A/N: I had to lie down after writing this chapter. I don't do angst so well, guys. I'm not built for it. Plus, Nico is just so… hnnn. (Lies down.)

"Oh, don't be like that. Open your eyes."

Slowly, tentatively, Nico raised his head. He was standing in the middle of a dark street with a single lit lamppost. The air had a familiar scent to it, but Nico couldn't quite remember why. It was cold and breezy, not nearly as warm as it had been in New Rome. Fat, lazy snowflakes drifted through the air and joined the slushy mess on the ground before it melted. There were rows of houses lined up on either side, all dimly lit, and Nico could hear the faint sound of music coming from the one on his right. A knot formed in Nico's throat, his eyes widened, and it felt like someone had punched him in the gut. "Where… where are we?"

"Don't recognize the place?" Apollo hummed. "Guess it's been a while. Today is Christmas Eve 1939."

Nico spun around to gape at the god beside him. "What…?"

Apollo shrugged. "Well, I mean, we're not really there. This is more of a memory-link thing via Hypnos's network. You know, it doesn't even really matter. We're in Venice, Italy. December the twenty-fourth 1939."

A sudden chill possessed Nico that had nothing to do with the wind whirling past his ears. He immediately turned away from the homes and stomped in the opposite direction. "I don't want to be here. Take me back."

Apollo just sighed. "Can't go that way," he sang, bouncing on his feet.

"Watch me," Nico started to say but suddenly ran into something solid. He blinked and cautiously raised a hand. It felt like a wall was there, but he couldn't see anything.

"It's as far as you can remember," the sun god said simply. "You can't go any further back."

Nico scowled and spun around, nearly slipping on a bit of wet snow. "What was the point of bringing me here?"

Apollo pointed down the street to a brightly lit house. It was clearer than the rest of the houses, which all looked as though Nico was viewing them through fog or static. "I just want you to look through that window."

At once, Nico shook his head, backing up against the invisible barrier. "No. Forget it."

"Now, Nico. It's nothing scarier than what your father is planning to give you for Christmas."

Nico sneered at him. "You expect me to follow you when you kidnapped me and sent me back to the last place I ever want to be!"

"I know you've experienced great loss here. I still remember how Maria's death affected my uncle."

"Don't say that name," Nico spat, crossing his arms over his chest for warmth. His teeth started to chatter. "Just don't."

Apollo raised an eyebrow. "I had no idea my son chose such a coward as his partner."

Nico's hands immediately flew to his side, grasping for his sword, which was nearly eighty years into the future. "What did you say?"

"Can't even face his own past," Apollo continued in a lofty voice, waving his hands around uselessly. The gesture reminded Nico painfully of Will, who had no idea what was happening, who probably wasn't even thinking of Nico at all. Nico felt something twist in his chest and he had to resist the urge to slide down the barrier and hide his face in his arms. "The way Will talks of you you'd think that you'd be some fearless, all-powerful god like me. Perhaps his trust was misplaced."

Nico knew what game Apollo was playing. The last thing he wanted to do was continue to be one of his pawns and yet…

"Will you take me back to Will if I do this?"

For the first time all night, Apollo's expression turned sympathetic. "Just go to the window. You don't need to go inside or even say anything. Just look. Just remember."

Nico stared down at his feet, folding his arms around himself again. He glanced back up at the brightly lit home again. He felt like the concrete beneath his feet were pulling him down, keeping him rooted where he stood, and he really didn't want to move. For a few stubborn moments, he stood there, lost in thought.

He never thought he'd find himself back in the 1930s, even if it was only a projection of his own memories, never thought he'd be back on his home street, staring at his old house like nothing had ever changed. But it had. Everything had changed. He just hadn't realized how much until he was standing in the freezing cold.

On the one hand, he really didn't want to give in to Apollo's little game. On the other, he knew the Olympians were stubborn bastards when it came to their plans. The sooner he would get it over with the sooner he could go back to New Rome and wait for Will. He might as well prove Apollo wrong while he was at it. No amount of holiday-themed poems and puns were going to make him change his mind about this holiday. He hadn't had a Christmas since… well since 1939!

"Well?" Apollo called over to him. "Just because I'm the Sun God doesn't mean I'm still not freezing my Jingle Bells off!"

