Haven't done a disclaimer in a while – if I do come to own Percy Jackson, you will be roughly 27th to know.
Leo ran up the steps to Reyna's apartment with a great sense of urgency. He tripped over the doorframe as he burst in, swearing and rambling as he picked himself up and dusted himself off, taking off his work boots and setting the takeout on a corner table without sloshing the curry. "From the front door, Reyna. I could hear them going at it before I was all the way inside the building. Dios Mio, no one should have to hear that."
By the time he had turned around, he realized none of that had probably registered – Reyna was standing on the back of an armchair, using a tube-y vacuum attachment to clean the air vents. She was listening to music from an antique iPod that was attached to the strap of her sports bra, and a dusting cloth was tucked into the waistband of her running shorts. Sensing Leo's shouting, she turned around. "You said what?"
"Uh, Jason and Piper were busy" He explained vaguely, trying not to stare. "What are you up to? You sure you should be working so soon?"
"It's been almost two weeks, and I had to clean. You could have brought them along to help." She nodded towards a mop and bucket in the corner, jumping down from the chair to turn off the vacuum.
"They were being loudly busy." He said emphatically. Reyna gave him a questioning look, retying her hair and not getting the hint. "For God's sake, they're knocking boots." He burst out finally.
She spat out the hair tie she was holding between her teeth, shoulders shaking with laughter. "Who the hell says 'knocking boots'?" Leo turned bright red, his eyes fixed safely on the floor. "What is this, the wild west?"
"It's a euphemism." He said primly.
"Right, since you're the poster child for being proper." Reyna snorted.
"You should talk, miss opening-the-door-to company-while-wearing-a-sports bra." He cringed at himself. Was it okay to point that out?
"I didn't open the door. You let yourself in." she reminded him.
"I brought you food. And your extra key is hidden under the doormat, which is pretty irresponsible."
"Okay, I'll hide it better and you can never again come in and eat my flan."
"That's cruel and unusual punishment!" he gasped. "Besides, you would've been too busy cleaning to eat dinner today, so I'm doing you a favor."
"I was almost done before you marched in with your outrageous Texan slang. It's simultaneously laundry day and cleaning day. Of course there hasn't been time to eat yet." She said, as if it should be obvious.
"Or put on a shirt, apparently." Crap. That slipped out before he could think about it.
"I can go put one on if you want." She offered mischievously.
Leo tried to focus on the air vent she'd been cleaning and gulped. "That's a trick question. There is no good response. I'm pleading the fifth." Reyna shook her head, suppressing laughter, and went to help herself to the takeout on the table.
"This was for you and Jason." Reyna guessed, opening the two containers of curry. Leo nodded, and made a grab for the box of spicy curry Reyna was holding out of reach, ignoring the milder one she had left on the table.
"I am not about to eat Jason's order." He insisted. Reyna moved it out of his arm's range and tried to open the rice box without tearing the cardboard.
"You can pour hot sauce in it."
"It's not the same." He whined. "It's – it's just – "
"It's gringo food." She finished for him. "Which is why I'm not about to eat it either."
Leo did not look convinced, but she stared him down. "Half and half." He conceded. "Go grab the hot sauce." Honestly, it wouldn't have made a difference once they had mixed the rice in it. Reyna muttered about being told what to do in her own house, and brought back a bottle of tabasco sauce. This sparked a debate about whether or not you could put tabasco sauce in Thai food, since it didn't match the 'flavor profile'
"Just shut up and eat, chef Valdez." Reyna ordered, waving the bottle in his face. "It's better than the canned beans and pasta I would have fed you." Leo complained about her inability to stock a pantry, but complied.
Once Reyna was done cleaning and Leo was done trying to help, they ended up watching a rerun marathon of the Andy Griffiths show. The plots of the episodes ran together, but they were too comfortable to turn it off and move. Leo had started off sitting on the arm of the chair, but was now under the blanket with her, trying to make music by blowing across the top of his half-empty bottle of beer. Reyna was tucked into his side, tense despite being on her second glass of wine.
"You know, your dogs were pretty scared when you got in the crash." This was the first they had talked about it outside of her physical injuries.
"I could tell. They were next to me every available waking moment." It was hard to hear her; she was speaking almost directly into his shoulder. Was he seriously projecting his emotions onto a pair of greyhounds? This was almost certainly the exact wrong way of doing this.
"Yeah. They seemed shaken up, they really like you." He glanced down at her; her smile was full of amusement. "As in really, really like you."
