Hello! I know I've been absent for a couple weeks. Please believe me when I say I'm very sorry. To make up for it, I already have written the next chapter.

Five reviews gets the next chapter posted immediately. I've also made this chapter shorter because I felt like the previous chapter was a little overwhelming.

I do not and never will own PJO. Rights belong to R. Riordan.

After my "claiming," I manage a quick good-bye to my Hermes cabin-mates before Chiron ushers me to sit with Nico at the Hades table. Everyone else is settling down, grabbing plates and fighting with siblings over the food. I, on the other handed, brace my elbows on either side of my empty plate and lean my head in my hands. Stupefied at having another sibling, Nico stares at his also empty plate as though the white china is the most mesmerizing object in the world.

I can remember the happiness I felt at my first claiming. I was eleven and had just finished dueling Luke for the first time. To everyone's surprise, I managed to hold my own, and the contest came to the draw. I suppose Dad was proud of me, because, the next thing I knew, his symbol was floating above my head. The sense of belonging and family that came with the golden –glowing caduceus was over-whelming. I simply could not believe that Dad had bothered to care enough to claim me, and I was happy. But this time, Hades's claiming, felt perverse, as though it went against nature. Needless to say, I am beyond pissed.

I simmer in my anger for several long minutes, but all around us, other tables are standing and lining up in front of the coal brazier to make their offerings to the gods. Noticing this, I nudge Nico with my elbow, and he looks around briefly before he and I quickly pile food onto our own plates and scurry into line. The queue is progressing slowly as each camper takes his time with the offering. Bored, I decide to bring my "brother" out of his reverie.

I cough. "So, Nico, do you know what, uh, happened to the floor here?" I indicate the crack that resembles a fault line in the marble. To my surprise, Nico blushes a little, although he probably does not know that that crack made me crack.

"That's kind of," he licks his lips quickly, "my fault. Some skeletons were chasing us, and well, I made the ground swallow them." Odd. I was not expecting the answer to be so logical.

Keeping my face blank, I respond, "Cool." The line is moving more quickly as the campers get hungrier, so Nico and I are now progressing at a steady shuffle, the boy inspecting me closely as we do. I wonder how he feels to have a sibling that so obviously breaks the pact the Big Three made about not having any children. Of course, he breaks it himself, but I am older than he; that makes two children very close in age by different mothers, which is a very serious violation of an oath on the River Styx. I do not think that even Hades would be that careless.

The demigod before us returns to his table with a plate so full I have to doubt that he made an offering at all.

Nico quickly steps up to the fire and scraps off some off his food, saying, "To Hades," and hurrying back to the Hades table.

I am the last one in line so I take my time with my offerings. I silently add to the sweet-scented flames the thickest piece of barbeque for my father with a prayer to guide me and a strawberry so juicy that I am sad to see it go for Hestia with a prayer to help me understand. Last, I make my offering to Hades, a small, shrunken and withered, brown grape that I picked out especially for him. I flick it off my plate with a forefinger and a clear "For Hades." Turning to go, I catch a thin tendril of rotten smelling smoke rising from the fire. I hope Hades likes it.

As I settle beside Nico into the bench, he looks at me with a mixture of confusion, irritance, and awe.

"What," he says to me in an undertone, "was that for?"

I smile. "Oh, just a little disagreement we had on the way down here." The irritance is gone from his face, as though I have answered one of his questions (which I have), but confusion and awe remain.

He raises his eyebrows. "You've met him already?"

I nod and take a bite of my brisket, savoring the sweet sauce layered on the juicy meat- my first meal. That effectively ends our conversation, so we promptly employ ourselves in the eating of dinner.

At the end of supper Mr.D stands up from where he was previously sitting at Table Twelve (at least I still think it's Table Twelve, but I can't be sure with the all the new tables) between Chiron and a plump, blonde boy and from where he was glaring simultaneously at his glass of Diet Coca-Cola and me- the Coke because it had the audacity to not be alcohol and me because, well, he looks at everyone like that- to glare at everybody. The god looks just like I remember him: short, fat, curly-headed, and wearing a leopard-print shirt.

