Disclaimer: I don't own PJO or Margaret Peterson Haddix's Uprising or the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory.

I apologize for this really long author's note. Skip it if you want.

AN: This story was partially inspired by Margaret Peterson Haddix's Uprising. This story is a lot more serious than my other stories and is the only one based on reality. The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire actually did happen on Saturday, March 25th, 1911. The fire was most likely started because of an unextinguished cigarette butt thrown into a scrap bin under a worker's table on the eighth floor. Someone warned the tenth floor via telephone but there was no way to warn the ninth floor.

The factory had never had a fire drill and many doors were locked to prevent staff from stealing shirtwaists (blouses) and sneaking out. On the ninth floor there were two elevators, two staircases, and two doors. Flames blocked one door and the other was locked. The elevator operators tried to save as many lives as possible but they soon had to stop because of the head. The fire escape collapsed under the weight of people trying to escape.

Sixty two people died jumping out of the windows because the nets set up by the firemen could not hold. A hundred pound person jumping out of a ninth floor window would hit the net with the force of a ton or more. After a few minutes firemen put their nets away.

The number of deaths was approximately 146. The fire could have easily been prevented if safety measures had been increased. The owner of the factory was acquitted and paid highly in insurance for the building damage. In 1913 the owner was fined for leaving the doors to another factory locked.

I hope this story helps breathe new life into this tragedy. Please be informed that this is my interpretation of life in the 1910s. I'm not going to stick to every way of life, sort of speech or popular culture from that time. So I guess it's technically AU.

The firemen, impossibly tiny down there on the ground, were indeed holding out their nets, standing there so hopefully. Yetta could have laughed at their hopes. It was not exactly a plan Jacob was offering her, not exactly a chance, in the nets and the ladder. But it was something besides flame.

Jacob bowed to Yetta, as elegantly as if they were about to launch themselves onto a dance floor, instead of into thin air. He would have been a good dance partner, Yetta thought with an ache. He wrapped his arms around Yetta; she wrapped her arms around him.

And then they jumped.

-excerpt from Uprising

The Fire: Chapter One

Valik stared open mouthed at the fire that had spread so rapidly from the over flowing scrap bin to the flammable shirtwaist fabric still under the needles of the sewing machines. He had often hoped, make that prayed, for a monster to come just to relieve some of the boredom of cutting stray strings off one shirtwaist after another all day. But the chimera had been much more than he bargained for. The factory was on fire, the puny buckets of water useless, because he hadn't been fast enough with his arrows.

Girls screamed and rushed toward the elevator. People pounded on the elevator doors but no operator came. The flames, as mighty as the monster that created them, bore down on the workers. The smoke made Valik cough. His eyes stung and tears flowed freely down his face. Why did I leave Russia? He thought despairingly. Because there were more opportunities in America. He answered his own question. If his throat hadn't been as dry as the air in the room he would have laughed. Opportunity. Suffocation by smoke or burned to death by fire.

People banged on the doors screaming for someone to open knew no one would. No one was worried about the poor immigrant workers. They could just hire twice as many to take their places. There was one way out though. Valik peered out the open window. He was on the eighth floor. The people who were watching the fire were as small as the ants that stole crumbs from the meager meals he ate each night. The firemen were spraying water pointlessly at the blaze. They had done one thing right though. Some of them were holding out nets to catch people jumping from the windows. He studied his position, and then he looked at the nets. It was a long shot but maybe he could land near the edge. If he missed he would hit the pavement. A one way trip to the Underworld. But if he stayed here he would certainly die…

A vice strong grip clamped down on his arm and pulled him away from the window. It was Alexandra. She was Russian like him; they had met each other on Ellis Island. She was also a daughter of Athena.

"The firemen. They will catch us," Valik croaked, hardly able to talk.

"Those nets will not catch anyone," Alexandra responded in perfect English, "You will die if you jump," she said grimly, her gray eyes flashing like storm clouds.

Valik knew there was no point in arguing with her. Alexandra was usually right, "I will die if I stay," he muttered. The flames were so hot he could feel his skin getting dryer and dryer. He imagined himself as a piece of tinder. Just another thing to feed the fire.

Alexandra frowned, "That is a distinct possibility. Dash it all Valik! This is why we should have stayed on strike! If we hadn't given in they would not get away with locking us in!" Alexandra had been one of the fiercest strikers out of everyone. She proudly boasted about being sent to prison four times. She hadn't even bothered trying to cover the bruise on her face after the police had beaten her for 'disturbing the peace'.

"It's too late now Alexandra," Valik murmured in defeat. He put his arms around her and she didn't even shrug him off. He prayed silently to his father. I promise that if Alexandra and I live I'll train harder at camp. I don't want to die. I don't want Alexandra to die.

Suddenly a hoarse cheer came up from the crowd and the screams in various languages quieted. Someone had opened the door. A vicious stampede erupted. To Valik it felt like a herd of Minotaurs had been let loose. Alexandra and Valik had to fight their way through the crowd. More than one unfortunate girl was trampled. Valik felt a stab of sorrow and anger. Alexandra was right. We should have kept striking. If we had this wouldn't have happened. If we had people wouldn't have died.

Halfway down the stairs toward freedom Alexandra stopped, "Nobody warned the ninth and tenth floor," she muttered.

Valik was struck with panic, "You cannot go! We are safe now! We should leave while we can!"

Alexandra shook her head. Her voice had the same steely determination it always had when she wouldn't back down, "No. Do you not see Valik!? They will jump out the windows. The nets will not catch them. No one should die that way. What about Eileen and Aiden? They are on the ninth floor!"

Valik had completely forgotten about the Irish twins. They had met at Camp Half-Blood the previous year and had become fast friends. It was too painful, the thought of them dying. Eileen was always so cheerful and kind. She always acted very optimistic as Aiden stole your wages right out from under your nose.

Alexandra kissed him on the cheek and tried to smile. She turned around and headed up the stairs, "I'll be back before you know it!"

***

Aiden looked mournfully at the ground so far below him. There was nothing to stop him. Eileen was safe. He had pushed her into the elevator himself. She would make it outside where the fire could not swallow her like a hungry cat swallowing a mouse. His twin was safe but he was not. There had been no room for her in the elevator. Eileen had refused to go without him but he had made her leave him alone with the flames.

A girl screamed as her clothes caught on fire. She frantically tried to beat the flames out to no avail. The fire ate at her raggedy clothes hungrily. She threw herself out the window in desperation.

Aiden stared in horror as she fell nine floors. She didn't hit the net. Revulsion filled him, threatening to make him hurl anything that still remained inside his body. There was no way he could make it. He knew in his heart that he was going to die.

He remembered fleetingly what Edward, son of Hades, had said once about the Underworld. "It's very bleak," he had said, "The dead aren't frightening. They're sad."

I'm going to find out soon. He thought.

He took at deep breath, "I'm sorry father, Eileen, mother. I'm sorry," he croaked.

He jumped. The wind rushed around him. The hot rushing air made his skin burn even more. He hit the net.

But then it broke.

This story is beta-ed by Singerinthesilence.