Disclaimer: I have no rights to the Percy Jackson series. Rick Riordan has given a small liberty for us to use his characters unofficially on this site and that is all it is. Fan-fiction.

Sally Jackson had visited the Soho museum twice in her life. Now, to most, this might have been a very uninteresting fact, but to those who were in on the secret, it made them wonder.

Sure she had to have gone there once. To see her first work of 'sculpting' to be put on exhibition. 'The Poker Player' stood… or rather sat in his chair, by the table, holding a few cards. The expression was a strange fusion of anger, confusion and most of all, fear.

She could remember the reasons behind that. She had honestly never raised herself above him before that fateful day. When he had pushed it too far, when even her son could see through to the real happenings, it all changed.

Sally hugged herself, looking up at the unflattering, portly sculpture. Many had called her a fresh view into a completely new branch called 'super ugly neorealism.'

She remembered a woman named Blanche purchasing it. During some museum celebrations through the times, the collector would let the management put the statue on display for the day.

It had been a full year. Percy was still at camp. He had written about his latest quest (she was proud of his letter. Not as many grammatical errors as it usually would have had. Annabeth was a very good friend.) About the new development of Thalia, daughter of Zeus, she had nothing to say except to write back to her boy and tell him to not let his guard down. She knew he wouldn't but still…

Sally sighed and unconsciously brushed her hand, down her pale red gown. It was the first time in a long time that she had been invited to a formal occasion. She had to look her best. Her work was sitting up there on the pedestal and she would be in the spotlight, as soon as people would recognize her.

Until then, she was quiet and unobtrusive.

She had risked eight years of her life for her son with this man and at some times in the night, she would shiver at the haunting memories. So many things could have gone wrong. Percy could have had a normal step-father and would have been almost immediately hunted down by monsters. Without Gabe's olfactory torturing weapon, the gods would have found out earlier. Zeus and Hades would have had no mercy.

She remembered the stories Poseidon had told her years ago. How Hades had lost his lover, Maria to Zeus wrath. How the God of the Underworld would have no compassion towards children of either the Sky's Ruler or the Ocean's Master.

'Would you hurt any of your brother's children?' Sally remembered asking the god.

Poseidon had breathed deeply into her neck and whispered, 'It's the way it is.'

'No.' She had said pulling away from his embrace. The twenty four year old woman had known enough of Poseidon that he wouldn't get angry at her for her slightly rebellious behavior. She looked at him in the eye and had said, 'It's not fair.'

'Life usually isn't.' He had replied. He twirled a strand of her hair behind her ear, making her skin heat up.

Right now, remembering what had encapsulated after that small conversation made her feel flushed. She was in a public place and it would definitely be suspicious if she looked utterly reddened in front of a statue.

Sally looked around wondering if anyone had been watching her. The gala hadn't begun as of yet, but there were a number of guests ambling about the large hall. The men were all in posh suits with immaculate faces, the women were in ostentatious dresses and perky manners. It was like a setting of the late Victorian Era.

Sally felt a little underdressed for the occasion. Her own dress was nothing fancy. Simple and a little lace, but she had felt that the color had flattered her when she had first tried it on. She wore a thin necklace with a single ruby red pendant and tiny glittering earrings. Her feet were clad in three inch heels and she was not comfortable in them at all. She'd be sure to get heel burns. Her shoe rack consisted mostly of shoes and sandals.

One young girl loitered around. Sally noticed that the girl had donned on a ripped pair of jeans over which she had thrown a fancy looking colorful top. The girl, who looked to be just starting her teenage years, seemed to not care about fitting in with the crowd, firstly because there was no one of her age, and secondly, because she didn't even seem to notice it.

The young teen walked back and forth a few portraits. Sally could see traces of interest and significant attention the girl gave to a few of the artifacts. May be she liked art and not dressing up.

Sally immediately felt better. If a young girl could not let something almost inconsequential bother her, then the same could be said for anyone with a little more self-esteem. Gods know that she was seriously lacking in that stream.

"Ms. Jackson?"

Sally blinked and glanced at a tall lady in a silver ankle length evening dress which sparkled like a pure river under the sun. The woman had dark mahogany hair in thick curls and a severely pretty face with a slightly pretentious expression in her green eyes.

The woman gave her a large smile and sauntered over, navigating herself over the marble floor flawlessly in her own tall, thin heels.

Sally immediately flashed back a smile as she recognized her.

"Oh, Sally! It is you! I had my doubts whether you would accept the invitation but I see you've braved the horde." Blanche, the private collector, one who bought 'The Poker Player' seemed thrilled at seeing the brown haired blue eyed woman, creator of the master piece.

"Hello, Blanche. And yes, I wasn't too sure of coming, but then, I had a free night anyway."