And that was enough to make Nico's resolve turn to steel. He started to march in the direction of his old home, passing Apollo without a glance. The closer he got to the house, the brighter it got. Some parts were clearer than others, like the front door and the one upstairs window overlooking the street and the small garden in the front. It almost looked like a patchwork quilt, all of them glittering from different times of days, as if his memories couldn't all agree on one solid picture. It was disorienting and with each step Nico felt like turning tail and flipping off Apollo as he fled.

He glanced over his shoulder, but didn't see Apollo anywhere. The street behind him was darkening, fading out of thought. Nico had no choice but to move forward.

Taking a deep breath, he walked up to the sidewalk. Curiously, he rested a hand on the picket-fence but his hand went right through, like he was nothing more than one of the shadows dancing around him. He was reluctant to step onto the walkway leading up to the door, afraid he'd slip right through.

Suddenly, he felt a warm hand push him forward. He nearly smacked his head right off the concrete before he regained his balance. It was definitely solid. He spun around, ready to mouth off Apollo again, but there was nothing.

"Stupid gods," he murmured before walking forward. The longer he walked, the farther away the door seemed to become, and the dread started building up inside of him. It felt strange, wrong, to be back here, surrounded by dying memories. Even as he finally reached a foggy window, the images inside flickered and skipped like a broken video.

His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might burst. Nico took one glimpse inside before he quickly turned away. "I can't do this," he admitted out loud. "Is that what you want to hear?"

He felt a warm presence at his side. "You think I would waste my time just to hear that? I want you to prove me wrong, di Angelo."

Nico took a deep breath before looking back into the window. At once, a scene started to form inside. A murky living room pieced together, complete with a couch and a low table. In the center of a room, there was a colorless rug and three figures came into focus. Nico's heart immediately flew up to his throat and he choked back a gasp.

Bianca. She was there, looking more or less how he remembered her. Younger than their days at the Lotus Hotel, but her hair was still in a long braid with a sole piece hanging in front of her eyes. She was wearing a pale white dress, sitting on the floor as she played jacks with another boy with similar-colored hair and a huge excited grin on his face.

Nico almost didn't even recognize himself.

There was no way that boy was him. Apollo must have been playing another trick. He didn't remember ever being so… so small.

Nico's younger self was bouncing on his knees and attempting to grab the little ball out of his sister's hand, but Bianca held it out of reach. He pouted and, sheesh, could he still pull off that puppy-dog look at seventeen? Bianca said something, but her voice sounded drowned out, like it was coming from underwater. Little Him's pout deepened and didn't waver until Bianca finally sighed and relented the ball.

The real Nico stood outside, watching as his younger self as he tried and failed to play the game. Bianca laughed at him. Nico never took his eyes off of her. Then, he realized there was another figure sitting on the couch, watching them with a fond smile.

Nico turned away. "I looked. Can we go now?"

Apollo appeared at his side, looking into the window wistfully. "The Christmas of what was," he mused. "The last one you shared with your mother."

"Don't," he warned. Apollo may be a god, but Nico had never been so good at obeying the rules. He was pretty sure half of Olympus wouldn't mind seeing him knock Apollo's ego down a few pegs.

Apollo held his hands up defensively. "I still have more to show you. If you're ready."

Despite himself, Nico cast another look into his old home, watching himself play with his older sister, having no idea of what lay ahead, of what the next year would bring. Nico could feel old scars threatening to tear, and he hastened to turn his attention to something else. "How come it still feels cold," Nico asked hoarsely, "if we're not even really here?"

Apollo shrugged. "It's your mind. Perhaps you feel cold because you want to."

Why would anyone want to feel cold? Nico hadn't chosen to always be cast in the shadows. It had been his life. He didn't understand what Apollo was trying to get at.

Apollo seemed to sense his skepticism. "Ready to move on?"

No, was his immediate thought as he rested a hand on the window. His hand slipped right through, disappearing entirely. He didn't trust his voice so he simply nodded and their world started to twist and darken once again.

…

The next thing he knew, he was in a familiar-looking tunnel. It was dark, damp, and overall just downright depressing. Nico would know this place anywhere. "We're in the Labyrinth," he said. "Why?"

"Honestly, haven't you ever watched those corny Christmas specials on TV?" Apollo shimmered into view, bringing warm light with him, illuminating the dark passageways. "Charles Dickens ringing any bells?"

"You're Christmas Caroling me," Nico grumbled. "I got that. Just why did you bring me here?"

"Another Christmas past," Apollo announced theatrically. "'You fear the world too much,' son of Hades. Face yourself." With that ominous message, Apollo disappeared but the light remained. Nico hated to admit that he was grateful.

