Learn to Love Again, chapter 1

A/N: Hello, everybody! So, if you remember my story "From the Frontlines and Back", I collabarated with the same person again, and we've started this fic, 1920's era, and infusing some Percy Jackson! If you enjoy the Roarin' Twenties, and Thalia and Luke, please enjoy!

It was February 18th of 1921. Pretty damn cold around that time up in New York. A man by the name of Luke Castellan was sitting in a bar. A black market bar, of course. Alcohol was banned. His gang had run the bar at night. And he got all of his drinks for free. It was half past one in the morning. He sat, downing drink after drink. 5 o'clock shadow was prominent on his face. He looked exhausted. Tired. He sighed softly and reached inside his suit jacket pocket to pull out a pack of Chesterfield cigarettes. He pulled one out and lit it with a match, sticking it between his lips and taking in a long draw, slowly exhaling as the smoke plumed from his lips. He grabbed the shot of green whiskey he had ordered and downed it almost instantly. The amber liquid burning his throat and stomach. The feeling was almost welcoming. He came here nearly every night to drink away his sorrows. It would all come crashing back down on him later, though. He didn't care. He could forget for a while. Tomorrow was Sunday; which meant he didn't have to go to work. He could sleep in. But the hangover would still be there. It always was. He heard the door open and quickly glanced down at his violin case which concealed his 1919 Thompson, or Tommy Gun. He could grab it and jump behind the bar at a moments notice if there was any trouble. He felt someone take the seat next to him, and looked over, almost shocked to see a girl with short dark hair who looked about his age. She plucked the cigarette from his lips and placed it between hers. Blowing the smoke back out into his face.

"What's a young lady like you doing out so late at night?" he asked, his voice thick with his New Jersey accent, which was a little abnormal, considering the fact that this was New York. "You know thugs roam around this time of night." He suddenly did a double take, he knew this woman. Thalia Grace was her name, and she was the leader of a rival gang. He blinked and swallowed a little nervously. The only reason why she would show up at his bar was if there was trouble. "Miss Grace...I'll make this short. What the hell are you doing in my bar?" he asked.

Her crimson lips curve into a dangerous smile, her eyes shining with malice. Thalia Grace was one of the leaders of the most dangerous gangs in the area. Her scarred hands reached into her pocket, and broke eye contact to make sure she grabbed the crumpled document. Last week, their gang had raided the local beer vendor and the amount stolen was a different number then the ones that were presented. She had to shoot two of her own members to get them to 'fess up, that it was the Castellan gang that robbed them.

"Well, Castellan," she began, her words coming slow to staunch the flow, "Last week, we stole fifty cases of beer from the beer vendor on 59th. The amount that was presented was thirty. It's simple math, Castallan." She folds her hands together, and looked at him, glaring into his one eye that was still able to see, "Fifty minus twenty. And I have claims that your men were the one who took it from us. And you know how it works."

Luke glared at her, his cold eyes shooting daggers in her direction. Her signature grin was annoying, but it also was enough to charm most men she came across. Even him. He blinked and shook his head.

"Yeah. We stole twenty cases of the beer you had." he finally admitted, leaning forward a little and resting his head on his fist. He unconsciously rubbed the long scar that ran down the side of his face. A sore reminder of his time as a soldier in the Great War.

"Business is a little slow. I assume you would have done the same thing, and I also assume that you can get over it." he said, smirking at her.

"I don't think so," she says, her tone staying even and controlled. But her demeanor was so much darker, and she was waiting for her opportunity. She felt a slight whisper of happiness when she realized her smile was even working on him, the famed gang leader who had been a soldier in the Great War. She had been a mere teenager at the time. He couldn't have been more then five years older then her, maybe four. She leaned forward, and snatched the cigarette from his mouth. Throwing it into the bar, she leans closer, as if she were about to kiss him, but it was more a intimidation tactic.

"You see, those cases were going to someone high above. And, well..." she slowly leans back, glaring at him with her cold blue eyes, the bar lights highlighting the rarely seen freckles upon her face, "Someone is going to get hurt if he doesn't get them. And oh, how we'd hate to see that."

The Great War had taken a toll on him. He was still very young, even now. Just in his late twenties. He leaned back as she snatched the smoke from his lips and threw it to the bar. He felt her lean in closer and he bit his lip softly. This was too close for comfort.

"They were going to someone high above?" he asked. "Well good for them." he snorted, rolling his eyes. What made someone higher up so special? Oh, look, another little special snowflake who wants his alcohol. It was all the same to him. "Looks we'll just have to see who gets hurt first." he said, scowling.

She pushed the stool aside, as she came to a standing position.

"Oh, you're giving me the honors of starting? Alright." she says in a teasing tone. With calculated moves she's been planning for ages, she grabs her gun from her back pocket and aims outwards, pulling the trigger. An innocent gang member who has been intriguingly watching the conversation fell back, as blood began to pour out of a pin sized hole.

"Two days. Twenty cases." she says in a hushed whisper, the entire bar fazed by her actions.

He glared at her. He couldn't stand this woman. He couldn't stand her and her teasing and mocking tones. He shot up as she fired her pistol at one of his gang members, and turned back to raise his fist to hit her. But he couldn't do it.

"Now that you've gone and shot one of my members, guess who's not getting any beer?" he yelled at her, angry. "Looks like you'll have to find someone else!" he ranted, and soon came to realize that he had no other option but to give the twenty cases back to her. He watched her leave, and looked around the room. He sighed.

"Go take him to the hospital." he said, pointing to their unconscious friend on the floor. He sat back down in his chair, shaking his head.

A smile decorates her lips as she puts her gun away, and turns to him. Her eyes glow in the darkness as she leans forward, and tilts his head up with her hand. A dangerous move, but it made it so much worse. "Tomorrow. Five 'o clock. Good doing business." Leaning back, she pulled her hand back and lightly slapped him, the smack echoing in the silent bar. Without a word, she walked out of the bar, the winter air making her breath turn into white mist. Turning back for a moment, she winks at the leader, before turning and walking down the alley, snowflakes beginning to fall from the sky.