His eyes sweep the room as he clears his throat. "Settle down, you brats." The loud rumbling of voices dies immediately. "I've been asked by Chiron to welcome our new camper, Hailey or whomever," he shoots me a short frown. "so, hello. Maybe you won't die. Anyway, I'm supposed to remind all of you about your stupid campfire thing. You may now leave me alone." The campers cheer, taking his words as a dismissal, for what I assume is a sing-along. They rise in a massive, chattering, clanging wave and sweep off to the amphitheatre.

I follow behind everyone else, taking happiness in their revelry, so by the time I arrive, the campfire is already in full swing- well, as full as it is going to get. By the short, dull fire are a few smore-makers and some Apollo campers desperately trying to save the sing-along. They make up a ring with a radius of a few feet around the fire. Outside that ring, even fewer people mill about, attempting to make conversation with each other, and on the outskirts, a sort of apprehension or even fear is palpable in campers that only sit or stand in isolation.

I move about in those outskirts, not a little scared by the absolute silence that occupies the zone. I pass the Latino kid I saw earlier on the ship, but right now, he is not so zippy. He stands alone, muttering to himself about schematics and organic life forms.

Actually, most of the people I'm passing were on the ship earlier. I've got to wonder what their deal is.

A few seats away from the Latino boy is the blonde girl, who sits gazing into the distance with the same defeated posture she had earlier. As I draw closer, I see a paper plate holding an untouched smore beside her.

I sit down beside her, my hands braced on the edge of the stone bench.

I look straight ahead. "So, your name's Annabeth right?" Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her turn her head towards me. At first her face is listless, but as I watch, she forces a small smile on her face.

"Yeah," she says, "and you're Hope." I turn to her, nodding, and offer my hand to shake.

She does, saying, "Look, I'm sorry I was so rude earlier on the ship. I've just been," she pauses, like she's making herself breathe, "a little distracted lately." Her eyes, though, say that she is more than a little distracted. Their gray depths are equal amounts of immeasurably sad, almost insane, and determined to the point of suicidal.

"Yeah," I make the word a sigh, "that seems to be pretty common around here." I wave a hand to indicate the outer fringe of campers.

"Well, it's just that," she stumbles over her words as though she's unsure of how to say whatever it is she wants to say, "see, one of our campers went missing. Percy Jackson. He's been gone for almost two months now."

I agree. "Yeah, the entire camp does seem kinda worried about it."

Annabeth gives me a sad smile, one that seems on the verge of tears. Of course, I can see in Annabeth that she will never let those tears fall.

"He's done a lot. He's a hero. The camp counts on him. They'd all like to see him return," she says the next part slowly, just above a whisper, "especially with what's coming." Her voice goes to its normal level. "But, Percy and I, we've been through a lot together, and I'd really like to have him back- safely. " She emphasizes the last word strongly as her hand reaches up to stoke a bead on her necklace. The green bead is emblazoned with a trident and sits sixth in a series of nine. Gods, this girl has been at camp for a long time. I look left to see the first bead: a white one, with a pine tree- Thalia's pine tree.

I bit down on the inside of my lip to keep from making a sound.

The conversation makes an obvious break before I say, "You said your last name was Chase?" I wonder if she can hear the strain in my voice.

She looks at me askance. "It is, but I didn't." She examines my heart-shaped face closely. She should probably see something she recognizes in it, but I know that the dark eyes and hair will throw her off, not to mention the whole coming-back-from-the-dead thing. That is the problem with the children of Athena: if it's not logical, they can't accept it.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" she asks.

Gods, does she. I knew Annabeth from the time she was eight, from the day I entered camp. She was the cutest thing, never letting Luke and I out of her sight which actually ended up with her spending more time with the Hermes cabin than her own. I was closer to her in age and a girl, so we, instead of she and Luke, became the very best of friends. I taught her how to use the knife Luke gave her. I helped her plan strategies for Capture the Flag. I listened to her long to get out of Camp on a quest. I encouraged her to rebuild a relationship with her father and held her when it did not work out. I even listened to her worries over Luke, but, near the end, I do not think she ever got my subtle hints to stay away from him.

