I
HAZEL
She missed him.
Hazel looked despondently at the mahogany frame of her stupid bunk. She couldn't get the image out of her mind; it was like it had been scorched into her retinas. Golden fire exploding across the sky, devouring every cloud, every spot of blue sky. The thrum of power being released, the energy of Gaia echoing like a chord on some cosmic guitar, reverberating through her being. The sound had been so loud that it would have blocked out any other noises; the shout of Gaia, the grinding of metal… Leo's scream.
It was like Sammy all over again. Sure, she hadn't felt that way about Leo, but still… she remembered when she had gone memory-walking with Leo, and had seen Sammy for the last time. That guilty look Sammy's eyes had held when he spoke of Hazel; the demigod was pretty sure that the same look was mirrored in her eyes now.
Maybe it was because she was a daughter of Pluto, but she could practically smell it. It was a dark, smoky scent; not bad, not good, just there, and it smelled of Mist and shadows and death. And worst of all was the slight scent accompanying it; a smell of metal, rust and copper, the smell of fire. It was torturous, because she knew exactly what it meant. Leo was dead, and there was nothing she could do.
Hazel sat up. There was no way she would sleep. She fumbled in her bag beside her bed and her fingers closed around three objects. The first was a torch, the second a pencil, and the third her sketch pad. She huddled under the blankets and clicked the torch on. As usual, the amount of light shining out of the end startled her. It was amazing how so much light came out of something no bigger than her finger. She flipped her sketch pad open to a new page and began to draw. Time passed with no meaning, and images poured like water out of the pencil.
Leo standing at the prow of the Argo II, his hair and beloved army fatigue jacket blowing in a wind that existed only on the paper; mouth open mid-word and one hand, holding a Fonzie, waving for emphasis. Festus was blowing smoke happily behind him.
Leo with his arms around Jason and Piper, eyes glittering mischievously, Piper smirking and Jason awkwardly pushing his glasses back up his nose.
Leo covered in beans, looking dishevelled and distinctly unimpressed. He had been holding a can of beans to make his signature tacos when his hands had unexpectedly lit up and the can had quite literally exploded, beans flying everywhere.
Leo with a finger up to his mouth, sneaking into Annabeth's cabin, wearing a stupid hat that appeared to be a cross between Mexican cuisine and a Santa's cap, holding a taco.
Leo, sitting at a table, his eyes looking far away and one hand on the table, fingers slightly blurred as they tapped away. Tap, tap, tap, always moving, always twitching. It had scared her when they rescued him in Malta, and he was perfectly still. It scared her now, that his fingers would be totally still forever. A horrifying thought occurred to Hazel; considering how he had died, would he even have fingers anymore? Would he have gotten them back in the Underworld? There would be no doubt that Leo was in Elysium, probably annoying the heck out of Odysseus and King Aeneas.
Hazel flipped forwards one more page. This one would be something she had never seen herself, but a wish and a prayer. She could remember with vivid clarity the lost look in Leo's eyes in Malta; and she could tell that he was heartsick. She had stared at that look in the mirror for far too long; at least until Frank joined the legion. She swore to herself then and there- she had let one Valdez die pining, she wouldn't let this one.
But she had. All of her posturing and charcoal drawings and demands of 'Spill' hadn't helped at all. He had still died, alone, and Calypso would be alone again. Hazel remembered the slightly ticked off tone of voice Leo had used when describing how Percy had totally forgotten about Calypso, leaving her on Ogygia after promising he would help her. She could almost hear Leo now; dang, now I've gone and done the same thing! Except I'm dead! I hate that about me!
She traced out two figures, side by side, and for good measure sketched in the fully functional Festus behind them. Then she looked at her creation. Leo and Calypso stood beside each other, holding hands. Then she stood up.
o~0~O~0~o
"Come on, Hazel!" Sammy laughed, dragging her along.
"What are you doing? Sammy!" she giggled in response, following the impish teen. Soon he stopped beside a small campfire. "What, you want me to camp out with you?" she asked in disbelief.
"No," Sammy said dramatically, producing a piece of paper and mock-bowing, offering it to her along with a crayon.
"What are these for?" she asked, confused.
"Write something on it," he responded. "Make a wish. Then you throw it in the fire."
"To signify it never coming true?"
"No, pessimist! So that the smoke goes up to the stars and tells them what you want!"
"If you say so," Hazel smiled, and wrote a quick sentence on it, then looked at Sammy. "What did you write?"
"Not telling," he smirked, before tossing the paper into the fire. It seemed a bit of a waste to Hazel, but she followed suit and watched the wish burn, and all that she could think was that it was beautiful.
o~0~O~0~o
She peeked out from under the sheets, turning off her torch. Nico was asleep, which was good. She slipped out of her bed, bare toes lightly touching the ground, and, slipping on some shoes, tiptoed outside. She walked, really hoping that the harpies that she had heard about wouldn't attack her. Apparently Camp Half-Blood had a curfew. She eventually found the campfire, which was smouldering quietly. When she stepped into range, it sparked to life, burning in a desolate grayish-blue colour. She breathed in, took two steps forwards and threw the paper into the fire. Golden sparks leaped around it, and for a moment the fire resembled a lit hand grasping the drawing, before becoming just fire once again.
"For Leo," Hazel muttered, before turning back around and heading back to her cabin.