Theme: Live through the Day
Author: KatieArtemis
Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians
Disclaimer: I own nothing except Sally's death. Muhahaha. I'm so evil.
Comment: Takes place a year after TLO and ignores HoO ;)

Loved and Lost

Sally Jackson died in a car accident on a Saturday morning.

It was ironic that a woman that important left behind almost nothing. Sally hadn't owned much; just her clothes, her book's almost finished manuscript and some savings. That was not a big surprise to anyone - she had never been materialistic. Not that she had ever had the chance to be. Half her life she had barely eked a living for her and him, the now seventeen-year-old son she left behind, too.

A week after her death, Percy looked at his own reflection in the mirror and touched his face with the tips of his fingers, looking for features he might have in common with his mother. He didn't find much since he was the spitting image of his father. People had told him he had Sally's smile, though. Unfortunately he wasn't in the mood to try that one out.

She had died so young, only forty-six years old. Percy had always been sure he would have his mother for many years to come; she'd see him graduate from a school that actually kept him, see him get married or something (cough), see his children (double cough). It wasn't something he'd given much thought; he had just… assumed.

Percy swallowed hard and turned around as he heard footsteps behind him.

"Are you ready to go?" the boy asked as he stepped into the room.

Percy managed to nod. "You mind lending me a hand, Nico? I don't really know how to adjust my tie, it's kinda strangling me."

"Uh. Sure."

As he did, Percy couldn't help but feel uncomfortable in his stupid black suit. He had worn it to his mom's wedding with Paul last year – still he felt like it didn't fit even though the size was right. It felt wrong and awkward and terrible to wear the same suit to her funeral, but he didn't have anything else if he didn't want to go in jeans.

His cousin smiled helplessly as he was done fixing his tie. "There you go."

"Thanks", Percy said. "Where did you learn to bind ties?"

"My mom taught me, actually", Nico replied mirthlessly. "It wasn't uncommon for children to wear ties when I was little, you know."

Oh, right, Percy thought. He always forgot how old Nico actually was. It was too unbelievable that his little cousin had been born before World War II.

"I thought you didn't remember your mom", Percy half-asked.

"I do now", Nico answered, looking out of the window sorrowfully. "Apparently the River Lethe didn't wash away everything. Some 1940's stuff has been coming back to me in my dreams. Not much. A doll of Bianca's, playing ball with some neighbours, my mom's smile, some really ugly cars. That's about all I remember."

Percy looked at him thoughtfully. "Do you miss it?"

"Miss what?"

"That world."

Nico shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes I do, I guess. The present's really different. It's more peaceful though."

"I can imagine", Percy muttered, imagining what it would be like to be a child during war. Especially a child of the Big Three. It had cost Nico's mother her life after all, and it would have cost his, too, hadn't Hades been there to save his children.

"We should go, right?" Nico asked, changing the subject. "We'll miss the funeral."

Percy gulped, knowing there was no way to avoid this dreaded day. "Yeah. Sure."

"Do you even want to go? You could…"

"I'll go", Percy interrupted, feeling the need to speak it out loud before he really did reconsider.

Nico smiled the smallest of smiles as they walked out of Sally's room. "It gets better. Trust me. You just have to live through this day."

"What if I can't?" Percy asked bitterly.

Nico turned the lights out on his way out, which Percy had kept on even though the sun was shining outside. "You'll have to."

The sky was a beautiful shade of blue as they walked through the cemetery; the weather was almost ironically pretty. It always rained in movies when people were buried. Apparently, real life was different.

As he and Nico walked up the steps to the church, Percy wished Paul was there, too, but he knew that his stepfather would not - could not – attend the funeral. He was in therapy. Because Percy had been at a field trip with his school the day she had died, Paul had been the one to identify his wife's body after the car had hit her.

Apparently the sight had left poor sensitive Paul so broken that he fell into a shock deep enough for him to be sent to a mental facility to recover. He had not talked for a week now and in the beginning he had even refused to eat. The psychiatrist still could not tell when Paul would return to normal, even though he was optimistic that he would.

At the door to the church, Percy almost ran into some freak who came barging out of it. It was a guy he had never met before; he was maybe around his twenties and his blond hair stood in contrast to his deep tan.

For a second Percy thought it was Apollo, but their features were actually nothing alike as he looked closer.

"I'm sorry, boy", the guy said after a moment of mutual staring, his expression motionless but still sorrowful.

