we could walk straight through hell (with a smile)

by seaweedbraens

The titans have won the war, the child of the prophecy was killed, and what remains of the demigod alliance is hidden underground. Many believe that the great prophecy was false, and that another will be revealed in time, but the sudden introduction of a new face throws everything into question all over again. [canon divergence, canon pairings]

2. and over the walls i have wended

a/n:

before you start reading (h you poor poor thing, why are you reading this) i would like to clarify that this fic is set in the canon universe, but a lot of little things aren't the same - percy is younger than jason, hazel's been aged up etc. any/all changes to canon in this fic is done very, very intentionally. just go with it!

and i apologize about the word count. like...really. im so sorry omg

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ii. and over the walls i have wended

/

Leo's always rather enjoyed these little get-togethers, even though they are becoming less and less of the 'Let's gather 'round the fireplace and reminisce the tales of our youth' and more of the 'What's our plan to not die this time?' kinda meetings.

Bunker One never fails to make him gawk – Leo always tries for a dramatic gasp whenever they enter, half of which is for show (which Annabeth seems to pick up on at once, and she makes sure to roll her eyes at him every time), but the other half of it really is born out of the sense of pure respect that the Bunker tends to inspire in all that dare to step inside it.

King of the Bunkers, One can probably fit the entirety of Bunker Nine and then some. Everything about the place screams royalty, right down to the high ceiling and the white-gold braziers mounted on the wall (they're stuck there, Leo's checked). It really is a beautiful place, though slightly musty, since it's the closest Bunker to New York and nobody really uses it anymore. In the months leading to the War, Bunker One had reminded Leo or an airport: bustling with activity, constantly admitting and bidding goodbye to members of their alliance – but now it acts as their headquarters, a meeting place for all the Bunker seniors whenever they need to get shit done.

Leo, Jason, Piper, Annabeth, Grover, and Percy arrive right in the middle of everyone else, which is perfect, because it falls in the safe zone of Annabeth wanting to be abnormally early and Leo wanting to be fashionably late. The early birds – the other Athena seniors, obviously, plus a few others like Beckendorf, Silena, Travis, and Connor – have already gathered by the fire pit and have taken the best cushions, fucking cheaters.

Jake, who's been helping out at Bunker Seven, walks in with Will Solace, who still looks annoyingly radiant, and Michael Yew, who still does not. Jake grins and waves at Leo, leaving Will in the middle of a sentence in favor of jogging up to him and giving him a big hug. Leo stumbles backward under the force of it, laughing – he's missed his brother.

Jake claps him on the shoulder when he finally lets go. He grins around at them all, nodding at their hellos and sticking a hand out to Percy, who, though visibly surprised, shakes it.

"New face, that's rare these days," Jake says, smiling. "What's your name?"

"Percy," says Percy, relaxing. He'd probably been expecting a who's your godly parent type question, but Jake had probably sensed his discomfort. He's nice that way - he's always been far more attuned to people's state of mind – he gets humans far more than Leo does, which makes him such a good mechanic. When he'd got to Bunker Nine, Leo had first been wary of all these kids of different races and ethnicities and ages and genders who claimed to be his half-siblings, but Jake was the first one whom Leo began to really see as a brother. He had mentored Leo for several months after his initiation into the Bunkers, and Leo will forever be grateful for how well he'd handled him. He'd been indulgent of Leo's shitty jokes (they'd only been shitty back then, mind you: they're way better now) and firm when he needed to be. Leo's since been assigned to guide some of the younger kids and he'd flopped at it completely. The experience had taught him that he was not meant to be a teacher in any manner, shape, or form, but it had given him a whole new appreciation for Jake Mason.

Jake throws an arm around Leo's shoulders and drags him into a conversation about a flying drone he's been thinking about building (shaped like the USS Enterprise) as they make their way to the rest of the demigods. Malcolm throws himself onto Annabeth at once, and some of the Bunker Ten kids, who have just arrived, shriek when they spot Piper. Leo's just glad Drew hasn't made an appearance – she really gives the rest of her siblings a bad name by living up to the whole 'I'm pretty, so I don't need to be smart' stereotype. For gods' sake, the girl had once called the swan – Aphrodite's sacred fucking animal – an albino duck.

