Disclaimer: Obviously I do not own HoO or PJO. I wish I did, but I don't. Everything belongs to Rick Riordan, who is clearly a son of Calliope, and the poem belongs to Robert Frost (yes, it is in the beginning of Eclipse). My copy of Son of Neptune is currently with a friend, and the Internet wasn't being particularly helpful, so there are a couple of things I may/may not have made up to compensate. Set post HoO.

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favour fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

So say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

Robert Frost

They do not belong together. They should not belong together. There are so many things that keep them separated.

She is all icecoldstrongdiplomaticepitomeofleadership. She is Roman. Her mother is a Roman war goddess. She is as proud as any child of Athena. She hardly jokes; she hasn't got time for joking when there is a Camp that needs to be run. She has hundreds of people looking at her for advice, for guidance, and she cannot ever appear weak. She is comfortable in silence, and has no difficulty in sitting in one spot for many hours – Senate meetings are a testimony to that.

He is all flameheathumourpeoplephobicprefersthebackground. He is Greek. His father is the Greek god of fires and forges. He has no pride to speak of. His default setting in an awkward situation is to make a joke – and he has been in many, many awkward situations. He only has people looking at him for guidance if something needs building or fixing – something that isn't living. He is seriously ADHD for demigod standards, and can neither sit still nor shut up.

He also accidently blew up half of her home, and she led a charge against his.

And on top of all of that is the ever-present Jason-and-Percy factor. Jason is his best friend, her ex-co-praetor and her sort of ex-boyfriend. Jason left her to be with Piper, and Percy decided to stay with Annabeth rather than pursue a possible relationship with her. Both Jason and Percy have led him at Camp and in battle, and they have all saved each other's lives.

And yet, so many things draw them together. Both of them bury their emotions – their true emotions – deep inside of them and refuse to let them see the light of day. Both of them are forced to wear a mask of indifference due to how they are perceived by others – her to the light heartedness of their situation, him to the seriousness of their situation. Both have been hurt – her by Jason, him by every female that has ever shot him down. Both have lost their homes and sought for a refuge – her with distance, because letting people close to her will only hurt her again when they let her down, him with humour, because if nobody takes him seriously he can't let them down. Both have felt like they do not belong – him on a ship with three couples and a slightly senile satyr, her leading the others to charge at Camp Half-Blood when everything inside her is screaming this is so very, very wrong.

Both feel like they do not belong. Present tense.

It didn't start out as anything worth noting. The battle in Greece was long over (or perhaps not long over, but they were back in America by now) and both Greek and Roman camps were reunited...sort of. Jason was the ambassador for the Romans in the Greek camp, and one of the Apollo kids was the ambassador for the Greeks in the Roman camp. Demigods were free to come and go between the two camps, granted they had proper authentication from their respective Activities or Camp Director (except Nico di Angelo, who was free to come and go as he felt like it). It was now common knowledge – common knowledge that had spread pretty damn quickly – that if you were a demigod in need of help in the West, the Romans would help you out, and if you were in the East, the Greeks were your friends.

Given the amount of pegasi that were fully...well, operational, getting back and forth between the two camps was enough of a deal that an exchange calendar had been organised. There were strategically placed exchange dates in the demigod calendar: at the beginning, middle and end of each month of the summer session, at the beginning and end of Christmas holidays, and at the beginning and end of the spring holidays. One of the Greek Iris girls, Jenna, had magical shoes that could transport her and whomever she concentrated on hard enough anywhere they wanted, which made her ideal for picking up stray demigods who had the materials to make a rainbow and IM her for help.

Leo had been in Houston late that summer, visiting his mom's grave and telling her stories of how much his life had changed and how different everything was and how he still didn't feel like he belonged. It hit him that he was out of drachmae to ask Jenna to pick him up, and he was a lot closer to the Roman camp than the Greek camp. He'd really conveniently been around to watch his sort of sister get claimed and explain the basics to her when he heard the fluttering of wings, before a startled voice asked, "Valdez? Is that you?"

He turned around, and saw Reyna perched upon her pegasus Scipio. She had donned her full battle armour and Praetor's purple robe, and regarded him with the utmost surprise on her usually proud face. Her black hair was, as always, pulled back into a braid down her back, and her face was slightly flushed from what he imagined was the exhilaration of riding her pegasus. It took him a moment to realise that the customary cold tone in her voice was gone. Without the coldness, her voice was warm and rich and welcoming.

And concerned.

He looked at her for a moment, assessing her presence, and smirked. "Hey, Rey-Rey. I suppose this makes her Vulcan's kid."

