"Life asked Death,
'Why do people love me,
but hate you?'
Death responded,
'Because you are a beautiful lie
and I'm a painful truth.'"
-Anonymous
-Ω-
Little known to anyone but the residents that lived there, Mercy Hospital had a senior center not far away from the building. Now, it said that it offered a safer alternative to staying at home without assistance, and that many of the people surveyed felt better in here than in their homes, but it was all the same. One could choose to be a shut-in in their own home, or a shut-in in an assisted living facility. Many would select the latter as a form of protection; people are there, right? People to see that you're dying and can bring you back. It's better than being left to rot in your bed and have your body discovered by a fuming landlord, right? It was all an illusion, really. People think they can prolong their lives, can have that one last push if they say yes to the nursing home, but in reality, instead of evading death, they are being herded right into it. Nursing homes are where old people go to die.
Jason knows this very well, has known it ever since he checked into this nursing home five years ago with his beautiful wife, Piper. It smells like what one would expect; old people and despair. People wheeling themselves around in wheelchairs or hobbling along with canes, living in their happy little illusion that there's not a chance that they might die in the next five minutes. He was entertained for the first three years. He had Piper to talk to, and many, ahem, "volunteers" came to visit him, including Rachel and Nico, who didn't seem bothered by the fact that they haven't aged a day for the entire sixty-eight years they've known one another. His friends were still going strong in their independence from nursing homes, but Leo, Reyna, and Annabeth were still old as dirt just like Jason was, though Calypso still remained as ageless as ever. Despite this, Dakota and Gwen rested in peace, making sure that the old gang would never be all together in the same place again.
It wasn't like this wasn't a shabby place. The other citizens were nice to their fellow old people, the walls were crisply painted in bright colors instead of those ugly pastels and flowery wallpaper that nursing homes usually had, and the carpets were cleaned and vacuumed regularly. The staff was pleasant, and every week a fifth-grade chorus came to sing everyone songs, and even though their voices were shitty, it was still cute as fuck. Jason liked visiting day the best, when Thalia's two sons and their children came to visit him and Piper, and he could do arts and crafts with them and catch up on how their lives were going. The only problem was that both Matthew and Mark lived with their families on the east coast, and they had neither the time, nor the money to fly back and forth to go to see little old him. Their room was incredibly spacious and cost little to no money, courtesy of Piper's way with words, and Jason was beginning to spend his retirement fund on stupid shit when they went out for shopping. It explains why an eighty-seven year old has a triple deluxe neon blue beanbag in his room that has no purpose at all except being there when his great nieces and nephews come.
There was no lawn, though. No outside. People stayed in and watched the city from afar, and the staff forbade anyone from even sitting on the bench that was just outside the front door. They either got out of there in the home's bus or in a hearse, which was depressing but in a way all too true. Jason refused to become a quote unquote "shut in", so he always had the windows wide open whenever the temperature cooperated. It felt nice to feel the breeze and hear the sounds of cars honking and pigeons cooing. He and Piper were happy. Tired, but happy. He tried not to think about the way Piper emerged from the shower young and beautiful, the makeup all washed off, while he still remained an old fart.
The boredom came when the fourth year began. Piper began to grow tired of putting on makeup that made her look old and gray, and hated bleaching her hair. Jason could only win bingo so many times before it became dull since the only prize was a pat on the back and a fruit basket made by Helen. Suck it, Helen. Growing old came with arthritis, horrible gas, and the inability to digest some of the foods he loved when he was younger. Twinkies? Nope. Cheeseburgers? Nuh-uh. All the good foods were off-limits. Piper seemed upset, too, but more so because she was actually young (in body, but not actually; she was trillions of years old, literally older than dirt) enough to eat these things and couldn't or else the other residents would think she's the messiah or something.
"I'm very, very old and I still have my period," Piper complained one night when she was sure that everyone had gone to sleep. She dragged out her secret stash of tampons from the back of the closet.
"Eh, still means I can get you pregnant," Jason replied in monotone without looking up from his online game of Sudoku. He was hit lightly in the back of the head with a tampon box for his trouble, and silence reigned as Piper retreated into the bathroom to shower and handle her lady's days. As one could see, there was something incredibly wrong with Piper McLean Grace, as well as Nico, Rachel, and Calypso. They were ancient beings, outcasts. Their identities were from a time of adventure and of thigs that he almost thought he dreamed up, from a time when fantasy became reality. When tall tales became truth. From a time that was so incredible that Jason set aside a few hours from his day to look out the window of his room. Sure, he was enjoying the view, but he was also waiting.
Waiting for an angel.
