shoulders up until that point and only after it was gone did she realize just how heavy it had been.

Percy was still gone. She still didn't know where he was, what he was doing, or what condition he was doing it in, but he was alive; her little boy was alive, and after six months of being worried sick that he wasn't, that was more than enough for now.

I'll make it home. I promise.

He'd promised. He'd promised her he'd make it back, and she believed him. Because Percy, in all his years, had done a lot of things, but he had never broken a promise and Sally simply couldn't believe he would start now.

Because that was the thing about her son.

He always did make it home.

On the other side of the country, about as far away from home as he'd ever been, Percy Jackson ran to board a train due South, headed to a glacier, where a giant, a chained god, and a brutal fight awaited him and his friends.

And as he ran, the payphone he'd just used to call home began to ring; a returned call he would never get, from his mother, whom he hadn't seen or spoken to in half a year; the one and only chance he'd have to talk with her before embarking on a death quest that would determine the fate of the world.

A chance he didn't get the choice to take.

But he had made a promise. And quest or no quest, memory or no memory, evil Mother Earth rising or not, he wasn't about to break it.

Okay, so if you read the AN above, you'll see that I mentioned that this could potentially turn into more than just a one-shot. As in, it would likely become a three-shot (is that a thing?); the second chapter being Annabeth finding about about the voicemail. The third, I also have an idea for, but you'll just have to wait and see if the idea for more chapters actually comes to fruition to see what it is. So now, your part in this: LET ME KNOW! Would you like to see me add to it or do you think this works as a stand-alone piece? From a literary perspective, preferably.

Anyway, thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! :)