I sat down for 3 hours and forced myself to write this, oh god I'm so horrible.

Something was lost.

Something was forgotten.

Something important. Something vital. On the tip of the tongue but to never be spoken.

Somehow they forgot, but it's impossible to erase someone, something, completely.

Water was dripping, the constant pat-pat-pat from the sink made it harder to focus, what was it that she forgot? Her eyebrows furrowed and she made the movements to sit down at the kitchen table. Her train of thought was completely lost, like it crawled away while she wasn't looking and she had no chance of finding it.

Biting her lip she shook her head and resumed her task of making dinner, three pieces of chicken simmering in a pot. Three, why three? There was just her and Paul, and they never ate enough to make three pieces. Her chest heaved a sigh as she turned the chicken, age was catching up to her.

There was still something nagging at her from the back of her mind, though. It felt as if a leach had attached itself to her memory, and everything was floating away. She certainly didn't like the feeling, but shook it off. Dinner wasn't going to cook itself and she would sell her soul before she ordered takeout.

She also ignored the reflection of blue eyes in the microwave, slowly fading to brown.

His head shot off the table with a gasping breath, chest heaving shakily. It took a moment for him to remember his surroundings. Taken by a scary lady who tazered him, mistaken for a wanted criminal and then left alone in an interrogation room. A normal Tuesday really, but all of his Tuesdays were shitty, along with all the other days of the week.

But back to the plot points, as stated somewhere previously, demigod dreams fucking sucked. The son of an ice giant did something to his mother, that was an offence that required either hanging or a new French invention from three hundred years ago. No one touches his fucking mother. He needed to get the fuck out of here.

"Hey! Acronym Douchebags! I want my phone call." They better answer, he had been in this room long enough for him to wake up from being tazered, be interrogated and then have a nightmare about the Kirsten Stuart and Hitler's Lovechild™. He felt like he was forcefully snorting a kilo of cocaine with how jittery he was. Fuck demigod powers and their fucking side effects.

He sunk down in his seat and waited impatiently, tapping his foot obnoxiously loud. He could feel his nostrils flaring at the force of his exhale. He refused to have a mental breakdown in the middle of this shitty interrogation room, which, he had the feeling was intentionally shitty just to create the atmosphere of hopelessness. It was fucking working because guess fucking what? He felt pretty fucking hopeless.

"Percy, calm down." He opened his eyes to the face of the fucking scary chick. That wasn't something that made him feel better. She looked like she had much better things to do than be catering to his worthless needs, to which he didn't agree to much.

"I'm fucking calm, calm and cool as a frozen lake. This ice ain't cracking, no inexperienced ice fishers are dying today bitches." Her lip didn't twitch this time, which honestly just hurt his feelings.

"Why do you want to make a phone call? Warn your friends of questionable professions that you're currently incarcerated?" She questioned eye brows raised, something he knew was such a fucking manipulating tactic.

"Look I'm going to be frank with you because I'm really on edge right now and a bit pissed off. I just had a dream of our little friend the less slutty Gangus Khan messing with my mother. The mother that I haven't graced with my presence in a while. The point that comes real close to becoming copyright of The Book Of Mormon, the shitty things I dream are real." She stared at him for a moment before sighing and unlocking his handcuffs from the table.

"You better not be fucking with me, I've had enough shit to deal with today." He rolled his eyes.

"You'd know if I was fucking with you, I'm a terrible actor, taunting is more my game. I thinks it's the ADHD that makes it easier to come up with scathing insults." She gripped his cuffs and shoved him out of the interrogation room. "Where are we going?"

"We," She glance up at the cameras in the hallway, "Are going to do some investigating, because this god has had his bag of tricks shoved up my ass for too long."

"Huh." His eyes furrowed.

"What now? Need a bathroom break?" She hissed under her breath.

"No, well yes, but that's not the point. You trust me? Just like that?" She stared at his face for a few moments, before turning around and pulling him along like a more functionally rag doll.

"Bad men usually don't take the time to worry about their mothers, neither do they have panic attacks over said mothers well being. You are not on our database for any crimes other than disorderly conduct a couple years ago and parking tickets, and you were cleared from the accused terrorism when you were twelve. You are a civilian with no criminal record, nor do we have any reason or ability to keep you past the federal mandated holding time, which has past. You are no longer in our custody and that means were going to investigate your mothers house under the pretense that I am providing you safe passage off the facility, as protocol mandates." He opened his mouth to reply but was cut off sharply as she pulled him along and shoved a blindfold onto his face.

