A/N: Sorry you had to wait so long on this one. School got a bit out of hand. I'll try to update on Thanksgiving Weekend!
Disclaimer: Percy Jackson & the Olympians and The Heroes of Olympus (c) Rick Riordan
Sally wept. She really did.
She sat on the worn stool with paint chipping away on her cotton socks. The linoleum floor hadn't been swept in weeks so bits of flour or cereal clung to her soles. Her kitchen was a bit of a wreck with random empty boxes littered about the counters, open bags of food around the place, or unwashed dishes on the table. Sally didn't have the heart to clean, not anymore. Occasionally on her good days she'd throw out a few pieces of trash but she mostly sat by the phone waiting for the golden call. Paul couldn't always keep her in check and help her complete even the most mundane tasks so she'd just have to live with this messy kitchen. She couldn't get her mind off of him anymore, which was horribly distracting to her writing. She couldn't write, clean, or even do anything without having her son returned to her.
Even after years of unjust treatments, she still managed to not blame the gods for putting her son in danger time after time. Now, they had wrecked her, Sally was trapped in the Underworld without the tiniest sliver of desire to escape if it meant her son would be safe. It's been five years since that incident and he was gone again.
It was terribly unfair but she insistently told herself she signed herself up for this suffering that wasn't really suffering until now. She willingly had a child with a god. Gods played but different rules and lacked the big consequences for their mistakes, Mistakes someone had to pay for, and that person was Sally. SHe only had herself to blame for the suffering of the poor soul she called her son.
Pain welled up inside of her, she was a mess. So broken, Sally couldn't even think his name without sobbing. Then again what's another sob in a swarm of thousands? Each tear was a drop of water in the ocean of emotional pain leaking into the dam of her breaking heart.
In the past seven months Sally kept hurting herself trying to pick up the shattered pieces of her life. In the first month she was merely mildly worried. She knew being a demigod was dangerous so she merely assumed that Percy had snuck off and accidentally gotten into some trouble. Then she stopped kidding herself. Something was obviously wrong and pretending it wasn't there wasn't going to solve the troubling dilemma. After a month and a half, Sally phoned the police. She wasn't going to sit around and do nothing while her son was missing. As much as she trusted Camp Half-Blood, she needed more people looking. More people searching and scouring all over . . . everywhere. WIth the meager money they had, Sally and Paul set out a reward for whoever could find their son. No such luck. Calls kept coming in claiming they knew of the whereabouts of the elusive teenager, but none of them completely fit the description. The police search was fruitless. Nothing in three months.
Then an odd mix of empty nest syndrome and high anxiety set in and stayed there. Paul attempted to return to work, but he couldn't stand to see Sally in so much pain alone. Paul worked at home half of the time working on paperwork for his job, the other half working on the search or consoling Sally. She knew he was trying his best, but it wasn't helping much. Eventually Sally became distant from Paul, refusing his comfort. After four months, she let the sadness in. All the memories of him she let in so she could bask in the happier times. She wanted to remember everything about him so it was as if her was still here. As if she were looking through the pages some album, Sally flipped through her own memories.
Just as Sally Jackson ended the worst of the repetitive cycling session of self loathing, crying, emptiness, anger, the squeaky door of the apartment sounded. Most likely Paul. Sally knew. Besides her son, Paul was the only person sally was aware of possessing a key to the apartment. Squeaky footsteps glided their way from the from the entrance to the living room which were then cushioned by the carpet. The footsteps were getting closer to the kitchen and Sally braced herself. Paul had always confronted Sally in the kitchen where there was no other way out or possible excuse to escape since Sally completed most of her work in the kitchen. Her shoulders tensed just as the gentle tap of his hands contacted her jacket. The feeling still lingered after the brush of his fingers left her shoulder.
"Paul, if you could respect me des-sires, I wish t-to be left," She paused. "Alone." The word felt bitter in her mouth. Sally ever really felt alone. It sounded romantic but the real reason she never felt alone was her nagging feelings demanding all her attention, not because Paul was always there for her. Which he was.
Paul replied to her request but not coming from a foot from her, but from farther away. "What are you talking about? I'm in the bedroom." Sally could still feel the presence of another person next to her. She couldn't completely compute what was happening, except with one scenario in mind. Unfortunately, doubted it. She didn't want to have her hopes dashed once more. She couldn't expect miracles to happen, so she only wished for simple things. Although, nothing else would really explain anything except . . .
"Percy."