Suddenly, he heard a stifled sob coming from behind him. His instincts spiked, his guard set, and he spun around quickly, eyes searching for the source. It sounded again, louder, and Nico once again found himself looking into the face of his younger self.

Piercing pain filled him. He remembered this day. It was Christmas Eve, only a few days after the Winter Solstice meeting had ended and Percy Jackson had returned to Camp Half-Blood with a figurine and a broken promise. It was only a few days after he'd lost her.

Nico backed up until his back hit the wall – solid that time – and slid down until he, too, was sitting across from himself. He remembered what the younger version of himself was feeling. Lost, confused, alone, angry, praying to any god he could think of, looking for answers that wouldn't be given to him. Nico wanted to reach out and comfort him, wanted to say something, warn him. Gods, the advice he could give himself; a long list of "What Not to do."

"This is actually breaking my heart a bit," Apollo said, suddenly sitting beside Nico again.

"Merda!" Nico shouted, jumping in his skin. "Do you have to keep popping up like that? Either stay or go."

"Hey, I'm a busy guy," Apollo defended. "I can't spend all night at your pity party! Especially when I've got an angry son asking for advice every other minute."

"Will's been praying to you?" Nico's stomach twisted. "What… what does he…?"

"Oh, something about a grumpy promise-breaking elf, I'm not sure." Apollo twisted a finger in his ear. "Sometimes it's hard to hear him. He prays so loudly that it makes my ears ring. It's that supersonic gift of his coming through."

Nico nodded. "No offense, but your son is really annoying."

"How could I ever take offense to that?" Apollo rolled his eyes. "And he has some rather interesting things to say about you, too, you know. I'm just trying to help."

Help. Nico looked at his ten-year-old self, who was curling in on himself, collapsing into furious sobs. "You have a funny way of helping people."

"Same to you, Ghost King."

"What're you—?" Nico turned, but Apollo was gone again. "Gods damn it!" he hissed. "Why do I even bother?" Nico had no choice but to sit there, in the dimly lit corridor of the Labyrinth, watching his heart-broken self.

He took a deep breath. "It gets better," he muttered, even though he knew his words wouldn't be heard. "I mean, well, it actually gets worse first… but then it gets better."

A sudden ghostly figure formed beside the younger Nico, transparent and floating. Nico felt sick. Minos.

The former Ghost King peered down at Nico, and he could see the intent already in his eyes, the lies spinning in those ageless eyes. "What's this?" his raspy voice, laced with faux-empathy, rippled through the memory.

The younger Nico flinched. He looked up at King Minos in shock. "Wh-who are you?" he cried in a much higher voice. "How did you get here? L-leave me alone!"

"How did I get here? How did a mere child manage to open the… ah, yes. That makes sense. One of his children would be able to do such a thing. Still… to have such power at such a young age…"

Already, Nico's curiosity had been hooked. "What? What are you talking about?"

"You're a son of Hades, are you not? I can't say I can recall the last time I saw one. Alive."

"I… I had a sister," Nico's small voice cracked. "But she's… she…"

King Minos's eyes glinted. Nico could practically see the plan forming in his transparent head. "Well… why don't you just bring her back?"

The younger Nico stared up at him, wide-eyed and eyebrows drawn. "Wh-what?"

"Raising the dead is one of the perks of being a son of Hades. Didn't you know? You have great power. It would be child's play once you learn."

Nico blinked. "H-how do I do that?"

King Minos placed a hand on his chest. "I serve as one of the three judges in the Underworld, your father's realm. I understand it quite well. I could teach you how to control your powers. If you'd allow me."

Nico's eyes narrowed. "Why would you want to help me?"

King Minos grinned. Back then, Nico thought it had been comforting, sympathetic. But now, Nico could see the mal intent, the dishonesty. "What's your name?"

Nico glanced down at the ground, uncertain. After a few moments, he relented. "Nico. Nico di Angelo."

"It is a pleasure, Nico di Angelo," King Minos proclaimed. "I am King Minos, ruler of Crete, son of Zeus and Europa! I had this Labyrinth constructed thousands of years ago. If you can locate the center, you'll be more than ready to bring your sister back. What do you say?"

The younger Nico nodded at once, fresh tears building in his eyes. King Minos beamed and clapped Nico on the back. "Well, then! Merry Christmas, Nico di Angelo! Here's to a new partnership!"