Caught up in the middle of a massive reunion, Percy looks uncomfortable, obviously not knowing anyone, but Jason takes pity on him and drags him away to talk to Travis and Connor.

The two Big Three kids look like death. They'd been silent the entire journey here – meaning a couple of hours – and Jason still looks somewhat sick to his stomach. Percy merely looks like he's swallowed something bitter, but maybe he's just better at hiding his emotions.

Leo feels bad for them. He's been very much coasting by all these years and he's glad for it – he can't even begin to think about how he'd deal if he was the Hero Meant To Save Their World. He would probably just make a run for it, to be honest.

Still, though, Percy and Jason radiate this silent power even by just standing there. Jason laughs lightly at something Percy says. Percy smiles and twirls his sword absentmindedly in his hand. They both look effortlessly good-looking and strong and reliable, and it pisses Leo off.

Jake follows his line of sight. "The new kid a good sort?"

"He's cool," Leo says truthfully, because Percy really does seem like a cool guy, despite the whole wet-crotch prank. He doesn't know much about the dude, of course, but both Annabeth and Jason vouch for him, and that automatically enters the son of Poseidon into his good books.

Maya, one of the senior demigods of Hecate, struts past him to hail Annabeth, dark hair flicking behind her, and Leo momentarily loses track of what he'd been thinking. Jake rolls his eyes, and Piper, who's finally managed to shake off Lacey and her incessant questions about Percy, sidles up to his side, only to flick him in the forehead.

"What the hell," Leo exclaims, rubbing the sore spot and pushing Piper away to make sure she knows that her action had been extremely unwarranted. "I didn't even hit on her this time. Can't I just appreciate the aesthetic of the human form?"

"Cute way of saying you were ogling her ass," Piper says.

"Like you weren't," Leo shoots back. Piper only grins, shameless.

"I have a boyfriend," she says, mock-affronted. "I would never."

"Leo, last time Maya caught you doing that she enchanted your hair and turned it bubblegum pink," Jake reminds him.

"I rocked that," Leo says defiantly, even as Piper says, "You looked like a tool."

"Oh, remember that girl in our class? Tammi or some shit?" Leo heaves a longing sigh just because he knows the girl had been Piper's sworn enemy.

Piper growls. "Tammi was a bitch."

"She was exactly your type," Leo says. "Blonde hair? Blue eyes? Helloooo? Ring any bells?"

"Too bad she was a bitch," Piper scoffs and crosses her arms.

"She was the prettiest girl in class, it was distracting," Leo informs Jake. "I almost failed like, three subjects because of her."

"No, you almost failed because you're just stupid," Jake responds dryly, and they all laugh.

Jason and Percy join them – Percy asks, looking nervous, "Can we start now?" as if it's a talent show. He has a point, though – the meeting should've been underway by now. Annabeth likes to keep their talks short and sweet, possibly because the very idea of a short and sweet meeting is the stuff of her wildest dreams. Every single conference, as far as Leo remembers, has ended up with someone or the other fighting about something or the other, and everyone else having to play mediator.

Leo quickly runs through everyone there. There's Grover, Percy, and Jason, of course. Jake, Leo, and Beckendorf from Bunker Nine. Annabeth, Bea, and Malcolm from Six. Piper, Silena, Lacey, and Mitchell from Ten. Katie and Miranda Gardiner from Four. Travis and Connor Stoll from Eleven. Will and Michael from Seven. Castor and Pollux from Twelve. There's Maya, of course, representing Hecate, along with her half-brother Harry (no, not the Potter, though Leo still doesn't believe it's a coincidence). Holly, daughter of Nike. Clovis and Damien, sons of Hypnos. Butch and Cassidy, children of Iris. Chiara, daughter of Tyche, and Paolo, son of Hebe.