"It's alright," Percy replied numbly. It wasn't like he cared if someone bumped into him. Who did, really?

Before the stranger could reply, a familiar voice called out from inside the church.

"Percy!"

He turned around and spotted Annabeth. She was wearing a black dress and even black ballerinas, which were a rare sight since she usually wore sneakers. Her father stood somewhat awkwardly by her side and gave a mild, compassionate smile.

Annabeth ran up to Percy and hugged him tightly. Out of the corner of his eyes he tried to glance at the blond stranger, but he was nowhere to be seen, and he decided to just forget it.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come earlier! That stupid plane was late…," Annabeth apologized.

Percy finally put his arms around her, too. "It's alright. I'm glad you could come at all. I know it was short notice."

"Of course we came…"

Percy was happy that she didn't come around to that whole "I'm so sorry for your loss/cheer up, everything's gonna be okay"-thing most people pulled at funerals. He figured that Annabeth probably understood too well what it felt like to lose people you love. It didn't help when others tried to comfort you – they should just leave you alone and let you grieve, for God's sake.

She let him go after a minute, gave him a brief kiss on the cheek. "Tell me if you need anything, okay?"

Percy smiled. "Yeah. I will. Thanks."

After that, many people walked up to him and expressed their condolences. He was surprised at the number of people who came; not only Sally's friends – who turned out to be many, some of which he had never even seen – but his, too. Some from Goode High, but mostly from camp. They seemed to be there for his support, not his mother's sake, but that didn't matter. He was strangely thankful that they had come.

Chiron and Mr. D, of course, did not show up – he would not have expected them to. Chiron had a camp to run and Dionysus probably gave a rat's ass. But Grover was there, as were the Stolls, Juniper, Katie and a bunch of others, including Tyson who almost crushed him with one of his famous bear hugs and basically bawled his eye out. Even Clarisse came. She shook his hand and looked him deep in the eye, Chris standing next to her.

"You're okay," she stated.

Percy shrugged. "Guess so."

"No, you are," she repeated and smacked him a little too hard on the shoulder before leaving to sit down. Chris shook his hand in a less violent manner and then followed his girlfriend.

Percy guessed that was Clarisse's way of expressing her condolences, and it somehow amused him. Some things never changed, did they?

Otherwise, the ceremony was a blur to him. The priest talked and talked and Percy could only wonder why his mother had chosen to be buried the Christian way. He knew she was baptized and raised that way, but still. She knew – had known - there was no God, not in that traditional sense. Her son was the breathing, living proof of the existence of many gods, not the ultimate one. Why had she never quite converted? Percy did not know.

He mostly just hung after his thoughts all throughout the ceremony. Only vaguely was he aware of his friends' presence; Annabeth and Grover to his right, Nico to his left. They were in the front pew, which gave him an excellent view of his mother's neat, white coffin that lay there, surrounded by candles and incense.

He thought of his nice, perfect mother, the way she had always smelled of cookies and sweets, her warm smile. It was all gone now. All that was left of this beautiful person was a cold, decaying body in a wooden box, which would fade away just like she had.

At that cheery thought Percy felt he was close to throwing up, and all he wanted by now was out.

About half an hour later the ceremony was over. Six men lifted the coffin and prepared the process of carrying it to the grave. Percy was glad he had refused to be one of them.

Especially now that he had decided to run from the funeral. That might have looked kind of funny if he had dragged the coffin with him, since that was what he essentially wanted to get away from.

At the door he saw the bouquet he had picked out for himself to put on the coffin. It was simple; white flowers, nothing more. He had thought it was the most fitting considering his mother's bright personality.

For a second he hesitated, then he took the flowers with him. Suddenly he knew exactly where to bring them. He would not let them bury them, too.

Nico shot Percy a knowing glance as he sneaked towards the door.

"Are you leaving?" the young boy asked softly.

"I… I think so. I'll explain later." Maybe.

Without saying another word, Nico just patted his arm and turned away, pretending he didn't see.

The second he opened the door, people turned around. Some called his name questioningly.

Percy started running the moment the door slammed shut behind him.

"Mommy, do you believe in heaven?" Percy inquired.

Sally turned around and looked down at her six-year-old son. Then she kept cutting the vegetables as she answered. "Uh. That's hard to answer. Why do you ask?"

"Miss Smithers says there's a place where good people go when they're dead, but Billy told me she's lying. His father died last year and he says he didn't go to heaven. He went to the earth."

