AN: Hi! Sorry for the long hiatus there. Thanks to reviewers andy, Kanae Valentine, Ruby Rememberance, and Stinkyacorn! I think you guys are great for reviewing.

I'll be honest. I hate this chapter. This story was intended to be a short one-shot of five different moments, but the first couple of chapters got away from me. Since then, it's felt like I've struggled to properly flesh out my concepts for the last few chapters into a respectable length. Most of all this one, not that I don't think it has it's redeeming points. So, as a word of warning, be prepared for super sweet, pointless fluff. Do not read after intaking large amounts of sugar.

It felt like she had been sleeping for days. The area around her looked like a war zone. As she moved through it, her eyes found her son's. He looked at her, and then craned his neck to see around her. He focused on a point behind her, his eyes going wide with horror.

"Mom!" he shouted, and tried to take a futile step closer.

She whirled around and took a few steps to the side as the Giant behind her was forced back. Others rushed to the space. She blew a strand of hair out of her face as she watched the Giant fall, defeated.

Her son gave a dismayed shout and fell back into the sofa with a whmph! He took a drink from his nearby Coke, and shot a disgusted look at the man on the other side of the couch. Her husband ran his hand through his thick hair and simply shook his head in return.

She left them to their football game as she continued into the kitchen. She had been tired all afternoon, and her nap had left her hungry. She found the last blueberry muffin from breakfast and sat down at the table.

From her position she could see straight into the living room. The scene there made her smile. Her son and her husband sat together on their sofa, occasionally moving to hand off a bag of chips or to pump a fist in triumph.

Her eyes teared up for a moment, before she impatiently dashed them away. Her emotions were constantly surprising her these days. The sports anthem played signaling a commercial. She watched as her husband rose from the couch. He walked into the room, threw away the now empty bag.

"Sorry about the mess in there," he said, indicating the living room, "we'll clean it up afterwards. Are you feeling better now?" She gave a nod, both touched and amused at his over concern.

"It's on," her son's voice rang out. Her husband gave her a kiss and walked back to the television. She had heard of three being lucky, but that hadn't prepared her for how her life had turned out.

Really, the last thing she had wanted when walking into her classroom that semester was to be in a relationship, so soon, again. But he had made her laugh that first day, and when her son had handled the situation with the aplomb of someone twice his age, she had decided to give this new man a fair chance. Together they had found a place for him in their lives, and he had so suited the space it had become impossible to imagine life without him.

She watched him now as he made a comment to the boy on his left about the opposing team. Her son had grown up. That in itself was a small miracle she would always be grateful for. It had seemed so unlikely for a while. He had faced every challenge placed in front of him, unfair as they may have been, and came out the other side stronger. He had made himself better. He made everyone around him better. Her hand came to rest on her swelling abdomen. It was a trait she hoped was passed on to all of her children.

She plucked an errant blueberry from the tabletop. Blue was still their celebration color. Her son's favorite color meant even more to her ever since she had seen its glow, and known that her world has survived its harshest test.

"Their capitol building is the oldest in the country," her son responded, eyes still on the television, "at least, the oldest still used everyday." She popped a piece of muffin in her mouth to hide her smile. If she ever said it, he would deny it until he was blue in the face, all the while grinning like an idiot, but that girlfriend of his was wearing off on him. She liked the effect.

She let her eyes roam over the clean kitchen of their apartment. Her eyes fell on the refrigerator, where her son's history test hung next to a letter from a - her – publisher. An envelope lay on the counter next to it, thick with university advertisements. She fought down the anxiety it suddenly produced. They still had plenty of time before those decisions needed to be made.

She grabbed the muffin and napkin and headed back into the living room. They made room for her on the couch. Her son's head lolled in her direction, "Can you believe this?" he asked her, dejectedly.

She smiled. "I'm learning to," she said. His attention was back on the game, she wrapped an arm around him. Her life had once been a nightmare that she had finally woken herself up from; her life now seemed like an unimaginable dream.

There was blueberry still on the fingers of her free hand, and she wiped them on the napkin. Her eyes fell on her husband, and he interlaced his hand with hers. She settled back against the couch, and gave a sigh of contentment as she followed the path of the football in the air. He didn't seem to mind that her fingers were stained blue. She gave a rare thought to an art gallery downtown, where a plaque with her name on it hung on the wall. She smiled again. Happy anniversary.

AN: I would like to thank everyone who read this story, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I honestly enjoyed writing it. As a further bonus, I'm including a short skit loosely related to this story. Once again, I'm not 100 percent confident about posting this, but I promised a few I would, so here it is. I hope you like it. Let me know what you think!

Paul: Oh, Sally the police called. They found a body in a wall, they think it might be your ex-husband. They're running tests to find out.

Sally: (reading paper, not interested) I see.

Paul: He was married to you for how long, again? And didn't he disappear right after Percy found out…about his father? (nervous glance at Percy and his deadly ballpoint)

Sally: Yes that's about right… (sees his glance) Oh, but Percy didn't kill him, don't worry! He really wanted to, but in the end, decided to let me do it.

Paul: Ah. (forced smile) So…you killed him?

Sally: (turning a page of the paper) With the head of Medusa. That's why the police won't ever find him. He's on display at a gallery downtown.

Paul: The head of…on display…

Sally: I've gone to visit him a couple of times, it's really lovely. My name's on the plaque, right next to his head.

Paul: But he's not…I mean, he can't…He is really…

Percy: Dead? As a doornail. Believe me. My cousin, Nico, took me down to the Underworld to see him as a birthday present last fall.

Paul: Oh…I see. How…nice.

Percy: (enthusiastically) Yeah, it was great. He works in the palace now, you see. He has to wear this ridiculously frilly apron and act as a servant to my Uncle's every whim. Fetch him his drinks, serve his dinner, hold the antennas steady while he watches TV…

Paul: (more than a little freaked out) Mhm…

Percy: Of course, when he saw me he begged...

Paul: (touched) For your help?

Percy: No, for Hades to send him to the pits with fire and sharpened spikes and everlasting torment. To get away from me.

Paul: Oh. Of course. (gulp)