Leo wishes Hedge had decided to come, although he knows the old satyr has his hands full helping out at Bunker Twelve. He's barely seen Hedge after the War – and Hedge had seemed a shell of his former self every time they'd met since, still devastated at the loss of his wind-nymph wife, Mellie. Leo doesn't blame him, but Hedge always did know how to liven up a boring meeting, using a couple of choice swear words that always managed to leave Annabeth spluttering.

"We're waiting on the Ares demigods," he tells Percy, though privately he'd much rather start the meeting without them.

Percy nods vaguely, gazing around at everyone. "So how does this work? Are there Bunkers for every god?"

"No, not exactly," Leo admits, feeling, as always, a little guilty about it. "There are Twelve total – one for each of the Twelve Olympians, though we don't really use Bunkers Two and Three – those for Hera and Poseidon, you should actually go and check Bunker Three out, maybe there's some shit there that only a child of Poseidon can unlock –"

"Like what?" Percy asks, interested.

"A trident or something, who knows–" Leo begins excitedly, but Piper elbows him.

"Anyway," she says pointedly, "there are Twelve Bunkers. Bunker Twelve is for Dionysus, and there are only two real sons of the wine god – Castor and Pollux over there. So a lot of Hecate and Hermes kids, plus a lot of our satyrs live there too, but like, it's really a mishmash of people in every Bunker. We try to usually have some satyrs, Demeter kids, Hermes kids, and Hephaestus kids in every Bunker. Demigods from Hermes are useful mostly when we're scouting and stuff, and Hephaestus demigods are usually around to take care of the weapon stock, repairs, and stuff like that. But we rotate a lot based on need – like sometimes you might need some extra hands in Six, and their messenger will spread the word, y'know? Everyone has a role to play." She points at Lacey. "See her there? That's Lacey, she's my half-sister. She's not the fiercest warrior, but she can alter her appearance with, like, one stick of eyeliner – she's super useful on supply runs, because she can enter a store as one person, take whatever she wants, and then just – turn into someone else. She's never been caught on a run." Piper smiles with pride. "Mitchell can't charmspeak, but he can brew any kind of potion you like. A potion to make you taller, smaller, anything – you name it."

"He can also tell your sexuality just by reading your palm," Leo offers, wanting to contribute to the conversation. Piper wrinkles her nose at him.

"Half-bloods from Hecate can use magic," she goes on. "They're in charge of keeping up our defenses and figuring out if any monsters are close. Ares have our best fighters, Athena our strategists. Demeter keeps us alive, not even gonna lie, we'd have been dead long ago if it wasn't for them. Butch over there? He's our best communicator. After the Titans corrupted Iris-Messages – we can't send them anymore without our location being tracked – Iris's kids became our best bet. They can communicate with each other with their minds, it's really handy in an SOS situation. An Iris kid being attacked by a monster on the outside can call for reinforcements without even having to say it aloud."

"So where do me and Jason fit in?" Percy asks.

"You just sit tight, pretty boy," Piper smirks.

"You're great at laundry," Leo allows. "Us Niners have all made a pact to not ever tell anyone about your skills, because then every Bunker will want you, and we had first dibs."

"Glad to be of service," Percy grouses. "So – wait – there isn't a Bunker for Hades? And the other minor gods?"

"The demigods of the minor gods aren't that many in number, so they're spread across different Bunkers, and Hades was never officially an Olympian," Piper shrugs. "And besides, he didn't have any children that we know of."

"Oh, yeah," Percy says, nodding vigorously. "Yeah, of course."

"Well, why are you asking, then?"

"Ugh, can Clarisse just show up," Leo complains, cutting off Percy's stuttered reply, already sick of waiting. His leg is jumping up and down and it's barely been half an hour.

"Annabeth, let's just start," Piper agrees, sitting down in front of the fire, which is a bright, happy yellow, rising higher by the minute.

