The world around him seemed to waver. His head was cloudy. Voices were indistinguishable while the object in his hand, an ancient gold hourglass intricately carved with Greek inscriptions, seemed burn in your palm.

Everything seemed to be spinning too fast.

Perhaps it was a hallucination that the sand seemed to be running faster than ever and the world around him was keeping up with this intense pace.

It was a mission. The last mission, that's what you promised your husband when you left him at your New York apartment and went out on one last call.

The sense of crisis feels even more oppressive. The air feels thick and thin before your head feels like it's about to explode and your vision finds the abyss in the arms of darkness.

A high-pitched sound is the first thing you notice. An insistent buzzing and the smell of antiseptic and ambrosia in the air. A familiar scent, bitterly deep in your memory.

The absence of her wedding ring is another point to note. And when she opens her eyes and finds the Camp Half-Blood infirmary, a place she had long since left behind...It's like the world is falling apart.

One of the campers seems to notice your awakening and suddenly all attention turns to you as Percy Jackson enters the infirmary accompanied by someone. Not the twenty-eight-year-old Percy. Not the strong, hardened man with the strong features and a brooding but gentle gaze. No, the seventeen-year-old with the pretty smile and playful expression.

That wasn't your Percy. Your husband. The father of your child. That was...the man you married in the future almost twelve years later.

"You gave us quite a scare. How are you?" He grumbles, approaching you with his faithful squire in tow.

Of course she would be there. Of course. The teenager still had a crush on Athena's daughter.

"{{user}}?" He calls, snapping his fingers in front of your face, seeming to find the lack of focus in your gaze strange. "Are you okay? I'll call someone to..."

His voice grows distant as his mind begins to race. His blood is pumping rapidly. His mind is racing. On the brink of madness.

The hourglass. That fucking hourglass. The explosion. The inscriptions. The final mission. Your son, your husband. The images of Percy holding Noah in his arms as he said goodbye to you with a worried look on his face, as if he sensed the worst. And gods...how could a fucking hourglass mess up your life so much in less than fourteen hours?

Your past and present memories battling for dominance. It was hard to match that worried Percy to the protective and loyal husband who had married you. The same man who was her husband was now just a friend with a teenage crush on...someone else.

He wasn't your Percy. He was your Percy. He wasn't your husband. He was your husband. He...

Gods, save her.