Sally Jackson knew that being a demigod was dangerous. Still, she didn't think she'd ever get used to knowing that her son, the light of her life, risked death each and every day. This new scenario, however, was the worst yet. Her son was missing, and she had no idea if he was safe, or even alive. It didn't help when Annabeth told her what they had figured out - an exchange, amnesia, another camp more ruthless than Camp Half-Blood. She was lethargic and depressed, stricken with worry. Her son, her poor son, he shouldn't have this burden, he should still be innocent, where was he!
Annabeth visited every week. Sally always looked forward to her visits - she was the only one who could understand what she was going through, what she was feeling. They reminisced together, confided in each other, and gave the other a shoulder to cry on. Annabeth also kept Sally updated on the progress of the Argo and the other preparations. Sally knew they planned to leave in about three months, not a moment too soon for Sally's tastes. She was so grateful for everyone helping to get her son back home safely!
Then, one day, finally, the phone rang. It was late, and Paul was out at a school board meeting. Sally payed it no heed - she was in no shape to deal with solicitors. The phone went to answering machine, and a familiar voice played over the speakers. "Hey mom …" Sally bolted upright, running to the phone, tears streaking down her cheeks. Her son, her son, he was safe, he remembered! Yes, he was on a quest, but Sally finally had hope that things would be alright. Paul found her there, an hour later, shoulders shaking with sobs of relief, listening to the message play over and over.
It was time for the Argo to leave. Annabeth stopped by one last time to say goodbye and promise to do her very best to bring Percy home safely. She didn't need to promise, Sally knew she'd do that anyway. Sally prayed to all the gods to bring her son home safely.
It seemed the gods wouldn't answer that wish. About a month later, the frizzy-haired red-head Sally recognized as Rachel and Percy's best friend Grover stopped at her door. From just their faces, Sally could tell it was bad news. Tartarus … just that word made Sally crumble. She barely heard anything else they said. Tartarus … Percy, her baby, in Tartarus? Inconceivable, and yet … So she broke down into Paul's arms, oh how thankful she was for Paul, it wasn't fair to him, it wasn't fair to anyone, why was the world so unfair? Why did the fates have to do this to her little boy? Tartarus …
One morning, weeks later, she woke up, her eyes red after the usual nightmares of Percy's mangled body and lifeless eyes, dead in the pit of eternal damnation. As usual, she prayed to the gods that her son would come back to her. Paul was cooking eggs for breakfast, and she shuffled around making coffee. Suddenly she heard a key in the lock - could it be? She stilled, listening. One word, one word was all it took. Mom?
The cup dropped from her slack fingers and shattered on the floor. She didn't care, because right there was Percy, her Percy, worn and weary but alive! And before she knew it, she was there, next to him, hugging him, babbling in sheer, utter relief. She let go and looked him over. Oh gods, he was too skinny and scarred, and his eyes had a look like shattered glass. He looked like he had been to hell and back, and gods, he had. She was speechless, and so was she, but then he smelled the blue cookies - she had baked a fresh batch every few days, just in case - and he was still Percy, her Percy, exhausted and battle-scarred and grieving, but with the same smile and laugh and everything would be alright.