I cannot see that little girl with trust issues anymore. Sure, she's torn up over the Jackson kid, but she's strong and determined. Like she said, I can see that she has been through a lot, since I died especially. She's even older than I am, her seventeen years topping my fifteen when I had always been three years ahead.

So I give an honest answer, "No," because she, like everything else, has changed so much.

"Oh," is all she says, but she looks at me suspiciously. She watches for a few more moments before excusing herself, leaving behind her untouched smore in her hurry.

I just look at the fire. More and more I get the sense that all my ties to my past have been cut, like there is nothing but here and now. I feel strangely focused, somewhat like I have been squeezed into concentrated juice. Saving Nico seems so much more important than anything I ever was; this mission will make me, either restoring any good name I ever had, in the mortal world or in the afterlife, or destroying my name, and worse should I fail, entirely and making me rue my decisions forever in searing pain of the Fields of Punishment.

In any case, the dead party seems even more distant and unreal to me, so I stand, stretching, and resume my walk around the fire. I amble slowly, weaving easily around the still pillars of campers. Mostly I want to find Nico so he can tell me where his cabin is so I can sleep, but instead I only see a glimpse of Annabeth talking discreetly to the blonde boy and the goth girl from the ship through the lifeless party. Nico, apparently, is not the roaring party animal you would expect to be at a campfire- a quality we have in common.

Instead of continuing my search, I settle into a people-less pocket by the fire, now not much more than pathetic little flames on dull embers. I bask in the low, crisp glow as warm summer sea-air swarms at my back and breathe in the taste of wood and ash. Though I think of flames and Hell often, this fire is oddly comforting. For a brief moment, I feel at home, and I could swear I see one of Hestia's flaming eyes wink at me from the flames.

Comfort does not last long, though. Through the crowd, I can see the kids Annabeth was talking to coming for me. I hold my ground, deciding to let them come to me, trusting Annabeth as well to not send any hurt my way. I examine the pair as they get closer.

The boy is the epitome of clean-cut masculinity: well-trimmed blonde hair, clean-shaven, and muscular, as evidenced by his form-fitting shirt, which , oddly, is purple. Despite his appearance, or perhaps because of it, I am uncomfortable with this strong, dangerous, obviously experienced hero. He has an air of regimentation and conquest about him that does not sit well with me but matches his purple shirt somehow.

The girl is less discomforting, even with her deliberately dangerous appearance, but not by that much. The silver circlet on her brow definitely clashes with the rest of her clothing, which looks like something Nico would not oppose- a green day T-shirt and loose, ripped black jeans. Her choice in jewelry is Spartan: the one adornment she allows herself is a metal cuff on her left wrist, and I get the feeling that it is more than it appears. Spiky black hair intensifies electric blue eyes that can root you to the spot, eyes that the boy does not match in color, but in intensity.

I can tell that she, like he, is a very dangerous and experienced opponent. I would not want either one of them as my enemy and especially not both together.

I watch them warily as they arrive in my secluded little corner.

I thank Hestia for my brief moment of peace then look each of them in the eyes. "Can I help you?" The blonde looks a little taken aback by my forwardness but his dark-haired counterpart simply crosses her arms and purses her lips in consideration.

The boy recovers before speaking, very much the strong-and-silent type. "It's just, uh, we haven't met." I am automatically on guard from the sinister emphasis he puts on met; Annabeth, it seems, is more suspicious than I originally thought, and the two here are supposed to find out if I'm a friend… or enemy.

"No," I reply, slowly, deliberately, "we haven't." I pause briefly to weigh my options. "I am Hope, daughter of Hades." Just saying that makes me want to retch and rinse out my mouth with that lava dishsoap the cleaning harpies use. Hermes forgive me. "And you are?" I know I haven't given them what they're looking for, but as long as I get information out of it, I really could care less.

The two exchange a glance, and the boy speaks again, "Well, my name's Jason, son of Jupiter-"

I raise a hand to cut him off. "You mean Zeus. A child of Zeus," I emphasize before continuing, sadness tingeing my voice, "like Thalia." The girl to Jason's left straightens, her spine completely erect. Her eyes blaze with curiosity.

