Even the Lord of the Dead Needs Some Comfort Sometimes. A Percy Jackson and the Olympians Crossover

New York City, July 1940,

Nighttime. The city is lit up, full of sights and sounds and talk about the war overseas. After the long years of the Depression, things seem like they are beginning to go back to normal. Nobody wants to go to war.

In the back alleys and streets of the city, a man bursts out of the shadows, wailing in pain and screaming in anger. He's tall, dressed in a dark pinstriped suit; the midnight-black hair that was slicked back is now falling in front of his dark eyes, made all the more manic-looking from the tears streaming from them.

He's not sure why he's come here, to New York. It's not the farthest he could be from D.C. – and after all, didn't he want to get away from what happened? I should have gone back home, he thinks. I shouldn't have left her there…

But he didn't go back home. He didn't go back for her body either.

He didn't want to be reminded of his role in the universe.

Of how, in the end, despite all of his power, he couldn't protect his own family; couldn't keep the mother of his children from dying.

She is dead, while he himself is the master of Death.

The oldest son of Kronos - King of the Underworld, Receiver of Many, Rich One.

Hades.

A god with power over a third of the universe, a god who failed to stop the being he is a master of.

So no, he didn't want to go back home – he didn't want to be reminded of what he was, of how he'd lost her, the one woman who saw past the mist and really saw him.

He didn't want to be reminded of the fact that when he went back home, Persephone wouldn't be there either.

So in a fit of rage he came to New York.

As he stalks out of the alleyway, his vision slightly blurry, he sees a young drunk couple passionately kissing. In his stupor he stops and stares. The man has bright red hair and when he turns to look at Hades, he can see a pair of blue eyes staring back.

"Hey Becky, check this guy out," the man says, laughing into the girl's neck. "He looks just like Stalin!"

In the midst of her boyfriend's ministrations, the girl also turns to look at Hades. She gives a frightened little gasp and then laughs as her boyfriend kisses her neck. "Charlie, you're so dumb! He doesn't look like Stalin, he looks like Hitler!"

The man, Charlie, turns back to look at Hades and sneers, "What the fuck are you still doing here, man? Get the fuck outta here, you damn physco freak!"

"Charlie, be nice," the girl whines. "All he wants is a show."

"Oh, I'll give him a show, alright." The man steps away from his girlfriend and clenches his fists. "What's your name, man? Are you Joseph Stalin's kid or somethin'? Cuz let me tell you, you're one ugly mother-"

The man is cut off when Hades touches his shoulder . He lets out a blood-curdling scream of fear and falls, crawling further and further back into alleyway.

"Spiders! Oh God, not spiders! Make it stop, man, please! Fucking please, make it stop!"

"Let this be a lesson to you, mortal," Hades calls out into the alleyway. "NEVER insult a god." (Especially not when he's lost someone dear)He snaps his head towards the girl, "Where is the nearest bar? Be quick about it."

"The – the - the Rum Runner is just- just up the st-street," the girl sputters.

Hades walks over to a well-lit puddle near the edge of the alleyway. He crouches down and inspects his reflection. With a snap of his fingers, he changes his dark hair to red and his dark eyes to blue.

He stands up, much shorter now, and walks past the girl, whose face is more slack-jawed than before.

"Who are YOU?" she asks, her voice raspy from screaming in fear.

He turns to her, blue eyes gleaming with mad delight. " I am Hades."

And with that, he disappears into a cloud of black mist.

He walks into the bar, remembering his purpose for coming here to the city: to get drunk off his ass (which is something a god couldn't do with nectar), and , to put it simply, fuck his brains out. He needs to forget, at least for a short while, the events of the previous night. He needs to, or else he just might snap completely, and then Zeus will really have some trouble on his hands.

Zeus.

He feels himself bristle at the thought of his younger brother. Zeus saved him from Kronos, but in return essentially took everything that was Hades's as the oldest son. And now he's taken Maria from him…

He's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't realize he's almost bumped into Dionysus. He abruptly stops, feeling relieved that he disguised himself earlier. He doesn't want to talk to any gods right now.

He notices that Dionysus is peering down at him strangely, but the god doesn't say a word. Hades feels even more relieved when Dionysus gets up and declares that he's leaving, saying: "I've had better alcohol in whorehouses!" Hades muses that this is probably one of the truer things he's heard this night.

He makes his way over to the bar and sits on one of the stools.