"Stay away from him!" Nico – the real Nico – shouted, rising to his feet. "Stop!"

But the scene was already slipping away, changing once more, and the Labyrinth was gone.

…

Nico gasped as he was bombarded with light. It was blinding after being in the dark for so long. He groaned and rubbed his burning retinas, cursing in two different languages.

"So, when your sister passed so close to the holiday, you grew to despise it."

Nico groaned again, raising his head. He blinked as his eyes adjusted and spotted Apollo in front of him. "Just how is this supposed to be helping?" he hissed.

"I still have more to show you."

Nico choked on a bitter laugh. "Oh, great! I can't wait to see what's next! My jolly Christmas spent in the Underworld with dear old Dad? Oh, I'm really feeling the Christmas spirit now!"

"Hazel," was all Apollo said before disappearing once again.

"Hey!" Nico shouted. "Get back here! I'm not done with you!"

"Nico?"

Nico froze as the ground solidified underneath his feet. A room formed around him. It was small, dirty, and covered in McDonald's wrappers. A shimmering image of Hazel appeared. An Iris message. "Hazel!" Nico ran toward her. "Thank the gods. You have to help me. Apollo's got me stuck in some sort of dream-travel state. You have to tell Will—"

"Hazel? What is it?"

Nico stared in disbelief as his fourteen-year-old-self ran right through him. He shivered. That was not a pleasant experience. As his memory-self approached Hazel, Nico quickly remembered. It was Christmas Eve, only a few years ago, the winter before Percy wandered into Camp Jupiter. Nico had searched and searched for any signs of the son of Poseidon, his already twisted brain concocting a thousand different scenarios which would never happen. Even though, at that point, Nico had already given up largely on Percy Jackson it had still hurt when he disappeared.

Hazel was wringing her hands together, looking almost nervous. "I was just wondering… when you were coming back."

Nico frowned. "I told you to call only if there was an emergency."

"I-I know! And I've been… well the blackouts have started back up and I was hoping…"

Nico sighed and shook his head. "I'll be there as soon as I can, Hazel, but I'm sort of busy with something."

Hazel looked down, nodding. "It's just… I was hoping we could spend Christmas together. You know. Brother and sister."

Nico scowled. "I don't think I'm gonna make it. Sorry." He didn't sound very sorry at all. Nico wanted to go over and smack himself for sounding so ungrateful.

"Oh. It's okay. I understand. Just be careful?"

"Yeah. You too."

Both figures disappeared.

"Harsh." Nico didn't even flinch when Apollo placed a hand on his shoulder. "You shut her down pretty quick."

Nico shrugged his hand off. "I was… preoccupied. Percy had gone missing and—"

"Right, of course. Percy Jackson, how could we forget him?"

Nico blushed. "I never said I was proud of it. I regretted saying no the minute I said it."

"So why didn't you go? You could have shadow-travelled there in an instant."

"I… I don't know."

Apollo hummed. "I thought grudges were your flaw, not hubris. It's all right to let your hair down every once in a while, you know. Every few millennia I like to take a vacation to unwind. Few years back I went to Norway. Too cold for me, but it was still pretty nice."

Nico groaned and sat down on an overturned box. "I get what you're trying to do, okay? Just take me back already. I've had enough."

"Sorry, Nicky Boy, you're just not seeing the whole picture just yet." Apollo snapped his fingers and a golden lyre formed in his hands. He gave it a strum. "Will is starting to regret your fight, by the way. He's looking for you."

Nico chest clenched. After what he'd just been through, he would rather face his pissed-off boyfriend than spend another minute with his delusional father. He stared down at his toes. "I don't deserve him."

Apollo snorted and played another chord. "Well, that's not entirely true. No one deserves love more than another. It's one of the only things in this world that doesn't have laws or limits." He sighed dreamily. "It's beautiful."

"Oh, gods, I think I liked it better when you made puns."

"You flatter me. Anyways, we're only part-way finished with our little bonding trip."

"Bonding trip," Nico repeated. "Are you kidding me?"

"Well, I like to bond with all of my children! You are my son-in-law so technically—"

"I'm not getting married to Will!" Nico's face turned red. "We're not even twenty yet!"

"And I have the greatest wedding gift planned out, too," Apollo said. "You'll love it. It screams, 'FLASHY!'"

Since when had Nico ever been flashy?

Apollo grinned. "Well, you've faced your past and the spirits that haunt it." He snapped his fingers. "Let's try the other direction, shall we?"