She raises a hand to stop that retort Jason is about to make."What do you know about Thalia?" The truth? Not much. I never met Thalia. I was the first new camper after Luke and Annabeth, and everything I know about her came from them. I know of her past and of her loyalty and bravery in defending her friends from death at the price of coming to her own. I remember the light in Annabeth's eyes as she talked about the good times she and Thalia and Luke shared. Eventually, I came to mourn her as if she had been my friend, too. If asked, I would say that the girl in front of me reminds me of the way I always imagined Thalia, right down to the torn-up army jacket.

I shrug, then sigh wistfully. "Not much. Just that she died, got turned into a pine tree, and got turned back into a girl." That seems to satisfy the girl, but now the kid sighs.

"Like I said before," he looks at me to make sure I will not interrupt this time, "I am Jason, son of Jupiter, yes, Jupiter," I receive a short glare, "and this," he indicates the girl beside him, "is my sister, Thalia, daughter of Zeus."

Woa. Head rush. Okay, so I never, and I mean never, thought that I would ever meet the Thalia: Pine Tree of Camp-Half Blood. Come on, she was a pine tree! But, why am I even surprised anymore? Nico did tell me this morning that she had been de-tree-ified, and, now, here she is. It's good to see a friend, even one who doesn't know me, return to live life again. It seems to be treating her just fine, too. She looks good, with an almost silvery glow. But as glad as I am to see her, my mind has seized on another, slightly more important, detail.

Like that face that Jason made sure to distinguish between Jupiter and Zeus, as if they were two separate beings. At that moment, realizations crash down on me. Greek and Roman empires mean Greek and Roman gods mean… Oh gods! Greek and Roman demigods. Jason's shirt. Jackson's absence. Two camps. What the hell were the gods thinking?

I look at Jason sadly. "Percy Jackson's at the Roman camp, isn't he?"

I am now receiving open stares from the two. "Um, yes," admits Jason.

"And that's what the ship's for?"

More stares and an "Um, yeah," from the boy.

"Any more space?" I wonder if this is why Hades sent me to protect Nico. If he's going on this, then I can only imagine the danger he'll be in. Just Jason gives me the heeby-jeebies, but an entire camp of well-organized and ruthless Romans?

Thalia steps in, probably because it is not in her nature to let someone do all the talking- and Jason's still being a little slow. "No," she says, "The ship's not that big to begin with, and we're taking most of the Hephaestus and Apollo cabins and as much of the Ares cabin as is safe for any chance of diplomacy. After that, we've got a few scattered volunteers, who don't mind going to almost certain death. All that's not to mention how much room pegasi take up." She fixes me with her eyes. "We're trying to maintain a balance between a diplomatic mission and a fighting force. We'd rather not scare them with numbers, but we need to have enough campers if it comes down to fighting. So, no, no room for you."

The words she speaks are true enough, but I get the sense that she doesn't want me along, anyway. To her, I'm probably some green camper, and a meddlesome one at that.

So I ask, "Is Nico going?" because that is the answer I wanted to hear in the first place.

They look at me with curiosity, or maybe pity, although for whom I do not know. "No," Thalia answers.

I nod. Not going is fine by me. If I don't have to tangle with Romans, then that's all the better, although I hope that Jackson gets out okay, for Annabeth's sake.

As I am nodding, Nico sneaks up out of the twilight-blue shadows. I jump, getting a one raised eyebrow each from Jason and Thalia and a smirk from Nico.

"Hey, guys," he says roughly.

Jason returns the greeting as Thalia inclines her head, acknowledging, "Nico."

He looks over her way. A real smile breaks over his young face right then "Hey, Thalia. Always good to see you."The smile fades as he looks over to me. "Look, Hope, I'm getting ready to turn in. Just though I should show you where the cabin is."

His eyes question me, and I say, "Yeah. 'Night, guys," and Nico and I turn towards the cabins and set off. It is just a little stroll, but Nico looks a little tired.

Awkward place to stop, isn't it? It was the best I could do without dishing out a chapter longer than ten pages.

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