Sally sighed softly. "… Well, many people believe that only the body is buried and the soul moves on to a better place. No one knows whether that's true, though."

"But you haven't answered my question… do you believe in it?"

At that, she could only smile. She always wondered how people could think this kid was dumb. He even noticed when adults avoided his questions. Sally put down the knife and bent down to look Percy in the eyes. "Actually, sweetheart, I do. I just don't call it heaven. I call it Elysium."

"Ellishum?" Percy asked confusedly.

"You'll understand when you're older, love. But don't worry too much about it, okay? You and I, we still have so much time left."

Percy paused for a moment and just looked at her, apparently thinking really hard.

"Something else?" Sally asked.

"Yeah… mommy?"
"Yes?"

"Do you want to go to heaven when you die?"

Sally just stared for what seemed like a minute. What the Hades did that religion's teacher put in the children's heads? Six-year-olds should not be wondering where their parents went when they died, for Zeus' sake. Still she wanted to take her son seriously and gave him an honest answer.

"Actually, if I could choose, I would go to sea."

Remembering that talk, Percy wondered if he had just bought himself a nice ticket to hell including a lounge and some free cookies. Where did you land if you stole a priest's car? He just had, and right now he didn't care if he went straight to the fields of punishment for it and was forced to scrub Hades' underpants and room with Smelly Gabe for the rest of his existence.

He parked the stolen Mercedes (how could a priest afford that, anyway?) as close to the beach as possible and ignored all the passersby who shot him stupid looks and pointed at him for wearing a suit and a bouquet to the beach, all the while wishing he could just throw some slimy, ugly fish at them or something. Maybe a really angry goldfish would do, too.

Percy reached the old, shabby cabin at Montauk Beach after some walking. The paint was peeling off at some spots and one of the stairs had broken into pieces as Grover had put a hoof through it when he had come to get Percy five years ago, but he had never been happier to see this shack anyway. This was the closest he felt to home right now.

His mother's voice echoed in his ears.

If I could choose, I would go to sea.

Percy walked into the cold waves and stopped when they reached his chest. Luckily he did not have to worry about the suit. It was completely dry, just like everything else he touched in the water. That could really come in handy sometimes.

"…Mom?" he asked and swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. It was hard to speak at all; he had never been much of a brilliant talker - except for talking nonsense, he was admittedly quite good at that -, and he was not about to become one. For a minute he just stood there and pondered about what to say until he decided that words were meaningless anyway. He decided to just think them.

I love you, Mom.

He lowered the bouquet he was holding above his head into the water and let go of it. It took a while for it to sink, but eventually it did, and the white flowers disappeared into the waves as Percy summoned a current to take them farther to sea. A slight breeze came up with it and he shivered. But he did not want to leave the beach yet.

Percy strode back to the sand and felt his eyes sting as he approached the cabin. Maybe he could pour himself a cup of tea or something if electricity had not been turned off…

"I hate funerals, too."

Percy actually jumped as he heard the voice.

He was only half-surprised to find the blond not-Apollo guy from church standing behind him on the beach. He, too, was wearing a suit, but he had loosened some buttons of the white shirt underneath and his hair was more ruffled than before. He looked tired.

"… Dad?" Percy asked unsurely.

Poseidon's eyes widened. Then he transformed before his eyes to the middle-aged man with black hair again. "Sorry. I completely forgot my disguise. I was so distracted-"

"It's not like that matters", Percy replied a little harsher than he had intended to.

Poseidon smiled tiredly and let that one slip. "I agree." He paused. "How would you like a cup of… something?"

Percy nodded wearily. "Sounds great."

Some minutes later they were inside the cabin, Percy sitting at the table and Poseidon going through the kitchen cupboards. He got out two cups, placed one of them in front of his son and then sat down across from him.

"They're like the glasses at camp. Make a wish and they'll fill themselves."

Percy managed a wry smile and watched as the cup filled with warm tea. "Thanks."

He took a sip and felt the heat as he swallowed. Perfect.

"… Dad?"

"Hm?" Poseidon asked without looking up from his cup.

"What are you doing here, if I may ask?"

Poseidon smiled. "Like I said, I hate funerals. Besides I figured that you would come here… And I wanted to see how you were holding up."