He hadn't seen Percy in sixty-eight years, ever since he launched into the sky on that fateful day from the roof of the Golden Swords' headquarters. He often wondered if the messenger angel with huge black wings would come back to pay a visit, but he knew that that was highly unlikely. Piper was a fallen angel, and so were Nico, Rachel, and Calypso. Percy couldn't converse with their fallen or risk becoming one of them, and communication with humans was forbidden as well. They couldn't go through all that hard work to get his wings back just for him to lose them again. He'd probably settled down with some nice female angel and had a bunch of kids while he flew off into the sunset carrying messages for Archangel Michael himself. Perhaps he'd already forgotten them. The thought immediately plunged him into a foul mood.
Was Percy so high and mighty that he couldn't even pay a little visit? He could just drop in to check up on them, right? Or was he too busy being immortal and happy and in Heaven that he couldn't be bothered? Did he have better and more important things to do than worry about the friends that had saved his life and his wings? (Granted, Jason was the one who'd chopped them off in the first place, but still! He made up for it!) He sat back in his wheelchair and dreamed of the good old days, when he could run a thousand miles and not be tired. When every single day was something new and exciting, not just bingo and Helen's stupid fruit baskets. When all of his friends were around in one place. When Percy was here. When his sister was still alive. He allowed himself to revel in his memories, since these fantastical ones didn't have pictures in the hulking photo album that he and Piper flipped through every day.
A faceless entity with green eyes, black hair, and black wings stood in for Percy, since the memories of the messenger angel's appearance had long since faded, no matter how hard Jason tried to remember it. Images of huge monsters and spread wings as he fought alongside his friends danced in his head, though he quickly moved on when his thoughts began to linger too much on Asmodeus, the Prince of Hell and the deadly sin lust that had tortured Jason to near insanity. Lilith and Luke's faces resurfaced, too, but the memories of them were shoved down as well.
"Watcha thinking about?" Piper asked as she strolled in from the bathroom clothed in nothing but air. Jason looked at her with something akin to worship, and she gave him a soft smile before she began to rifle though her pajama drawer, giving Jason a perfect opportunity enjoy his wife's deliciously glorious, sculpted ass. There were her wing scars, too, but those didn't define her. Not in Jason's book. She was his whole world. Even though she didn't age like he did, she was still the best wife that anyone could ever have. Ever.
"Oh, nothing," Jason answered, albeit wistfully as he wheeled over. "Just about how beautiful you are." Piper was clothed by then, and she blushed deeply at the compliment, despite the fact that her husband had been staying stuff like that ever since he put a ring on her finger. With Piper's help, Jason managed to crawl into bed and wriggle under the covers, and eventually the two settled with him being spooned by his wife, which would've bothered him had she not been so warm. Piper leaned over and turned off the light, plunging them all into darkness. The cool chill of a late spring night wafted in through the windows, soothing Jason's frayed nerves and making him feel less like an old guy in a nursing home and more like a young man with his wife in their first house together, despite the fact that goosebumps began to crop up all over his skin. After a few moments of silence, Jason murmured, "Do you still love me?"
"What kind of question is that?" Piper scoffed, and Jason could hear the astonishment in her voice. "You know I love you."
"Yeah, but I'm really old and ugly," Jason explained, as if trying to convince her that, no, she didn't love him. "I have wrinkles on my forehead and around my eyes and I'm pudgy and I have fuzz for hair and my voice is raspy and I have jowls-" Piper shushed him, throwing her arm over his waist.
"You're cute," Piper insisted, rubbing circles on his waist in a gesture of comfort.
"Yeah but I'm old person cute. Nobody wants to be old person cute," Jason grouched, glowering at the darkness in front of him almost as intensely as he glowers at his medication.
"Well you're not sixteen-year-old hunk cute anymore, that's for sure," Piper retorted, and the two of them shared a good laugh. "But you're still the Jason that I know and that's all I need."
"Yeah but you're super hot and can go marry movie stars but you stay here and act old just for me," Jason responded, allowing his eyes to slip closed as he concentrated on Piper's warm breath fanning across the back of his neck.
"That's because if I married movie stars I wouldn't be able to tell them who I really am," Piper replied affectionately, placing a kiss on his cheek. "Besides, even though movie stars have done awesome stunts on the big screen doesn't mean they've done it in real life. You're ten times the man that any one of them could ever be. You know awesome fighting techniques, have befriended angels and fallen angels, and went up against Lilith for God's sake-"
"Actually, that was the Watchers," Jason cut in, and Piper let out an aggravated snort.
"Will nothing convince you that you're good for me?" she prompted. Jason smiled to himself as he felt himself slowly drift off to sleep.
"Nope, nothing at all."
-Ω-
An angel stood before him, his form so bright that Jason had to shield his eyes, but he couldn't seem to pry his gaze away from the divine being despite the fact that they felt like they were burning out of their sockets. Wind was bellowing around him, hurting his ears at it roared and screeched, nearly breaking his eardrums in the process. He squinted through the glare, using one hand to shield his eyes and the other to cover one of his ears, and was astonished to see Percy…only not. It had Percy's facial shape and features, but it certainly wasn't the Percy that he knew. The messenger angel's skin was silver, gleaming like polished metal, and his eyes blazed white. Black robes billowed around him, the hem and cuffs stitched with runes that pulsed and shifted as if made of liquid. His hair was a shock of white, ruffled as ever, and if there was a way to look stylish when electrocuted, this was the way to go. Jason tried to call out to him, tried to ask what was going on, but his voice was lost to the wind.