She frowned at the nickname, but ignored it. "It does," she confirmed. "What in Pluto's name are you doing out here? Why aren't you in New York?"

"Concerned about my well-being, were you?" he smirked at her. She raised an eyebrow.

"Not as concerned as I am as to why you are in Roman territory." The usual iciness in her voice was back again.

He raised his hands. "We're all friends, aren't we? Sort of," he amended as, impossibly, she raised her eyebrow higher. "Besides, I'm in Texas, and California's a lot closer to Texas than New York is."

She shook her head and snorted. "You're lucky it was I who received the signal that another demigod had been claimed and not, say, Octavian."

His face paled at the thought of what would happen if Octavian had appeared instead of Reyna. "To tell the truth, I have never been happier to see you before in my life."

She smiled – a small, potentially sardonic smile, but a smile nonetheless – and jerked her head towards Scipio.

"Come on," she said. "Scipio can take three people. We can accommodate you at Camp Jupiter until we can organise your return to Camp Half-Blood."

Upon landing in Camp Jupiter, the Romans welcomed his sister – Daelia – with open arms into the Third Cohort, but were hesitant to allow him back into their camp. With one of the Praetors backing him, however, he was eventually admitted into the camp after swearing up and down several times that he'd only go near a weapon if he was fixing it, and only then with Reyna's supervision. With none of the Cohorts willing to house him until his departure, Reyna allowed him to use one of the rooms in her Praetor's Villa, and lent him several denarii for the shops in New Rome.

That was as far as their hospitality went, though.

Whenever any Roman needed a weapon fixing and all children of Vulcan were occupied, they would be brought to Leo, who would carefully and not-so-quietly reconstruct whatever weapon was brought before him. He'd sit down to work, work for a solid five minutes, then get up and do Jupiter knows what, sit back down and continue his work, all the while chattering away regardless if anyone was there or not. She'd never seen anybody work like that before, and his constant moving around and talking irritated her.

He'd just missed out on the mid-August exchange, and had to wait at least two more weeks until the late-August exchange, or – Zeus forbid – the first Christmas exchange in December. Until then, he was stuck – stuck in a camp full of people that neither liked nor respected him (except Frank and Hazel, of course), stuck doing a job that he'd rather be doing surrounded his friends than here, stuck in a house with a girl who seemed Hades-bent on fighting with him every single day.

Truth be told, it hadn't surprised anyone when, barely an hour after she'd arrived with a new demigod and him, they'd been shouting at each other for all they were worth (something along the lines of him needing to take things seriously and her needing to lighten up). It became something of a soap opera for the campers, where the first thing everyone asked at breakfast was, "Did you hear Leo and Reyna fighting last night?"

It was almost expected that they'd clash. On top of their heritage and personality differences, they were spending a lot of time together, and there is only so long you can spend with a person before their habits begin to drive you crazy. To the camper's knowledge, he was the only one she'd ever shouted at like that; Reyna was more the silent-but-deadly type when she got angry, not an explosive, loud, flaming ball of anger.

The fighting reached a climax a week and a half after he'd arrived. He'd been giving her a commentary on how things were in Camp Half-Blood while building something from scrap metal, and inevitably turned to the couples at the camp. She was standing next to his desk, watching him as he sat and tinkered with the metal.

"Aphrodite and her kids must be pretty happy, the most couples there's ever been at the Camp is three and now there's about twice as many, what with Chris and Clarisse and Grover and Juniper and Percy and Annabeth and Jason and Piper still together – "

"If I wanted to hear about Jason and Piper, I think I would have asked."

As always, whenever Jason or Piper was mentioned, the iciness in her voice increased tenfold. The mention of both had her almost shaking in rage.

"Sure, but subconsciously you probably wanted to know."

"Not even unconsciously do I want to know. Ever."

He turned his head and looked at her in disbelief, his hands still fiddling with the metal. "Really? You don't ever want to know anything about Jason and Piper ever?"

She glared at him, her eyes cold and demanding that he change the topic or face her wrath. "No. Now shut up and keep working."

"It seems a bit strange to me that you'd never want to know," he continued as though he hadn't heard the second part, looking back at his work. "Curiosity's a natural human thing, isn't it? Well, after the gods gave it to Pandora, I guess. But what if they got engaged? Or married?"

He paused. "What if they had kids?"

Of course a child of Vulcan fails to pick up on social cues, she thought angrily, trying to keep her emotions in check and glaring angrily at the wall. "I'd be happy for them, but I still wouldn't want to know. That's their business, not mine."

"And you don't even want to make it your business?"

"Of course I – ugh!" she shouted in frustration. "Can't you tell I don't want to talk about this?"

