A/N: I should really take a break from watching too many movies with moral inclusions. I should resort to watching chick flick nonsense more instead – it'll make me feel less down, I guess – but still, I wouldn't be making this tribute without those sad, bitter, thought-provoking little movies about wars and stuff. And I feel like it was only yesterday since I got a small glimpse of the World Trade Center buildings in Home Alone 2, standing mightily against the strong winds.

This little fic doesn't have a resolution, or a beginning to start and end with, so it would be pretty much underwhelming and certainly not my best. I don't think this will be the last time I'll post a sad fic but I'm planning to lessen the times I have to go blah and write an ultimo depressing story and venture to humor someday. And yeah, I'm not particularly aiming for you guys to go sad all over again, but if I somehow succeeded in tugging your heartstrings, well, just press the review button and let me know.

Dedicated to:

All those who have experienced their fair share of losses, not only in the eventful 9/11, and to all those who mirror my deepest desire that is to have the happy family you've always dreamed of.


Percy Jackson and The Olympians

Title: How A Heart Holds On

Summary: September 11, 2011. One decade. Percy visits the family he has long ago lost. He's on the verge of healing, but never forgetting. Tribute to the victims of the 9/11 attack. Percy-centric. Light PercyxAnnabeth. Implied PoseidonxSally.

Song Prompt: Superman by Five for Fighting


~0~

There's only hate, there's only tears, there's only pain. There is no love here. Tell me, what will you do?

~ Simple Plan ("No Love")

~0~

"Percy. Percy, it's them," she called to him, shouting a few rows from a huge obelisk a yard away from the willow tree.

Heart overcome with excitement, grief and sallow apprehension, Percy Jackson prodded his feet against the sloppy grass. His sneakers met with the crisp, gold autumn leaves that strayed, lying on the curved path he took.

He felt his heart leap up to his throat as he first saw Annabeth's sad and worried look, then turned to the grayish-white marble stone pressed on the ground. He then felt it beat and press down on him forcefully, cuttingly across his chest – it made him do a slightly audible gasp. Percy knelt down and traced the smooth markings on the stone, reading them before closing his eyes.

Poseidon Jackson

February 27, 1969 – September 11, 2001

Loving father, brother, son, husband, and friend

Sally Jackson

April 6, 1971 – September 11, 2001

Loving mother, daughter, wife, and friend

If vice has heroes conquered,

Then so shall Death be

"Heroes," Percy whispered. He faintly saw his breath drawn out in the air like wisps. He laid a small basket full of tulips and daisies and chrysanthemums – the best kind – next to the marble. The soft, velvety grass slunk back and whimpered at the basket's weight.

Percy stood up, slightly disgruntled. He couldn't believe he finally plucked up the courage to visit for nearly six years of avoiding the graveyard, his family. His dead family –

Dead, Percy thought sadly. Dead, and left him alone at five with nothing but petty childhood dreams –

He shook his head. No. They didn't abandon him. More like the rest of the world did, and Percy blindly groped for anything at all in the vast darkness for the next ten years that came.

It's been a decade. Percy stood before his parents a fifteen-year-old, someone who looked like he aged far too quickly for a short amount of time.

"Do you miss them?" His blonde companion blurted out before realizing how it may have sounded too blunt and insensitive. She felt a little relieved when Percy answered a matter-of-factly.

"I don't know," he shrugged a little. "I don't remember about them that much. I was five when they were…"

"Oh."

He then tried to remember a moment where he cried and wailed endlessly all night about losing his parents over the tragic 9/11 crash in New York City, and, truth be told, he couldn't. Maybe he was far too young to remember attending the black-and-white funeral of Poseidon and Sally Jackson, thinking and dreading the moment that he had had to be handed over to Gabe, his uncle. It was hard, he told himself, to mourn someone he had not much memory of.

Percy Jackson never knew who his parents were at all.

And that thought struck a low cord and pained him. It has always been different for him; whenever his elementary school classmates said that one of their relatives and loved ones died, he had to fight the urge to kick something, to hit someone. What he felt was different. Nobody understood him.

But at least someone always tried. "They're happy up there," Annabeth told him finally. "I can feel it."

"Yeah. Me too," he said. Percy's stare was fixated on the stone. Can they feel it, too? Can they feel their only son watching them buried beneath gobbles of mound and dirt, hoping one vain hope that he could see them again and have a definite memory etched on his mind? Can they feel Percy, and the love and admiration he's always felt for them? Can they feel him wishing and wanting to be with them now?

And hot tears started flowing from his cheek, rolling down collectively as he shuddered. His lips were set in a grim line as he resisted the urge to wipe it off with his sleeve or a hanky – what's the use, anyway? Instead, he let every drop fall freely. It hit the ground, and, childishly, Percy wanted those wet tears to soak right through the ground and reach his parents' empty caskets.

Tear after tear dropped. He closed his sea green eyes to stop himself from bursting out like a fountain. With everything that he held back all this years…

Annabeth grasped his hand and gave it a small squeeze.

Percy did not dare look at her. His breath came short and he was heaving. He steadied himself, entertaining the thought that he was so much stronger than that, so much stronger. Slowly, he squeezed her hand back, and then let go.

He couldn't stand it anymore. Knowing that he'd bawl like the five-year-old he once was, he said goodbye to his parents one last time and turned his heel to leave. They walked away past the other unblinking gravestones quietly. He took Annabeth's hand and ushered her first, realizing for the very first time, how happy and thankful he was to have her as his best friend.

He'd never be truly alone.

And Percy finally remembered the ghost of their smiles, shadowy and vague, but clearer and brighter than before.

It was then the rain started to fall again.

~Fin~