As he took a second sip, Percy looked up at his father suspiciously. "You did see. We ran into each other at the church. And I'm pretty sure you can do some creepy godly watching from wherever you are. So is seeing how I am really the only reason you are here?"

"Smart boy," Poseidon replied after a small pause. "Actually, I'm here to keep you company."

"… You say that like you're a babysitter. Or a hooker. I don't know which I find more devastating."

"Well, I would find me standing on a street corner with high heels and a skirt trying to lure my grumpy seventeen-year-old son in my bed for money more devastating than me trying to play peek-a-boo with the aforementioned grumpy seventeen-year-old son. But I guess that's a question of taste," Poseidon replied with a perfectly stern face.

Then he reached for Percy's hand over the table and smiled goofily. "Besides, you are my baby. My youngest. My lil' boy."

Percy choked on his tea as he chuckled involuntarily. "Now it's getting creepy."

The sea god grinned. "Well, I am creepy."

"Noted."

They both drank for a moment, not speaking at all.

"Actually… I could use some company myself," Poseidon admitted after some silence. His tone was not complaining or sad, but very matter-of-fact. "Only if you don't mind me hanging around here, of course."

Percy stared. "You're asking my permission to stay? Seriously?"

"Hello? Working on my aforementioned creepiness here," Poseidon replied mock-offended. "Or should I just waltz in with a suitcase, get into my bathrobe, throw myself on the sofa and declare that I'm your new roommate for the rest of your life?"

"Actually, that would fit the myths better," Percy teased.

"Ha-ha."

Percy did not think much about the fact that he may or may not be provoking his father there, which would be like tempting a bull with a red cloth. He was just thankful for the moment of distraction. Besides, if Poseidon's mood was not good, it was at least humorous.

His father now rested his chin in one of his scarred hands. "It was nice of you to bring the flowers here. I think she would have liked that."

Oh. Okay. Distraction over. So he might as well go to interrogation mode himself.

"Yeah… Do you know if she's…?" Percy asked but broke off in the middle of the sentence.

Poseidon leant back. "I don't visit the Underworld, Percy. I'm not allowed to. And it isn't healthy to go there anyway…" He paused. "But I sent Thanatos a note to tell me when her trial is over."

Percy tiredly but curiously lifted an eyebrow. "You're friends with the god of death?"

"Why not?" he answered and shrugged. "He's a great poker player. We sometimes meet up with Hestia, D and a couple of others to play."

"Oh. Okay. That's not weird at all."

Poseidon chuckled.

"What?" Percy asked wonderingly.

"You've got a great attitude, you know? It's kinda fun. Reminds me of…"

"… Mom?"

"Yes."

"… Can I ask you something?" Percy asked after some consideration.

"That sounds scary. But sure."

"Do you miss her? And please, don't lie. I don't hate you if you don't."

Poseidon stood up from his chair. For a terrible moment Percy was sure he had gone too far, that his father was angry with him. But he just took the empty cups and placed them on the counter, then leaned against it. It seemed like he always needed to be in motion, Percy thought. Maybe it was hard for him to stay at one place for so long since he was probably used to travelling all the time.

"To be honest: I can't say that I miss Sally exceptionally much."

Percy drew in a slightly shaky breath. Poseidon apparently heard it, for he continued talking immediately.

"… Oh, Percy, don't get me wrong – let me explain. I do miss her, really. It's just... I have lost many people over the millennia I have spent in this world. I miss them all. Those were my relatives, my lovers…" He cast Percy an unreadable glance. "…My children. And that sort of missing never gets better, because we do not forget anything… While humans do. You actually forget a lot."

He sighed. "Gods, I don't mean to be overly dramatic. But I have seen countless people die. Hell, I have killed countless people myself, that's no secret. To mortals one death can feel big, but when you're immortal… well… you get used to it. I can't find a better way to describe it. It's not like gods don't miss the dead – they just can't afford to."

"… How many?"

Poseidon stared. "How many what?"

"You said Gods don't forget anything. So… How many people that you loved have you lost?" Percy asked, not knowing why exactly he did.

"… 386. 98 of them were my children."

"And you remember them all?"

"Every detail, every day, every second I spent with them, yes."

"… That sucks."

For some reason, Poseidon started laughing. It came out as something between laughing and crying, somehow amused yet completely joyless. "Oh yeah. You have no idea how much that sucks. It's like having your head banged through a wall everyday. And still we gods can't get enough of mortals, even though they make us sad and melancholic and angry. Weird, isn't it?"