"Clarisse was probably busy, maybe that's why she's a little late," Silena says diplomatically, and literally everyone else rolls their eyes, because Silena is the only one in their entire camp who can stand Clarisse. Their friendship is so weird, mostly because it makes no sense at all: Silena is saccharine, practically a walking ray of sunshine, and Clarisse is a son of a bitch. She bulldozes down everyone in her bath and screams constantly and is generally a pain in the ass. Piper says it's an opposites attract kind of situation, but Leo isn't really sure how they became friends in the first place (Piper says Silena helped the daughter of Ares out a lot when her kinda-sorta-maybe boyfriend disappeared), or how Silena hasn't yet clubbed Clarisse around the head with a baseball bat.

It's a general rule that nobody can deal with the Ares demigods, which works just fine, because Leo's pretty sure they can't deal with each other, either.

Clarisse chooses that moment to burst into the Bunker like it's her own damn house or something. She bulldozes her way over to them, her second-in-command, Sherman, in tow.

"What are you waiting for, noobs?" she thunders, and Piper winces.

"You, actually," Annabeth says calmly, sitting down on a cushion and shooting Clarisse an unimpressed look, and Leo wonders belatedly how Annabeth can make even turn even the simplest actions into something full of disappointment and disdain.

Clarisse only grunts. Her eyes pass over all of them before landing on Percy, which makes sense, because he's new – everyone braces for her to spew some crappy insult at him, but Clarisse sniffs condescendingly, moving her gaze away, before she does a frankly hilarious double take that makes Leo smother a chuckle into his open fist when the daughter of Ares' eyes widen and she slams her spear into the ground, points at Percy, and yells, "YOU!"

Her voice echoes all throughout the Bunker. Lacey, who is closest to her and rather meek by nature, actually has her hands over her ears. Everyone else looks somewhere between stricken and harangued, except for Percy, who, Leo is interested to note, is looking at his shoes almost guiltily.

"What now, Clarisse," Annabeth says, with the air of a mother who's been dealing with her five rowdy children all day.

"What now? What now? What's now is that – you let that-that stealing swine into our camp!" Clarisse screams, drops of spit flying from her mouth like rain – Lacey has to remove her arms from her ears to shield her head - and it would be so funny if only Clarisse weren't so fucking terrifying. Built like a linebacker, with arms thick enough to crush a watermelon with a single flex, she's got these tiny, mean, beady eyes that would be comical on literally any other human in the world, but somehow they give Clarisse the look of a very hungry bulldog.

"Stealing swine?" Annabeth asks. "What-"

"He took all our weapons!" Clarisse rages, without context. "And then when we chased him he lured us into a public bathroom – and-and- he did something to the pipes, I don't know, shit was flying everywhere –"

Around them, everyone is hiding laughs into their pillows. Leo accidentally makes eye contact with Michael, who turns his own face into something remarkably like Clarisse's, right down to the bull-like flare of her nostrils. Leo looks away at once, mouth twitching.

"Percy wouldn't do that," Jason is quick to defend.

Percy coughs, turning the shade of a ripe apple. "Um."

"Are you sure it was him?" Annabeth asks Clarisse.

"He was off on his flying horse and waving goodbye by the time we got out," Clarisse rages. "He put our knives between his fingers and acted like he was Wolverine."

Travis barks out a laugh that he tries desperately to turn into a sneeze at the last minute. Clarisse rounds on him with a hiss of, "You wanna fight, runt?"

"Oh, that's definitely Percy," Annabeth mutters.

Jason turns to look at Percy. Actually, everyone turns to look at Percy. Identical grins begin to unfurl on Travis and Connor's faces at exactly the same time – their twintuition is creepy – and Connor says, way too gleefully, "No way."

Leo is torn between laughing and crying. He's very appreciative of the fact that Percy had managed to spray Clarisse and her gang of bullies with toilet goo, but that had meant Leo had had to remake all the lost weapons, and he distinctly remembers that that hadn't been exactly fun.

"Wolverine?" Jason asks, the poor, sheltered baby boy. Leo places an arm on his and says, "Later, young grasshopper."

