A/N: Nico is there!

The first thing I noticed was that it was warmer in Foggia than on Long Island. I took of my jacket while I set off to the other side of the terminal. Right now, my relatives were waiting there for me.

The terminal was too long and the anxiety was getting to me. What if they weren't there? How long would I wait for them? An hour? Two? A whole day? I shook the thought out of my head. I'd cross that bridge when I got there.

When I finaly reached the blinded doors at the end, I knew it was now or never. I already got this far: I already called them, we made an arrangement, Dionysus brought me away. I'd just have to walk through.

A woman bumped into me. 'Keep walking!' She snarled. I did as she ordered.

I got through the doors and looked around. There were a bunch of people standing outside the terminal. A few little groups, two parents hugging their daughter, a man kissing his partner, a few people who were cheering loudly, and a girl with blond hair and a smile on her face. She was holding a sign. 'Nico di Angelo, America,' it said.

I had to gather courage for a moment before walking towards her. 'Eh... Nico. That's me,' I muttered. It took everything to look her in the eye. Her smile got broader. 'Sofia,' she answered, while she stuck out her hand. I shook it.

'Sorry.'

She smiled. 'Are you nervous?'

'Well, yeah.' More than a little, I'd say.

'Me too. Come, my great-grandmother, and the rest of my family, want to meet you. They are waiting a little further away.' Especially her great-grandmother? That was my mothers' sister. Did she looked like my mother? Would I instantly see it?

Sofia asked how the flight went while we made our way through the airport. I made something up about bad American lasagna and turbulence, too scatterbrained to really think about how a flight would be.

I immediately saw them. There were two girls, probably Sofia's sisters, who looked similar to her. Their parents were sitting next to them. Clearly an Italian woman and a not-so Italian father. They were accompanied by a woman in a wheelchair. My aunt.

Sofia chuckled. 'We persuaded my grandparents into staying at home,' she told me. 'Otherwise we would have probably taken an hour longer to get here.' I nodded.

Sofia's sisters seemed just as dumbfounded as I was. Her youngest sister, who was about fourteen, clasped her hands together.

My aunt pulled all the attention to herself. She looked majestic, even in a wheelchair. She gestured that I should come closer, and when I did, pulled an old photograph out of her purse. She unfolded it and held it near my face.

'You look just like her,' she told me in Italian, after inspecting the picture for a good minute.

'Thanks,' I answered, also in Italian. 'Can I see the picture?'

Sofia's grandmother seemed content when it turned out I spoke the language. She handed me the photograph. 'Be careful with it.'

My mother. She looked younger than in the picture I had in my cabinet, more like a girl than a woman.

'I remember she had a son. He looked like you,' My aunt said, while I gave the picture back. Sofia's mother sighed, ever so softly, but the matriarch heard it: 'It's true, Gabriella. You can laugh about it.'

I saw Sofia behind me roll her eyes. A part of me wanted to tell them how my aunt was more right then they could ever think, but I didn't do it.

'Is the name Mars familiar to you?' The woman asked.

'...yes.' Her asking that could only mean they knew about demigods, somehow. The rest looked at each other as if their theory had just been proven.

'My mother was a child of Moneta, goddess of remembering. I was the only one in the family who got the same gift to remember. That's why I still know everything about your... great-grandmother.'

'...ah.'

'Show some manners, youngling. I am already letting an American godling into my house.'

Sofia nervously looked around. 'Nonna, maybe we should tell him all that at home,' she murmured.

Her great-grandmother gave her a look. 'Let us go there, then. And make sure the child gets some good food. I thought they were all fat in America, but apparently this one is an exception.'

The family had decided that I needed rest. They gave me something to eat and immediately after send me to my room.

While I was unpacking my backpack, there came a knock at the door. 'In?' I asked, while I still held a t-shirt in my hand. Sofia opened the door, followed by her great-grandmother. She wasn't in her wheelchair now.

I quickly stood up to come help, but she waved me away. 'I'd rather you put three of those spare chairs they've got here on the balcony.' I opened the doors and did what was asked.

Sofia helped her sit down. 'My name is Gloriana,' she begun. 'You should know that.'

'Eh...' I shook my head. 'Thanks, ma'am.'

Sofia sat down on the third chair, while Gloriana straightend her suprisingly black hair. 'What made you want to come look for us?'

'I was at a Christmas party with… a friend, at his family's house, and I suddenly wondered if I had relatives in Italy who were celebrating Christmas too.' I nodded. 'I realised I didn't even know if there were people related to me still alive. I knew nothing about my family here.'

'Didn't your mother or father tell you any stories?'

'Eh, well... My mother, eh... I mean, I stayed at the sancuary all year long.'

Sofia looked confused, but Gloriana's gaze got softer. 'At least he or she taught you Italian.'

'Eh, yes. It was always very important that I learn how to speak our native language.'

'What was your mothers' name?'

'... Maria.'

'Maria.' Gloriana gave me a knowing look. 'Sofia, can you go get us all a glass of orange juice?'

Sofia sighed, but stopped halfway through when her great-grandmother glared at her. 'Okay, okay,' she mumbled, as she walked back into the house.

'Maria, the Maria I knew, was your mother.' Gloriana didn't ask it, she stated it. 'And your father preserved you for some time, for whatever reason.'

'Eh... yes.'

'Don't act so self-conscious. I have heard and seen many strange things. My own mother was a demigod, Nico.'

'Yes.'

A car drove by beneath us. 'Your mother, my sister, was a good woman. Some in our family shunned her, because she had children and no husband, or because she went to America, but I never believed she deserved it.' She sighed. 'It is good that you came back. It means I have seen something of her, my beautiful, kind sister, once more.'

I looked at my hands. It was hard to believe that me and this elder woman were a only a generation apart. How different my life would have been if my mother had stayed in Italy. I would have been almost as old as this lady was now, if I had survived that long.

'You said my mother already had children when she left.'

Gloriana nodded. 'She did.'

'Did you... what do you know about Bianca? Do you know about her?'

She slowly nodded, which made my heart skip a beat. 'Your sister.'

'She was.' I shrugged. 'Dangerous bussiness, being a demigod.'

Gloriana closed her eyes for a second. 'I know, dear.' She smiled. 'I looked after your sister sometimes, when your mother couldn't. She liked to braid my hair.' Gloriana smiled. 'Yet, she wasn't really like your mother. In the way you act and look, I see more of Maria then I did in Bianca.'

I slowly nodded, not really sure what to say. The door opened. Sofia walked back in, with three glasses of orange juice. I looked at Gloriana, hoping that she understood.

'I was thinking,' Sofia said, as she sat down next to us, 'Maybe we should go into town tomorrow. Then me, Elena and Lucia can show Nico some of our city.'

I looked at the street beneath us. 'Yes,' I agreed, after a few seconds. 'I would like it if you showed me your city.' Perhaps then I can see some of my mother, too, just like Gloriana did.

A/N: I was originally going to have Nico appear in Foggia with no questions asked, but that made no sense, so I did it like this.

Me writing the scene where Nico sees the sign with 'Nico di Angelo, America:' Oh my god this is adorableeee

Anyway I rewrote half of this chapter last minute I hope you enjoyed