What really is weird, Percy thought, is that you came here to share my sorrow and showed that you feel some, too. He could not help but find it… nice. He wondered when – or if - anyone had had such a conversation with a god before.

Poseidon seemed to realize it, too.

"Great. I think I just gave you a little too much information, didn't I?"

"… You're not gonna shoot me and dump me in a pit somewhere now, are you?"

"Nah. I don't need number 387 to dwell on just yet. Oh, and Percy… Just so we're clear…" He smiled kindly. "I love you, and I want you to know that."

"Yah. I kind of like you too, dad. For a mass murderer you're pretty cool" Percy replied amusedly. "Even though you're totally weird and kind of cheap."

"Cheap! What?"
"288 lovers, dad. I did the math. 288."

"… And those were only those I actually loved and who were mortal, mind you."

"That really doesn't help your case."

"… Yeah, and that's exactly why I don't discuss my love life with my children. Thanks for the reminder."

Around midnight, Percy walked up the stairs to his apartment in Manhattan. It was dark out and the bulbs in the stairway were all either broken or close to broken, so it was quite dim, and he was grateful for his unusually good sight in darkness.

Percy was sure that it wouldn't be repeated soon – or ever – but he and his dad had talked for hours. For some reason neither of them had been keen on going home – Poseidon because of Amphitrite's nagging, as he had confessed, and Percy because home was not quite home anymore.

In the end their conversation had not made much sense anymore. Not that it had in the beginning. Percy had pretty much asked all questions he had had over the years about gods, like if they slept (no answer to that but a slightly scary grin), how old they were ("Do you really want to know?"), if they had any hobbies (apparently, Apollo and Aphrodite liked knitting), or if they had thoughts ("HEY! We might not seem like it, but we do! … Except for Zeus, maybe.").

The topic of his mother had come up many times, too, sending them from having fun into a sort of depression, but then back into having fun. They had shared a couple of anecdotes about her and found themselves smiling over them more than once. Percy doubted that anyone had known his mother as well as they did - sorry, Paul - and he realized that just this kind of talk with his last living relative he had needed all along, not a ceremony where strangers - or friends - were pitying him.

All in all, it had been a weird but surprisingly funny night. It had ended with Poseidon promising to take care of the stolen car so Percy would not get thrown in prison; that might be just a little inconvenient, after all.

By now Percy had a bad conscience for running off like that, though. Distance was what he had needed today, but taking off like that had not been fair to his friends. A couple of hours ago he had gotten a message from Nico that he had taken care of everything, comforted Tyson and explained it to everyone, which made Percy feel even more like an ass. Still he could not regret leaving. He could fight monsters and titans, but he could not have watched his mother's coffin being lowered into the ground.

As Percy opened the door to his apartment, he froze. The lights were on. He was sure Nico had turned them off when they had left for the funeral. For a crazy moment he thought that maybe Paul was home, but that could not be. He was still at the mental hospital, he was sure of that. But then who…?

"Hello, Percy."

He whirled around and saw… Yeah, haha. Right. Why not. Apollo was standing in the door to the kitchen. No. Just… no. All he got out was…

"What the Hades? ... Uh. Sorry. I meant… Good evening, Lord Apollo."

Apollo rolled his eyes. "Don't look at me like you're Daphne and I'm… well, me. I'm not here voluntarily, either."

Percy hung his jacket carelessly over a chair in the kitchen. "Okay…?"

"Hermes is on vacation. And the stupid jerk decided to pawn off his duties on good ol' Apollo."

"Okay…?"

"Would you please stop saying that word?"

"… Okay."

Apollo sighed. "What ever happened to taking gods seriously?"

"I'm just tired," Percy replied.

"So you want to get killed when you're tired? How weird."

"You don't say… So you are delivering a message, right?" Percy suggested.

Apollo grinned. "A warning, actually."

"Cool. I love warnings."

"I saw in a vision that some crazy chick will be standing on your doorstep tomorrow to take you away, so you might want to pack up and leave before she shows up."

"…Huh?"

"You're a minor, Percy. Haha, I actually looked that up!" Apollo said and clapped his hands. "Which means you can't live alone and well… the state is going to take care of it. You'll be sent into an orphanage or something! Totally not cool, right?"

