Disclaimer: The rights to Percy Jackson and the Olympians belong to Rick Riordan, not me.

It was only a matter of time before he was enlisted, and he knew it. The Second World War had begun, so he wanted to try and get his mother something before he inevitably sent overseas.

That was how Percy Jackson found himself in a second-hand bookshop, eyes glazing over the shelves. Books weren't really his thing, and he didn't know what sort his mother read. If the depression hadn't been so hard (He was lucky he'd managed to keep his job, really), he would have looked elsewhere.

He bumped into the edge of a bookshelf, and a few were knocked off. He sighed, and bent to pick them up. He tried to smooth out the pages, when one of the books caught his eye. It was an architecture book, something he knew nothing about, but that wasn't what caught his attention. No, the reason to pay this book some extra mind was the neat handwritten notes on the pages. He set the other books back on the shelf, and studied the notes with interest.

They were clearly written by someone who knew architecture, someone who liked to get their facts right. The writing was neat, the y's and g's loopy, and the w's curved. Percy flipped to the front of the book, wondering if there was a name. There was not a name, but an address to the other side of the country, in San Francisco. It would be a pain, but maybe…

Percy walked out of the shop with one book, and, unfortunately for his mother, not the gift.

It was a month later when Percy got a letter back, from a woman named Annabeth. She was the one who had written the notes in what was now Percy's favorite book. Percy had written a letter to the address almost immediately getting home the day he had found the book, sending it as soon as possible. In the letter, he had said that he had found the book in New York City, and wondered how it got there.

Her letter back had at first seemed almost scolding, why would you write to a strangers address? Annabeth had then answered his question, saying she had been sent the book when she was living in New York City, but she had sold the book during the depression so she could manage to come back to San Francisco.

Percy had immediately sent another letter, asking would she like to be pen-pals? He had been unable to think of much to ask to show he was serious, so he settled on asking who had sent the book to her while she had been in New York City. He knew he at least sent the letter to the right place, the handwriting on the first letter she had sent confirmed it, so no worries about that now. But would she accept his offer?

It turned out Annabeth was fine with being pen-pals, and they wrote back and forth for a few months, and got to know each other very well. The one thing Annabeth would not allow was the sending of pictures from either party.

"Why does it matter what we look like?" she had asked when he had first wondered at what she looked like. "We have conversation, and it isn't as terrible as I first thought it would be."

He had dropped the apparently sensitive subject, preferring to ask her exactly what she meant by terrible conversation.

It was the fourth month of their conversation when Percy got enlisted. He hadn't had enough time to write her a letter before he went, so he contented himself with reading the architecture book on the ship, and telling her about when the new soldiers reach their destination. And so the letters kept going back and forth, albeit a bit slower with the extra distance. He would send a letter whenever he got moved to a new location, and she had sent him a letter once to alert him of her new address in New York City.

There were more jobs there, she told him.

Percy was going to be discharged soon, for the war was almost over, enough that they could start sending troops home.

He wrote Annabeth, Perhaps they could meet at the station when he returned?

To his surprise, and delight, she agreed. He would carry the architecture book that started this, and she would wear a blue hydrangea on her coat collar.

It was crisp autumn day when Percy stepped out of the train car, still in his uniform. It was nice to be back in the city, he decided, especially when he was going to meet, what he was sure was going to be, a beautiful woman.

He waited for roughly an hour, clutching the book to his chest, and keeping his eyes peeled for the blue hydrangea. A train pulled into the station at the time he agreed to meet Annabeth, and he sat up straighter, looking carefully.

A lovely woman, with blonde hair and sharp gray eyes passed him, wearing a long tan coat. Certain that this was Annabeth, Percy almost forgot to check for the blue hydrangea.

The woman spared him a glance. "Hey Soldier, going my way?" she smirked, and breezed past him towards a little restaurant.

She didn't have a flower, blue or otherwise on her coat collar.

Percy turned back to the rest of the passengers who had gotten off the train, determined to find her.

There!

It was an older woman, maybe in her late sixties, who had the blue hydrangea pinned to her coat collar. Her hair was graying, and wrinkles on her face sagged. Percy could feel himself sagging a bit, the relationship he'd imagined changing, but not disappearing.

He stood up, and walked over to the woman.

"Soldier Percy Jackson." He saluted her smartly. "Ma'am, it would be my pleasure to escort you to dinner."

The woman looked up at him, squinting. "Alright, listen," She said frowning at him. "I don't know what exactly is going on, but that lady in the tan coat gave me this flower and said that if you asked me to dinner that she would be waiting for you," She pointed at the restaurant the blonde woman disappeared to. "Over there."

A/N: Hey, I'm a new writer, and any criticism is welcome. Are my words too repetitive? Am I not explaining things well? Am I jumbling up pieces of information? Any and all feedback appreciated.