"Is that the reason for the constant supply of strawberry smoothies and guac?" she looked up at him innocently, finishing the last sip of wine.
"Okay, if you had avoided hitting your mouth and throat, I could have made you actual food." He could practically read the caption on this strange conversation: 'successful mechanic incapable of hitting nail on head.'
"How come you learned how to cook?" she asked, setting the empty glass on the floor by the chair.
"Well, the fact that I had to eat was a pretty strong motivator." He answered wryly. "I worked at diners and restaurants here and there."
"I thought you had to be 18 to work in a restaurant." She frowned.
"Not if you have a winning personality and are willing to work for less than minimum wage." He pointed out. "Some places would let me sleep there in the winter." He had never told anyone that – they took 'grew up in the system' at face value. Reyna knew it meant 'grew up in the streets.'
"I'm sorry."
"My mother would have taught me to cook at some point anyway." He shrugged. "Besides, better an off-the-books fry cook than a drug mule or something. I was just another disposable scrawny kid." She laughed drily at that, and told him that scrawny kid from Houston had managed a degree and a business. He blurted that most of his 'interns' now didn't technically have high-school diplomas
"Look, we haven't known each other long enough for my opinion on this to matter, but I'm proud of how far you've come from there." She took his hand. "I didn't know her, but for what it's worth, I think your mother would be too."
"Thank you. That was … important." Crap. That was the wrong word. "I mean, that it's important to me. That you think so. You didn't have to say that to be nice or anything."
"I worked hard to think of that." She pretended to be miffed, but her eyes were smiling. "I can't say anything to be nice. I'm terrible with explaining stuff."
"Me too." Leo grinned, and Reyna grinned back. "So can we make a deal to stop wasting effort on deep monologues when we can say stupid things and understand?" His hand had somehow wound up twisting strands of her hair.
"Like the stupid thing about how my dogs were worried?" she teased. "God, you are somethin' else."
He pointed the neck of the bottle at her. "So are you." She responded by playing with a button on his shirt. His breath caught. "So are we – you know, somethin' else-ing together?"
"I mean right now, we're drinking cheap alcohol with cheaper takeout, but if you're free Saturday evening, we can do somethin' else." She grinned slyly.
Leo blushed. "But I'm cooking. In my kitchen. Because there are foods in there other than beans and hot sauce and beer."
"I'm basically only here to sleep. I wasn't planning on hosting a seven-course Thanksgiving dinner." She said in her defense.
"We could." He said slowly, the idea taking root in his mind. "You know, a grown-up Thanksgiving dinner."
"Seriously?" Reyna knitted her brows. "You and Hazel are the only ones that cook. Piper is vegetarian, not to mention Native American, so I'm not sure where she stands on Turkey and pilgrims. Jason lives in a constant state of jetlag, so who knows if he'll be awake, much less hungry. Frank is protesting football on account of being Canadian, and the only help I can provide is sarcastic commentary and booze."
Leo laughed. "Hazel and I can manage. We can do vegetarian, and there's only the one white person, so technically we're all pretty upset about colonialization and racist assimilation policy. I'll spike Jason's OJ with redbull or something, and we can watch Pirates of the Caribbean for all that that matters." He decided triumphantly.
"Genius problem solving." Reyna grinned. "One more left."
"No holiday is complete without embarrassing alcohol-induced hijinks." He informed her. "And Querida, I want you to do the sarcastic commentary when they make a movie of my life." She smiled at him like that was the best compliment she had ever received, before pointing out no one had biography-type movies come out while they were alive. It barely put a damper on his spirits.
"Do you want to call Jason and Piper about Thanksgiving or should I?" Reyna asked, shifting to get up. It was a week away, but they could probably use all the planning time they had.
"I'm not speaking to Jason or looking him in the eye for at least another 24 hours." Leo shuddered. "I'm telling you, it was nasty noise."
She rolled her eyes, dialing Jason's cell. "Fine, I'll be the adult." She stood straightening the curtains, her face completely even, as Leo howled with laughter in the armchair, trying to keep a tally of the subtle and yet completely inappropriate jokes and innuendoes Reyna was making.
She really was somethin' else.
"Annabeth, do you want to explain to me why your secure cell phone is buzzing while we're supposed to be maintaining radio silence?" Thalia's voice was dangerously polite.