Percy is attempting to blend into Piper, who is sat closest to him, and fails spectacularly. Annabeth levels him with a look that would make a Titan freeze and then stab himself. It works, because Percy stops squirming and fixes her with a look that screams, don't make me fight the big mean girl.

"Care to explain?" she asks frostily.

Percy shifts back and forth. "Well, remember I told you about stealing from a bunch of campers?"

"Oh my gods, Percy," Annabeth groans. "You didn't say they were Greek."

"Yes, because I'd hoped to avoid this very situation," Percy defends, as his voice takes on a frantic note. "And can you blame me? I was all alone and weaponless, and then one day I was wandering the forest and I saw all these knives right there. I couldn't help myself. It seemed like a better option than tracking a monster." He shoots a look of utmost despair around the ring of demigods that has Silena and Lacey cooing softly in sympathy. Everyone else, possibly remembering all the shit Clarisse has said to them over the years, seems to come to the conclusion that yes, of course, poor Percy, he was just trying to stay alive. Leo marvels.

"Why are you acting like that's all you took?" Clarisse demands, her nose wrinkled upward in an extremely piglike fashion. If only she snorted, the transformation would be complete.

"Here we go," Sherman says in a low voice.

"This little cockroach," Clarisse says with passion, "took all the food, all the blankets…he even tried to take the tent."

"Didn't quite manage with the last one," Percy admits, with a sudden, rather disarming grin that makes his green eyes sparkle. "It's hard to run with a tent around you, I couldn't see a thing."

Leo has to suddenly choke back a laugh at the thought of Percy running through the forest with a tent covering his entire body, tripping over brambles and roots. To his right, Travis and Connor are wheezing.

"And the food?" Clarisse growls.

"I was hungry!"

Annabeth smacks her hand into her face.

"It was three years ago," Percy says plaintively. "Why can't we bury the hatchet? Forgive and forget?"

"ARES NEVER FORGETS," Clarisse roars, and the force of it makes even the magic fire tremble and go a little dimmer. "AND THE ONLY HATCHET I WILL BE BURYING IS THE ONE IN YOUR SKULL, YOU CORPSE-BREATH WORM."

Percy must really have a death wish, because he's smiling almost nostalgically. "Hey, that's what you called me back then!"

"I know," Clarisse snaps. "Only this time, I can finally rip your head off!"

"Is violence really necessary?" Silena asks, shaking her head sadly, the thick curtain of her hair swishing prettily about her. She places a hand on Clarisse's shoulder and her charm bracelet makes a soothing tinkly noise, almost like a tiny wind chime.

"Calm down, Clarisse," Silena urges, in a soothing voice that might as well be charmspeak - but everyone knows Silena doesn't have the ability. Even so, her words are so comforting that Leo feels calmed down, but Clarisse only shoves her hand away, shaking her head as though dazed.

"You can take her, Percy," Michael Yew calls – he's always hated Clarisse, ever since the great Apollo-Ares chariot showdown before the War - and apparently her declaration of war against the son of Poseidon has fixed his place firmly at Percy's side. "Throw shit in her face again."

"I will squash you under my foot, bug," Clarisse spits at him. She's, like, twice his size and wears Doc Martens with spikes embedded into the soles, pointy parts faced down, which, to date, is the most Ares thing Leo's ever seen – she could really step on Michael with no regrets.

Annabeth massages the area between her eyes. "Can't you guys just…make up?"

"Yes, please," Percy says at once.

"Not a bloody chance in the deepest pit in all of Tartarus," Clarisse shoots back with venom. Her tiny eyes are full of loathing. "Annabeth, why the fuck is this rat here? On my turf?"

"Our," mumbles Katie.

"Do you even know if he's on our side?" Clarisse asks, going around the circle and advancing on Percy, who gulps at the sight of her (very, very sharp) spear. "What if he's a monster? What if he's-"

"I think I would've noticed if he was a monster," Annabeth says acidly. She cuts a nonthreatening figure at the moment, sitting cross-legged on the floor, but her grey eyes suddenly flash and her fingers are on her dagger hilt, and with a painful jolt Leo is reminded that Athena, too, is a goddess of battle, and Annabeth is more than skilled with her weapon. He's seen her throwing knives. She's fast as hell and she never misses.