"You remind me of my old girlfriend, she was scary too. She's dead now and that still makes me sad, but you remind me of her." He couldn't see the spy's reaction, but that didn't matter, he knew it had to be amused.

"Being compared to a dead girlfriend isn't going to get you anywhere, and here I was thinking you were smooth." He chuckled with as much mirth as he could muster.

"Yeah, no, I stopped playing for that team a long time ago, when I told that guy he could suck my ass last year, I bet you if he knew I was serious he would've been in a lot less pain." He could hear  her eyebrows raising.

"Good to know for future preparations, the tight cat suit tends to distract men from their original objectives. I find that the specific skill set is more useful for men who can appreciate it." He grinned.

"Just because I don't swing that way doesn't mean that I can't appreciate it." He needed to shut his mouth before he fucked this us.

"Don't make me taze you Jackson." Her voice went from it's alluring, crisp tone to venomous. He gulped.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

---

So, protocol ended up being unceremoniously shoved into a car and left to flail around with handcuffed hands at every bump and turn. He could tell it was new York traffic by how unbearably slow it was.

"Can I at least know where were going?" He groaned into the seat cushion, after being thrown in a short stop.

"Where the evidence lies Mr. Jackson. You wanted to call your mother, I'm doing you one better." He groaned again, but with no verbal affirmation.

"She's going to hate me, I haven't talked to her in months, I haven't seen her since I shipped off to the army. I'm a terrible person." The last sentence was muffled by leather.

"Agreed, that's a shitty thing to do Jackson, but I think what the importance of this mission is, is the question of how you're going to fix it." She spoke like she was speaking to a toddler, but no. who she was dealing with was worse. Children can learn.

"There is going to be lots of yelling, and apologies, and yelling." He rolled over onto his back to sit up but she pressed the breaks again and he shot forward, falling into thee crevice between the seats, his arms pinned behind him painfully.

"You should know that yelling is better than silence." She replied sharply.

"I hate you."

"Noted."

The next thirty minuets were spent listening to Taylor Swift and the occasional car honk with him losing feeling in his arm, until she pulled over and The Scary Assassin Chick™ opened the backseat door and pulled off his blindfold and what was left of his fragile masculinity.

"I don't feel safe in this relationship." She rolled her eyes.

" Get out of the car Jackson." She barked.

"Yep."

The walk up to his mother's apartment was nerve wracking to say the least. He could feel his heart pumping in his chest, to hard to be anything other than unhealthy. He had defeated monsters forty times larger than him, and he was scared to talk to his mother? He could do it, it wasn't like she would hate him. Even if she chopped his head off, he could never hate her. He just hoped that that feeling flowed both ways.

"Let me make contact first . We are unaware of the situation." Spoke as the approached that door, he clenched his jaw and nodded.

She stared at him for a moment analyzing him, before knocking  on the door assertively and falling into stiff posture.

The moments of waiting were agony, leaning against the door down the hall and watching from the corner of his eye as the edge of the door peeked open. He tried to control his breathing but fail miserably.

"Hello there, is this the Blofis-Jackson residence?" His mom's face peaked out of the crack and held no trace of a smile that he remembered. Her face had aged a bit since he last saw her, deeper laugh lines around her eyes and sprinkles of gray inside her hair.

 "Yes, yes it is. How may I help you?" Her voice was the same, smooth, soothing. He closed his eyes like he could listen to it all day.

"I am here on behalf of The Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division, also known as S.H.I.E.L.D. In disclosure of your son." He held his breath at her reaction, but nothing came.

"Excuse me? Is this some kind of joke?" The tone coming out of her mouth was all wrong, it wasn't denial, it was confusion,

"Your son, Percy Jackson." Her voice wavered. Sally laughed humorlessly.

"I'm sorry to waste your time, miss. I don't have a son." She politely shut the door in her face, which really should have been impossible.

She always did the impossible

He cuffed his hand around his mouth to try to control his breathing. Why couldn't he breathe? His breath turned ragged and his eyes watered, body shaking. Natasha ran over to him as his legs collapsed under him.

"Percy! Hey Percy look at me, it's ok." Natasha tried to calm him down uselessly. He looked up to her, jaw quivering.

"He made her forget me." He clenched his jaw to stop the shaking. No one touched her without dying, she was off limits. She was all he had left and she wasn't about to have that taken away, not by anyone.

"That assholes going to pay."