Three years, a handful of months, a collection of long, snapshot-photo days.

Jason emailed Piper from every overcrowded, hipster-infested coffee shop with Free Wi-Fi! that they encountered. She never replied. He watched Nico tap his fingers on sticky tables and write scrawled bits of nothing in a notebook they picked up at a gas station; Nico never emailed anyone.

While Jason snuck away to call home on the payphone outside of some crappy roadside motel that looked as likely to eat them alive as give them shelter for the night, he felt Nico's eyes on him through the flower-patterned curtains of the room, even though the boy had supposedly been fast asleep when he left. Nico was anxious, those days, empty in a way that he hadn't been when Jason first found him by the sea. He refused to be alone, in the same way that he used to refuse company, and he seemed to be hanging on the coattails of Jason's sunshine the way he used to cling to Will. Only, Jason wasn't Will-he couldn't carry Nico on forever, with endless patience and a never-ending supply of . . . of what? Love? Jason used to think that Will loved Nico; he wasn't so sure, now.

All he knew was that he was reaching the end of his rope. He loved Nico, yes-but he loved his friends, too; and he missed the fractured family that he'd given up so that Nico wouldn't have to be alone.

Jason drove-on tedious, field-bound roads, and in hectic city centers; past tiny country stores and huge retail outlets. They stopped whenever they were hungry, or tired, or saw an interesting landmark or bizarre local fair. In one town, too small to have a name, they saw an entire festival dedicated to some obscure brand of soda. Jason and Nico drank can after can and, high on sugar, played ring toss games and rode the minuture ponies, even if Jason's feet grazed the ground and Nico couldn't stop laughing. Some girl threaded flowers through their hair, which just made the whole thing more laughable. That was a good day.

Jason was so keyed up after that, he drove all night, sneaking rabbit-glances at Nico, who was curled up inside his favorite sweatshirt and zonked out in the passenger seat. That was one of his favorite memories; the black road and neon lines swallowed under his headlights, with nothing but hushed silence inside the car, soothing the whispers in his heart that he was running away, that he was helping Nico run away, that he wasn't acting responsible at all.

The thing about being runaways is, you have to have something you're running from, or else someone chasing you; and no one missed Jason and Nico. There were no news reports of police searching for two teenage boys in a beat-up blue Taurus, no worried phone calls from parents or teachers-it was as though the two of them now existed in a world completely separate, a world where they didn't exist at all.

Jason couldn't say that he hated it. It was nice to feel special, separate. It was nice to monopolize his cousin's time, as if making up for all of the years they'd never been family. Jason didn't really mind not being missed; and maybe, despite his doubts, he wouldn't want to go back to his old life after all. Maybe he'd stay on like this, in a car with Nico, forever.

But then, Nico. Nico was different. Nico was empty again. Sure, he smiled and he had fun; he had lots of fun. And some days were good. But there was a difference between being happy and being whole, and Nico wasn't whole. When the happiness evaporated like the carbon fizzing out of obscure soda, Nico's eyes became blank; not sad, just blank. And that was worse-and Jason wasn't supposed to be making him worse, he was supposed to be helping him get better. He just didn't know how.

He kept driving.

Winter came. Nico's birthday crept up on them like a monster under the bed; and he surprised Jason by saying, "I want to go back to the cape."

So they did. They went back to the gray sky, and the blackened waves, and the creaky, drafty, worn out cape house that was still one little dirt path away from the cliff-crest and the gable. Jason pulled his Taurus into the same gravel-covered driveway, bumper inches from the peeling porch. A white car was already parked on the lawn.

Jason turned off the car, and they sat in silence for a moment. That white car sat between them like a huge, 1998 model elephant.

"What is wrong with you," Nico said softly, "that you have to always bring change into my life?"

"I thought that was my role," Jason said, watching his cousin's face for any sign of emotion. It was carefully blank. "You wouldn't ask for help, so I did it for you."

"I don't need help," Nico said automatically. His fists were clenched around his sweatshirt, and his cheeks were the grayish white they got when he was feeling sick.

Jason reached over him and opened the passenger door. "Then prove it, bro. Go face him."

Nico swallowed. Then he glared. Then, finally, all-too-slowly, he unbuckled his seat belt and eased out of the car. The wind gusted around, slamming the door shut and turning his hair into a black clown's wig of wild curls. He almost had to physically fight it as he made his way up the steps of the porch.

Jason watched him, from inside the warmth and relative quiet of the car. He felt like he was witnessing the end scene of a movie, with the turbulent sea in the background, with the white cape looming over tiny, dark Nico in the fore. This was the dramatic homecoming, or something like it.

The door opened. Jason could just make out the blur of yellow hair, orange shirt, black jeans. Like a human candy corn, he thought, and smirked.

Nico and Will talked. He saw their hands moving; Nico's quickly, as he spoke, miming his words like he did when he was excited; Will's jerkily, fidgeting with his shirt sleeve, his collar, his hair. He could barely hear the tones of their voices over the wind, which lulled and roared in nearly equal terms.

Jason found that he was nervously clutching the steering wheel; he forced himself to let go, relax. It wasn't his relationship on the line.

More talking. More gesturing. Had it been hours, or just minutes? Jason craned his neck, trying to see further, see more. It was hard-the images kept blurring as soon as he held still, making him think that he needed to get new glasses. Again.

It was pretty hard to mistake what happened next though, glasses or not. The two figures moved in sync, fast enough that, in Jason's eyes, one second they were standing on either side of the threshold, and the next, their colors were fiercely entwined in a hug. Nico no longer stood alone.

Jason's sigh of relief was audible, and he finally did relax, slumping back in his seat and leaning his head back onto the headrest.

Will dragged Nico inside, still not releasing him.

The door closed.

Jason waited a moment to see if Nico would come out howling; when he didn't, he took the liberty of starting the car up again and pulling out of the driveway. He'd stop at a gas station, he decided. Get some gas, and a few candy bars, and then head south, to Arizona and Leo and Piper. Yeah-he could definitely use some time with Piper. He hoped the offer to stay with her family was still good.

As for Nico, well-Jason would check in on him later. He didn't think that Nico needed him anymore, because in the end, Jason hadn't had to fix him. He'd just had to deliver him to the person who could.

"Does this mean you love me?" Will asked, eons later.

Nico fiddled with the guitar pick around his neck.

"We'll see," he said.

Will groaned.

(seriously, it's the end now)(really, guys, it is)
a/n-if anyone's interested, I've started this Jasico fic called the Winter Soldier and it's basically a Captain America AU. I feel kind of trashy touting it at the end of a Solangelo story :D :D. I wish I had more Solangelo to post but seriously this story took everything out of me. Maybe in a few(more)months but who really cares? Anywhooooo-thanks, everyone, for reading!