"What? No! I turn eighteen in one month! They wouldn't possibly…"
"Yes, they would. Believe me. Since Blowfish is out of it there's no one to take care of you-…"

Percy did not really listen anymore, even though it was rude. He had not thought about that. He was seventeen. Hades…

"Percy? Are you alright?" Apollo asked and thus interrupted his babbling about how Blowfish was a funny, funny name.

"Yeah almost… It's just-"

Something started beeping really annoyingly, and Percy realized he knew that sound. It was not beeping after all… It was…

"Oh, that caduceus from HADES!" Apollo cursed as he drew out the phone from the pocket of his designer jeans.

Not so loud, Martha complained.

I like Hermes better, George deadpanned.

Shut up or he'll yell at us again!

You shut up!

"You BOTH shut up or I'll flush you down the toilet again," Apollo threatened. Then he turned back to Percy. "Anyway, I gotta go. Zeus wants me to pick up his suit from dry-cleaning."

"In the middle of the night?" Percy wondered aloud.

"It's daytime in Europe."
"… Right. Sorry."

"Well, see you sometime later then."

"… Apollo?"

"Yes?"

"If you're here, then who's riding the sun over Europe?"

Apollo pondered for a moment. "Artie. And Ares rides the moon over the US, Hephaestus takes care of the wars, no one takes care of the mechanics, Hestia's handling love and Aphrodite chills, leaving no one to handle the hearth. Why? Does that seem complicated to you?"

"… No. Not at all. Have a good night," Percy said and sort of gave up trying to understand.

"You, too. … Oh, and Percy? I'm sorry about your mom. She was really brave. I remember her from the battle last year. Great woman."

"… Thanks."

"Oh, and here, you got a letter from Thalia, she's sorry she couldn't make it… And… oh! A message popped up on your kitchen table just a couple of minutes ago. You might want to check it," Apollo added. "And by the way, your creepy little cousin from hell is crashing on your sofa. I had to knock him out 'cause he freaked when he saw me. God knows why. You have a good night, too!"

Then the sun god vanished in a small streak of light.

Percy sighed tiredly when he was gone. He really couldn't take more great news that night.

The first thing he did was to check on Nico, who indeed was asleep on the couch. Apparently, Apollo had diligently covered him with a blanket after he had punched his light out. Percy noted with slight amusement that Nico drooled in his sleep. That seemed to run in the family.

This amusement vanished as suddenly as it had come, though. He had to start thinking about what to do now.

It looked like he would have to cut school for a month and meanwhile move to camp until the state got off his back when he turned eighteen. Great prospects for a student with a straight D average for whom it was hard enough to keep track while he actually attended school. No, he could not leave school for a month; he would not graduate if he did. He had to think of something, and do it quickly, because otherwise... Well, otherwise his life would become even more complicated than it already was. They would have to invent a new word for it, like - ultracomplicated or something along those lines. Wow, he was really being creative.

And even though Percy dreaded more bad news he went to the kitchen table bravely and indeed spotted a note. It was small and crumpled, but it was definitely there. Oh, my. He approached it like it might barf at him or something any minute if he got too close.

After a moment of self-persuasion he picked it up and unfolded it. One sentence was scribbled on it hastily in a handwriting Percy had come to know by heart even though he had rarely seen it. Percy's heart skipped a beat as the letters fell into place. He resisted the urge to squeal like a little girl.

"She reached Elysium."

Hi! :)
I know, I know, I uploaded my last story ages ago and probably no one remembers me - if you ever knew me, but hey, I'm optimistic - but here it is!
I'm not sure why I wrote this (or actually, it kind of wrote itself), but I like it enough to publish it. ;) I hope you enjoyed reading it, because it was fun to write. (It was intended to be drama, but somehow it kept becoming comedy, so I just gave up at some point... Besides I wanted to concentrate on the living, not on the dead - it's more important to celebrate life than to cry over death, really. Even though we all need to grieve... It's hard to explain, but I hope you get what I mean.)

And I failed as a writer to bring this into the story without fluffing it mercilessly: I think Percy is the kind of person who hides pain with humour. That's why I don't make him cry even once in this fic. I think it's too unlike him. He's probably OOC enough already. ;D (Poseidon is always a little OOC by the way. Maybe I'm living out my daddy issues through him or something, I don't know.)

Ah, and please point out grammar errors if you stumble over some. I was too tired of it to read it again. I read the first few passages, like, twenty times. Ick. But that's no surprise since this is my longest completed OS EVER. :)

Have a beautiful day!

~KatieArtemis