Disclaimer: Me? Owning Percy Jackson? Hah, I wish. I don't even own the title, which is taken from "Pieces of What" by MGMT AKA the only song I can play on the guitar. It's also a really beautiful song that can make you tear up.

A/N: Yep, I totally wrote this in an hour so the quality can be meh. What can I say; I'm a sucker for Percalypso and this idea is like an evil dust bunny in the form of a plot. But don't fret, Percabeth fans! This one-shot by no means makes Annabeth less important for Percy. Canon is canon and I'm not about to disrupt the peaceful (well technically, not) world Mr. Riordan had set up.

Shattered and Untied

Calypso was shocked, to say the least.

She had been at Tilden Park that morning; finding herself in need of breathing space away from the tall, square buildings of San Francisco and its suffocating atmosphere due to the pollution.

Almost a year had passed since she was liberated from Ogygia and she missed her tranquil prison, still. Once in a while, she would doubt whether freedom was worth it if it meant living here. The outside world wasn't as nice as Hermes had told her many, many times before. Then, she would shake her head and smile, reminding herself that it was all thanks to Percy Jackson she was even here. The thought that he hadn't forgotten about her put a smile to her lips.

But did Hermes have to drop her off here, though—so close to Mount Tamalpais where Atlas held up the sky? She bit her lower lip and stared off into the distance where she knew the mountain would be. It kept her thinking late at night if the gods purposefully did this as another subtle punishment once she was out of Ogygia: to see if she would relieve her father of his burden, causing him to walk the Earth freely and destroy it in his wake.

Both choices were good and bad at the same time.

Life was unfair, but when was it ever fair for her?

First, being cursed to fall in love with every hero that washed ashore her island even though they could never love her back; would never stay there to spend eternity with her.

And now this.

She hadn't even seen Percy again. She suspected he was living a nice life in Manhattan, adored by everyone. The idea that he probably had a lover there too came unbidden to her mind, making her wipe her eyes furiously with the back of her hand. It was only natural for him, anyway, the savior of the world he was.

No, she had to move on.

The park suddenly appeared depressing before her. Its beauty was no match for Ogygia, of course, but she couldn't help the sense of longing desperation to be back. Had all those millennia trapped there softened her? Made her accustomed to the routine, perhaps?

Calypso smiled to herself, though it didn't quite reach her eyes, and turned around to leave.

What she noticed first of the woman's appearance was that she had snakes as hair.

By instinct, she shut her eyes closed.

"Relax, daughter of Atlas," the snake-haired woman said, a malicious laugh hiding just beneath the surface. "I am not my sister Medusa."

"Stheno!" another one, who Calypso guessed was Euryale, scolded. "You imbecile! You could have tricked her into thinking you're Medusa!"

"Why would I do that?" Stheno shouted, offended.

"Then she had to close her eyes, completely defenseless!"

"But she's Atlas' daughter, is she not? We can't attack—"

There was a horrible, pained screech and the sound of a million sands falling to the ground like a heavy drizzle. After that, nothing.

Calypso slowly opened her eyes.

She gasped.

Standing in front of her was the very boy she had been thinking about earlier, scattering the monster dust with a kick. His clothes were as tattered as they had been the first time they had met years ago. To say she was curious was an understatement when she realized that he was completely unscathed otherwise.

He moved the tangled black hair out of his eyes; eyes that reminded her of the color of the lake surrounding Ogygia, eyes that made looking out to said lake unbearable for a few weeks following his departure.

"Percy?" she called, tentatively reaching out to touch his cheek. He stiffened, the corners of his lips turning down.

Something was wrong here. Something was very, very wrong.

He looked her up and down, as if trying to place her.

Percy was confused.

He was absolutely sure this girl wasn't Annabeth, but why was his heart beating slightly faster? Why did his chest flood with warmth? Why did he have this strange urge to run away with her and never look back?

There were so many questions filling up inside of him, questions he wanted to ask the girl who knew his name and apparently knew him as well, but the gorgons were starting to reform again.

"I'm sorry. I-I don't…" he stammered, shaking his head dejectedly.

Her hand dropped to her side and already, he began to miss her touch: the first real compassionate contact he had ever gotten in months. A blush formed on her cheeks. She refused to meet his gaze. Percy wasn't stupid. He could feel her heart breaking from a mile away. And it was all because of him.

"You need to go. These snake-haired ladies… they won't stay dead forever." He gestured towards the rapidly reforming dust, trying hard not to let his emotions show like Lupa had taught him.

For a while, she seemed taken aback at his statement. She wrung her hands in a fit of nervousness. "But what about you?"

"Are you kidding me? I've got a pen that can turn into a sword," he joked awkwardly. "I'll be fine. Really. I promise they won't bother you again."

She gripped his hands, a move so sudden it made Percy jump. She met his eyes at last, and though they were nowhere as mesmerizing as Annabeth's gray ones, they were warm, friendly, welcoming.

They threatened to pull him under as she whispered, "Just be careful, Percy."

They ran their separate ways, and it was not until she was out of Tilden Park did Calypso allow her tears to fall.

A/N: Reviews would make my days worth living. No, I'm not suicidal. Completely, that is. Okay, that was a joke. Go away, guidance teachers and psychiatrists!