"Good, good. I'd like you to meet my husband, William. There he is! That man! How many times do I have to tell him to get off the phone?! He is always about his work. I haven't spent any time with him at all for a whole week! That's why I thought it would be a good idea to have a family outing here. And where's my daughter? Rachel?"

The two ladies turned around and Sally blinked when the sulky little teenage girl trotted over slowly.

She gave 'The Poker Player' a once over before looking back at her mother, who didn't seem to be pleased with her. The woman turned her nose down at the girl's attire before looking back at Sally.

"Well, I apologize for my daughter's sense of fashion, she always gets so confused! Honey, I told you, this was a black-tie event."

Rachel started boldly and said, "Yeah, I must have left my tie underneath my bed."

Mrs. Dare did not look amused at all. Sally gave a nervous laugh, not wanting to see an argument escalate.

"Oh, it's okay Blanche. I have a teen son and he's always mixed up when it comes to formal gatherings. I suppose it's the age. They'll find a way home, trust me."

After a tense moment or two, Blanche smiled at Sally and waved her hand. "You are so right! I remember when I was a young girl, a little rebellious phase should be expected from a teenage child."

The atmosphere fell into calm spirits as they made small talk. Then Mrs. Dare had rushed away towards another contributor.

Sally was about to have a drink when Rachel Dare said, "You actually made that?"

They both looked up at the hideous statue. Gabe seemed to glare down at them, but the look of frozen fear in his stone eyes always threw Sally off. It took her a while to collect her thoughts.

"Um… yes."

Rachel nodded slowly. She observed it for a little while and then said, "It looks very realistic. There's so much detail. I can almost imagine him throwing down his cards like a sore loser."

That's because he was real. He was a person with human details. And he was a very sore loser.

"Yes." The lady nodded wishing to leave.

Rachel stepped away. "I can never get that touch, you know."

"Oh." Sally felt a little uncomfortable, but she didn't want to leave mid-conversation lest it created doubt. "It's about practice, interest and natural talent, I guess. I never knew I could do this. But then my son helped me come to terms with my potential. Here's the result."

She twisted her words to fit both realities. She was not too bad at half-truths.

The red head seemed impressed. "I don't do statues, I prefer sketching and painting. But most never make any sense. Sometimes, I just stop in the middle, confused why I'm even doing it. It's like I can't understand my potential. I mean, I know that I can do it and sometimes, it comes out very nicely, but other times just leave me with questions that make me feel like no one can understand me or what I do."

Sally felt bad for her. There was a sense of empathy as she herself had felt like that before. The times when she could see the mythological monsters and no one else could. When she had to keep the secret of her son's demi-god heritage from everyone including Percy himself. That had been terrible, but now, as she looked back on it, she felt proud of herself for standing up like that. Not many could have lived a life for their children and not lose faith.

"May be that's because your talent isn't meant to be discovered yet. Who know? One day, the right person will sneak up on you and help you understand. You just need to keep your eyes open and hope for the best. That's what I did."

Rachel stared at the illuminated floor, probably looking at her own reflection. Her green eyes seemed to glow for a second.

Sally blinked and watched the girl. She stood so still as though she had come face to face with Medusa. There was something about her that the sculptor couldn't place her finger on, but her fears were unfounded when the girl simply sighed and nodded.

"Well, thanks. And you're a really good artist. Are you going to make any more? I'd love to see them."

Sally looked at Gabe. He didn't give an opinion so she thought for herself. Medusa's head was stored safely in a locked box in the corner of the basement. The key was in Sally's closet and she was not going down there for a very long time. In fact, it was time to move.

"No, actually. I have a much better feeling of turning towards writing. Plus, I have classes at NYU so I wouldn't have time for that anyway. This was just a burst of inspiration and freedom in a way of speaking."

And it was. The moment Sally had closed eyes before opening the parcel Percy had given her, she knew that she was taking the next step. She remembered feeling around the head, touching through the weakly hissing snakes, grabbing a couple of the largest ones and lifting it out of the box. She had sent away all of Gabe's friends with a glare fueled by anger festering up within her for years. She had put down the head in front of a shocked Gabe.

The transformation was gruesome. To see skin turn into granite, to see everything harden, to see him die in such a inhuman way, it made her stuff the head back into the parcel, put the package into a larger box, lock it up and throw it down the basement.

She was pretty sure that if Medusa ever reformed back into the mortal world, the woman would come after Percy and Sally.

It was not an endearing thought.

"I think… I understand." Rachel said in between thoughts. There was a difference in her attitude as she held herself softly.

Sally smiled to herself as she gave her ex-husband a last look.

I'm sorry for using you. I never truly loved you. I could have, but you never let me. It's not all my fault. If you could have seen what you had, it would have been different. I'm not sorry for doing this to you. I'll never be sorry for myself.