"It could be important." Clarisse said doubtfully, making a grab for it. Annabeth snatched it away and answered. The building at Langley was crawling with people who were very good at sniffing out secrets – and answering an unauthorized phone call while hacking into files and memos from a friendly nation they weren't supposed to antagonize in order to change information on a high-profile target was high up on the list of really stupid things to do. Forget stupid, it was probably treason. They had chosen to save Clarisse back there; this was the price.
"Leo is looking for Reyna. It'll take him a while, but a heads-up couldn't hurt. I'm coming, too. May as well be helpful." The deep voice on the other end of the line wasted no time with greetings
"You let him leave?" Annabeth hissed. Reyna clenched her jaw, not looking back from where she stood guard at the door with a tranquilizer gun in each hand. There was dust on most of the surfaces – this office had been empty for a while. Vaguely, she wondered if the agent whose office this was would ever use it again.
"He doesn't have so much as a compass on him. He'll be lucky to make it home in one piece." Percy reminded her. "This way Reyna didn't have to take him out, and I can help with this mission now. It's a good thing."
Annabeth let out a low sigh. Reyna could hear enough of Percy's words to follow the conversation. She kept an eye on the door and her ears at the phone with Annabeth, who was trying to be patient. "Listen to me very carefully. I'd be glad to have you, but Leo going home is not as great of an idea as you think."
"Why? Are they all dead?" Percy whispered. "They're civilians!" Reyna tried not to be offended by that. Annabeth snapped that of course they weren't dead, and glanced at Reyna in a manner that wasn't discreet enough to escape notice.
"What's important now is that you arrive as soon as possible. We'll finish this and go dark. This is the last we need to hear about this whole mess." Annabeth's voice was frazzled. She was the brains behind this op – it followed that she had information the rest of them didn't. The stress was beginning to show.
"Does the name Jason Grace mean anything to you?" Percy asked abruptly. Thalia raised an eyebrow. A thought crossed Reyna's mind, but she dismissed it as paranoia: it was impossible odds, and nothing about the two matched up.
"No." Annabeth lied, her voice clipped. Reyna began a mental rundown – the pilot had never mentioned anything of the sort to her, but he was the right age. She reminded herself to snoop in Annabeth's files later. "Is it pertinent to the task at hand?"
"No, it's just – " Percy trailed off. "I'm driving down right now. What are my orders?"
"Loch Lomond." Annabeth said quietly. It was a wildly disreputable bar in West Virginia, but more importantly it was a Scottish folk song, and the name of a maneuver the redhead in Data Encryption had made up.
"I'll be in Scotland before ye." Percy replied, smiling, and hung up. Annabeth quickly cut the line and turned her attention to the screen Gwen was typing on.
"The Greek NIS was lying to us." It was not a question. "They are harboring known allies of Kronos."
"The man from the wedding." Reyna realized, mentally slapping herself for missing it. She narrowed her eyes and scanned the encoded information on the screen. "He's not just the financier. He's running a parallel operation in Europe."
"I still don't understand why we're hacking into their databases." Gwen piped up. "We should stick to orders – wait for Kronos in DC and take out his operation. Krios is the Greeks' problem."
"He's linked to Kronos. He organized most of the major weapons deals in the last three years. Makes him responsible for a lot of blood." Clarisse reminded her. "And Kronos has started so much anti-government insurgencies worldwide he makes the French look like amateurs. If it goes through, he could take down the system. Globally. They're everyone's problem."
"Why would the NIS protect them? Greece is a target too." Annabeth pointed out.
"If I was a terrorist criminal mastermind, I would make a deal for my clemency in exchange for sparing, say, the Capitol Building." Reyna put in. "Think about it – Greece has so many valuable assets that can just as easily be pressure points for extortion."
There was a chill in the room. "Good thing you're not a terrorist criminal mastermind." Clarisse joked, knowing full well it was not the time. Annabeth pressed her lips in a thin line; drawing up battle plans in her head. Gwen switched strategies, beginning to scan for chatter in the criminal underground.
"It's a pretty good plan." Gwen acknowledged unhappily as she scrolled. "Krios stirs up organized crime, Kronos destabilizes the governments that can stop it. People turn to them and they swoop in"
"Lupa's plan was to go after the resources." Thalia mused. "Suppliers, shell companies, transports, middlemen, compromised agents, gangs, hired guns…" She looked impressed. Reyna's skin crawled with tension. None of these things provided good targets. She could kill Kronos and Krios both, but it wouldn't be the end of it.
