Hi, this is Innoverse! This is a little story I day-dreamed about earlier today, and I decided to write it out and post it. It's set between the Lost Hero and the Son of Neptune, so Percy's missing.

I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don't own PJATO.

- I Can Still Smell Him: Annabeth's POV -

"Annabeth, look at this one."

I wandered through the aisles of the art gallery with Sally, Percy's mother. I'd been spending a lot more time with her after Percy's disappearance—Sally was good company and we both distracted each other from the grief of losing Percy. She was an interesting person to hang out with, regardless. I enjoyed spending time with her, it was like having a second mother.

Today, we'd decided to go out to an art gallery and look at some of the modern art. They were having a discount day and Sally was getting a writer's block, so we figured some good art would be a nice inspiration for her. And—surprisingly—we both shared an interest in the arts, unlike her less 'creatively inclined' son. Oh man, I missed Percy. I almost wished he was standing next to me, telling me how this painting look more like a brick then a house, or that grain silo in that picture of a farm looked like a rocket ship, or how that picture of his father was completely inaccurate. I missed his stupid comments as much as I missed his kisses and his smile.

I walked over to where Sally was standing, looking at a picture of a boy. He was only five or six, maybe, and was staring incredulously at something, his mouth hanging open a little, his eyes wide. The boy had a mop of dark hair and eyes that looked a shade of greenish-blue. Sally had tears in her eyes.

"It looks like Him," she whispered. Percy's name had become almost forbidden, not because we didn't want to talk about him, but because we couldn't without bursting into tears and experiencing the pain of loss all over again. Sally missed him even more then I did.

I gave a stiff nod. "It does."

She wiped a tear from her cheek with her knuckle. "He would get that exact same expression whenever I told him we were going to the beach when he was little." She stared at the painting, looking wistful and depressed at the same time.

I put an arm over her shoulders. "Come on, Mrs. Jackson."

She sniffled, and let me steer her away. "I told you, call me Sally. Mrs. Jackson makes me feel old."

I gave a small smile. "Okay, Sally."

We wandered on through the gallery, looking at paintings, trying to guess how old they were before reading the little paragraphs below them, and laughing at the funny or cute paintings. There were so many to look at, we didn't know if we'd even get through the entire art gallery before it closed. We finally got to the section of statues, and started wandering around on our own, looking for things that caught our eye.

As I went around, I saw a statue that looked familiar for some reason, sitting up against the wall. It was a man, sitting in a chair, holding a deck of cards. The man was fat and ugly, with only a few hairs on his head, a pot belly, and clothes that barely covered his mammoth body. The statue was extremely detailed—I wondered who would spend so much time making something like this.

While I studied the statue, I suddenly realized why it was so familiar looking. I stifled a laugh and called, "Sally!"

She came up beside me, looking at the statue intently, trying to figure out why it caught my attention. Suddenly, her breath hitched in her throat, and we both looked at each other.

And promptly burst out laughing.

We were falling all over each other, doubling over as we laughed so hard that tears pricked at the corners of our eyes. Several people had stopped browsing to look at us, trying to figure out if we were just crazy or high. I didn't care. It felt good to laugh like this, since the last time I had...

"Oh gods," Sally choked through tears and laughter. "I think I can still smell him."

Haha! It's the statue of Gabe, if you hadn't caught on. Oh gosh, I love this.

Reviews are appreciated. :)