"Obviously," he said dryly. "But you didn't have to talk about it at all. You seemed pretty content to let me do all the talking until I mentioned Jason and Piper – "

"Stop!" she shouted, but he paid her no attention.

"Have you talked about this with anyone?" he pressed on. "I can understand why people might be a bit hesitant on joining in on your Jason-bashing, but you should have a pretty big audience for Piper-bashing – "

"Aren't they your friends?" she asked him, turning to face him. "Why are you talking about them like that?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Sure they are. But that doesn't mean I have to like it when they continually piss the same person off."

He paused again, and stood up, facing her. "Look, I'm not good with real people. But even I can tell you just need to talk to someone."

For a moment, she considered agreeing with him. But the moment passed before she could fully register that thought, and she turned on him instead.

"I don't need you telling me what to do and what not to do, Valdez," she said coldly. "I don't need to talk to anybody about this. This is my problem, and I'll deal with it my way – "

"Which is what? Press down on your emotions until they don't exist anymore? I thought Khione was a cold-hearted bitch, but you definitely beat her."

"Should I employ your method instead? Pretend things aren't as serious as they are? Make a joke here and there, even if I'm in a life or death situation? I have people looking up to me, I'm a leader, I can't make myself more important than they are – "

"Yes, you can!"

"I will not make myself look weak!"

"Since when is taking care of yourself weak?"

She scoffed. "This is so typical of you Greeks. All of you think you're the greatest. You're so individualistic, no emphasis on group whatsoever – "

"And the Romans are better, are they? At least we know how to take care of ourselves, at least we recognise that everybody is unique! Not the way you guys do it. Oh, someone's died, have they? Never mind, press on, we're Roman and we do everything together – "

"There is nothing wrong with a collectivist society. And there's nothing wrong with me."

And almost as though her tone couldn't quite convey the message of this conversation is over, she turned away from him and crossed her arms over her chest, head held high.

There was a pause, in which nobody seemed to be breathing and in which both their hearts seemed to be beating abnormally fast. He finally sighed walked around her so she'd be facing him, reaching out and hesitantly putting his hand on her shoulder. "Why won't you let someone take care of you, Reyna?"

She brought her eyes down to look at his, and she felt the ice and anger in her begin to melt and dissipate away. He had never called her Reyna before. Always Rey-Rey or Preynator or Senator Rey or Prae-Rey or something equally idiotic. Never Reyna.

It was almost too late before she began to notice that the gap between them was becoming smaller and smaller, and even then all she said was, "Leo, I – " before cutting herself off and closing the distance between them.

To a boy who was always on edge and in constant danger of – literally – spontaneously combusting, she was like Khione. In fact, she was better than Khione – Khione's ice and snow magic couldn't touch him, but Reyna was chilled right to the bone and radiated it onto him. She quite literally chilled him out. She was like a nice cold milkshake on the hottest day of the year, like a dip in the lake at Camp right before the fireworks, like a big bowl of ice cream and a freezing cold shower after working in the forge all day.

To a girl who was always apart from everyone else – emotionally and, somewhat, physically – he was like the summer sun. He was better than the sun, actually, because instead of a warmth on her skin she'd get from sunlight, he heated her to the core. He was like a thick doona in the middle of winter, like the warmest flannel pyjamas known to mankind, like a roaring bonfire on the coldest day of the year. With Jason, she had felt a spark – with Leo, she felt like she might melt from the heat between them.

Hands held fast, even when the need for oxygen became too much. Even then, his lips did not leave her, because he had never been in more danger of exploding into flame, but he had never felt like less of a live bomb. His warm lips travelled from her lips to her jaw to her neck, tasting her like he would taste ice cream – in desperate need for something to keep him cool before he exploded.

To her, his touch was like fire. Her hands were knotted into his hair, and she couldn't say she cared too much if they never left. Both his hands were on her hips, pulling her closer, as though trying to devour her, and she had no problem with that. She had been frozen too long by her own bitterness and refusal to acknowledge her emotions, and she wanted him to make her remember what was like to be warm.

With a desperate cry, she pulled his lips back to hers, because if he did melt her into a pile of Reyna-goo she wanted to feel as though she had thoroughly deserved it.

Possibly several hours later – time seemed to lose all meaning, it could very well have been several days later – they pulled apart. Breathing ragged, lips swollen, foreheads pressed together, eyes half open, they simply stared at each other before he broke the silence.

"Jason was an idiot for letting you go."

They should not be together. She is ice, he is fire. They have the potential to cancel the other out, and their arguments feel like nothing the world has ever seen.

And yet, they create the perfect balance.