"Just so we're clear, we're going to have to cut off Kronos's attack here and go to Greece to get Krios. Then what, we imprison them for terrorism?" Annabeth asked. "The negative sentiment and violence that's been building isn't gonna blow over in a day."
"Not to mention we're on a time limit." Clarisse added helpfully. "The second the UN council starts landing on American soil, DC is going to turn into a war zone." Annabeth groaned. Coordinating strategy with Homeland, the FBI, and Secret Service had been a nightmare.
"They put dangerous ideas out there." Gwen said contemplatively. "The cleanup on this one is going to be a nightmare of every type."
"So, ladies, how do you kill an idea?" Thalia asked, as if this was a coffee-date discussion.
"Kill the men that planted it." Reyna said, her muscles tense.
"Make it inconvenient." Gwen tried, eyes glued to the screen.
"Scare people." Clarisse offered, cracking her knuckles.
But Thalia had been posing the question to Annabeth – her partner in crime since before they had joined the agency. The blonde narrowed her eyes and set her jaw. "Prove it wrong." There was silence in the dusty office.
Thalia's voice was quiet, but her blue eyes were practically crackling. "The solution is always about the victim. We don't need to give them anything to fear or hate – we need to give them something to trust."
"That's real motivational, but damn near impossible." Clarisse said. Reyna couldn't help but agree. They were good at playing with trust for short periods of time. It could not possibly be up to them to uphold something so big.
"We would need a miracle for this." Annabeth sighed. "When it comes down to it, we're just stuntmen. We don't run things; we do the bidding of people who do."
"I am looking at a room full of miracle workers." Thalia said. "I am asking pawns to wage war against giants. I am asking because I think we can do it."
"It was going to be risky from day one." Clarisse shrugged. "Might as well go big."
"We don't have the time to run this by a dozen committees and get it approved." Annabeth pointed out. "If we do it, we'd be doing it by ourselves." She took a deep breath. "But it's more important that we get it done before it's too late."
"We would have to split up. And potentially raid this place for supplies." Gwen reminded them. "But hey, we're probably going to die, so we won't be court martialed."
Reyna looked unconvinced. This was the exact opposite of her job. She could topple a regime in her sleep; restoring one was different.
"I've been thinking a lot about heroes." Thalia said softly. "The heroes we had when we were young, the heroes we wanted to be when we grew up, the heroes we lost faith in. She took a deep breath. "And the fact that we wanted to be heroic when we got into this mess. And we haven't always been." She sounded much older than 32. "This is our chance to be heroes, to make up for the times we didn't have any."
Reyna nodded, her face closed off. If she could tell her five-year-old self that someday she would be a powerful enough woman in a position to make this kind of impact –
"We'd have to split up." She didn't know what to say to Thalia's unexpected monologue. "Three teams: Greece. DC. Civilian evacuation and PR. What kind of backup and weapons are we talking?"
Annabeth took over. "Reyna and Clarisse, I want you in Greece. Whatever riots and uprisings Krios is planning, I want them obliterated. Storm the damn Parthenon if you have to. Lethal force is authorized."
None of this was authorized. "Yes ma'am," Clarisse and Reyna barked.
"Percy and I will hold DC." Annabeth decided next. "I've made maps of potential strongholds and guerrilla positions. He has buddies in the Navy Yard, so we'll have support if we need it."
"You're good at this. I've done my job." Thalia observed. "You want Gwen and me on evac and press?"
"Read my mind. Keep the cameras near hospitals and schools and the like – civilian locations only. We don't need the scare to be bigger than we can help, so keep them out of our hair. Get people on trains to New York or Boston, I have people there."
"There was another agent in New York?" Reyna should have been informed.
"A rookie. A good rookie, if you didn't find out about it." Annabeth allowed herself a smirk. "You like her." She was back to speaking with Gwen about how the diner woman, the pilot, and the cop (all of whom could handle a gun, apparently) were a last ditch before Reyna could ask whether she had said 'you like her' or 'you'll like her'.
"About New York." Thalia cleared her throat. "Leo. What do you want me to do with him?" she didn't care – it was a courtesy question.
"Take him to the prom, for all I care. He's no longer a priority." Annabeth huffed. Thalia laughed wryly – she had never been very understanding about things like this. That stung Reyna, even though she knew it wasn't personal.
"He's an asset." Reyna reminded Thalia. She took a long shot gamble, knowing it was cheap and unnecessary. "So is Jason Grace."
How I do love to be dramatic