Percy's expression was serene, an etching of runes tattooed across his face, right under his eyes, and they matched the ones on his robe. Then Jason looked beyond his form and his mouth dropped open. Spread behind him, instead of the customary ebony feathers, were six arching white wings, and Jason was dazzled for a few moments. Each and every feather was as long as Jason's forearm, the shapes of them mimicking that of a gull's, and the pureness and divinity of the entire thing made him want to fall into this Not-Percy's arms and be protected forever.
With a jolt, Jason realized that Percy was carrying a long, wicked scythe, whose sharp blade was in the shape of a raven's head and whose handle was wrapped in a bright red ribbon. It was the only color in the entire image in front of him, and Jason made the chilling comparison to blood as it thrashed in the wind, the frayed edges like splatters of crimson.
"Your time has come, Jason Grace," Not-Percy said, and his Not-Percyness was only heightened when a low, husky voice came out of his mouth that sounded way too hot to be Percy. He would've dropped his pants right then and there except for the fact that A) He was straight, B) Piper was the love of his life, and C) This angel, whoever he was, would probably fall from grace if he hooked up with a human.
"Time for what?" Jason asked, dumbfounded.
"For you to transfer to the next world," the angel replied matter-of-factly. Jason's heart dropped like a leaden ball, and he screwed his eyes shut as if this would all go away.
"H-h-how?"
"I'm going to take you there," Not-Percy replied, his voice sounding more soothing by the minute. He wanted to go with him. He really did. "Do not fear. I will make sure your transition is safe. I've tried to assume the form of one of your closest angelic friends for optimum comfort."
"No, how am I going to die?" Jason asked hoarsely. "My wife...she's sleeping right next to me. She'll be heartbroken and I'll never see her again in Heaven because she's a fallen angel-"
"Hush, child," Not-Percy murmured, putting a finger to his lips in a comforting gesture. Jason fell silent. "Many people I collect still have families, and it is very difficult to part with them, I know, but you must understand that if you choose to stay your soul will be trapped in limbo, and I cannot have that." He sighed, closing his eyes. "You've just died of a heart attack in the middle of the night." Jason choked on a sob, the joy and wonder from before melting into bitter hate and sorrow.
"So you're Death?" he accused, meaning for it to be mocking, but the angel inclined his head.
"My name is Azrael, and I need you to come with me. Heaven will not allow one of its bravest souls trapped in limbo with the undecided," Azrael replied firmly.
"This isn't fair!" Jason bellowed, and Azrael smiled softly. All of the anger melted out of Jason, replaced with a sort of emptiness. "You get that a lot, don't you?"
"Indeed," Azrael chuckled, his voice gentle. "Now come, allow me to escort you. Perhaps you'll be able to meet Percy and your friends Dakota and Gwen. Your sister, too." Jason's heart leaped in his chest as Azrael held out one hand. He reached out to grab it-
The angel screamed, his body convulsing, and Jason stumbled back, his arms pin wheeling as he fell backwards and onto his butt, watching in horror as Percy's face began to become crisscrossed with spider webs of jagged fissures, as if he was breaking apart, and Jason could only watch in horror as the Angel of Death exploding into shadows. He realized, with a jolt, that Azrael had been the only one lighting this place up, and he was plunged into darkness.
"Today's your lucky day, kid," a sleek, disembodied voice taunted. He was jolted back into the dream world.
A shadow fell over a wide-eyed Nico.
A scarecrow-like boy grinning, holding a mangled teddy bear as his horns dripped with blood.
Gwen and Dakota whirling around with identical expressions of horror written on their faces.
Reyna hacking down a creature unlike nothing Jason had ever seen before, blood splattering across her face.
Piper letting out a horrible roar and charging forwards.
Will, fingers trembling and his eyes streaked with tears, knocked an arrow from a bow.
Annabeth, her eyes glowing gold, raised her hand.
Percy in bed with a blond-haired main with skeletal wings, his body responding but his eyes looking dead.
Azrael drenched in blood, his wings secured onto hooks anchored to the walls.
Calypso scowled and swung her knife in a deadly arc-
-Ω-
Jason woke up with a scream, and Piper was immediately upon him, enveloping him in a warm embrace and hushing kisses into his neck. It was just a dream. It was nothing. He was alright.
Jason thought otherwise.
Two weeks later, there was a knock on the window.
-Ω-
(A/N) Hey guys, my name is Iwovepizza and this is the sequel to Black Feathers. Chapters will come often since I'm only editing it, and I apologize to those who were reading it and were interrupted by my editing process. This needed to be edited though because I made some key changes in the first fanfic. Hope you guys liked it!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