"Hey Red, what'll you have?"

"Rum. I don't care what kind," Hades answers curtly.

"You got it."

After about his fifth drink, Hades feels delightfully numb, so when a young woman comes over and touches him on the shoulder he doesn't even notice her until she's sitting on a stool next to him.

"Hi," she says. "My name is Sylvia. Sylvia Glick." She smiles at him. "I think you have really pretty eyes."

In his drunkenness, he gives her a lazy smile in return. She's young and pretty, with dark brown hair and eyes. It's probably the alcohol, but she reminds him a little of Maria.

"I've told you my name, handsome. Will you tell me yours?" She takes a hold of his hand and rubs the top of his knuckles.

His drunk mind sluggishly tries to think of a name that isn't Hades or Pluto or something even more ridiculous like Aidoneous, but something human – mundane. After about a minute he has an answer. "Charlie," he tells her.

"Oooh, Charlie. Charlie what?" Her fingers brush the silver skull-ring on his pinky. "Wow, cool ring!" she exclaims.

"Just Charlie."

She pouts a little. "Well okay then, Mr. 'Just-Charlie', would you like to have some fun tonight?" He nods.

"Follow me then, handsome."

No, she's not Maria.

Maria was never so forward with him. Maria was not a whore.

She glances back at him, her body language and face the epitome of sensuality. He suppresses a shudder.

No, Sylvia is not Maria, but she will do.

They've been fucking for at least three hours. Sylvia has already orgasmed twice, and she feels another coming on the way. Her hands are making scratches down his back, and in the low light she almost thinks she sees him bleed gold. After three hours of non-stop fucking, plus foreplay, he's barely starting to break a sweat. She's sure that her apartment is going to smell like sex for days, but that's fine by her. She's never met a guy who could give her multiple orgasms in one night. The smell will keep her imagination going for days.

He's moving hard and fast, pounding into her deeper and deeper with each thrust. He distantly hears Sylvia moans and shouts of "oh fuck me, Charlie!" and "you're so fucking amazing, Charlie!"

Of course I'm amazing, he wants to say. I'm a fucking god!

When he looks down at her, her expression looks just like Maria's used to in her throes of ecstasy. He imagines her saying, no, screaming "Hades!" and it's then that he finally comes with a shout of Maria's name on his lips. He collapses on top of her and nuzzles into her neck.

"Maria," she hears him whisper, "I'm so sorry."

She strokes his hair and falls asleep with him, all the while thinking, in her post-coital bliss, of who Maria is to Charlie.

When she wakes up in the morning, he's gone. She goes into the kitchen and sees that his suit jacket and tie have been picked up from where they were so passionately and carelessly thrown to the floor the night before. She goes to her counter and almost faints when she sees a ruby the size of her fist on the table. She picks it up and finds a letter underneath it, written in meticulous print.

Sylvia,

Thank you for last night.

-Charlie (The 'h' in 'Charlie' looks as if it was written as a capital letter and then changed to lower-case)

"Well, that was rude," she spits. "'Oh hey Sylvia, thanks for letting me fuck you, here's a big fucking ruby that I conned off of someone to pay you with like you're some whore'. Fuck you, Charlie."

She rips up the paper and sells the ruby for a few thousand bucks.

A month later, Sylvia misses her period, and she knows.

She's pregnant.

It's Charlie's.

Oh fuck, she thinks.

The date is March 21st 1941, and life has returned more or less to normal in the Underworld. Persephone has left to be with her mother for the spring, and Hades has decided he's going to stay in his realm to mourn Maria. He sits on his throne, thinking about her – about their children in Las Vegas, and how they will never, ever have a normal life with a loving mother and father, and he lets himself cry, one last time.

He doesn't know that he's broken Zeus's fucking stupid oath. He doesn't know that his other demigod child, Walter Joseph Kovacs, has just been born.

And he doesn't know that out of all his demigod children he's ever sired, Walter is going to have the toughest rode ahead of him.

TBC:

Tell me what y'all think, guyz! More gods on the way! I just had to get this outta the way cuz Hades and Mr. D are some of my favorite gods in the PJO series. Poseidon, too – I'll see if I can squeeze him in here anywhere. These'll probably be drabbles, with some connection between each drabble. Or it may be a full storyline. Idk yet. :D Tell me what y'all think.

Also, if there are any spelling/grammar mistakes (which I'm sure there are) I apologize. J