Clarisse hesitates: she knows, too.

"He's on our side," Annabeth insists. By the way Clarisse glares at her, you'd never know they were (kinda) friends.

"Maybe he used the Mist on you," Clarisse argues.

"Percy saved my life, Clarisse," Annabeth snaps back, finally losing her temper. Something in her expression makes Clarisse step back, and even Malcolm, who looked to be on the verge of protesting, shrinks back, subdued. Piper looks smug and proud as she watches her friend and Leo is reminded of why Annabeth had been the unanimous choice for their leader during their first meeting after the War. "Now shut up and sit down."

Clarisse seems to be at war (ahahaha) with herself, but finally she flings away her weapon in a fit of rage - as if she hadn't displayed it enough already - and throws herself onto the ground as far away from Percy as possible.

"So he is a demigod?" Malcolm questions, scanning Percy like he's trying to get a good read on him, the way Leo's figured most children of Athena are inclined to doing – they're like human lie detectors in themselves.

"What else would I be?" Percy mutters.

"He is," Annabeth responds.

"And what's his godly parentage?" Malcolm asks, and everyone else makes noises of agreement.

Annabeth glances at Percy. "Well," she says. "This is the interesting part." She looks around at everyone. "No freak-outs, and this information does not leave this room."

Glancing sideways at Percy, she picks up the water bottle next to her – oh, they'd planned this, hadn't they – and uncaps it. Then, without any warning, just like the first night when Percy'd arrived at Bunker Nine, she flings the water in his direction.

And, like before, Percy stops the spray just by raising his hand. He lets it hover in the air for a moment, letting the drops catch the light from the now-blue fire, as though allowing everyone to get a good look, before slowly directing the stream back into the bottle.

He doesn't spill a drop. The water trickles prettily into the water bottle, rolling dangerously close to the mouth of it, and when Percy's done, he casts Annabeth a look that proclaims, Did you see that? Did you? I am the most skilled son of Poseidon in all the land. Annabeth rolls her eyes; Leo looks around, anticipating the reaction.

Almost directly against Annabeth's directions, everyone freaks the fuck out.

"The fuck!" Clarisse screams, pointing a shaking finger at Percy. "You're telling me Prissy's a son of fucking Poseidon?"

"How old are you?" Bea asks, her grey eyes gleaming in a very Annabeth-like fashion.

"Can you stop rain?" Connor yelps.

"Can you make rain?" Miranda gasps.

"How long would it take you to water a crop, say, twenty feet by twenty-five feet?" Katie asks. "Or, screw that – how much do you know about drip irrigation?"

"Are we sure he's a son of Poseidon, for real?" Malcolm says doubtfully. "I mean, he could just be a son of Hecate who's really good at elemental magic."

"No," Maya says, shaking her head. "He's the real thing – his eyes didn't glow gold the way ours do." To demonstrate, she lifts the forgotten water bottle several feet off the ground, and damn, her eyes really are gold.

"That's hot," Leo says.

"I will pour this water on you," says Maya, letting the bottle drop again.

"If he's a son of Poseidon, that makes him even more suspicious," Malcolm argues. "How did he stay alive for so long? His scent is probably strong enough to attract monsters wherever he goes – it doesn't add up. How do we know he isn't a spy for the Titans?"

Everyone falls silent, nodding in agreement at this. Leo figures it's a fair question to ask, but they don't have all the details, like the fact that –

"I killed Iapetus," Percy says casually, like he's announcing the weather, and everyone promptly loses their shit all over again.

"No way that beanpole is the Titan Killer!" Clarisse booms, far brasher than the rest of them, who are talking over themselves and creating a cacophony similar to the kind you'd see in a very rowdy debate session. It takes Annabeth having to stand up – Travis quickly switches her good cushion with the flat one he'd been sitting on – and clap several times before everyone begins to quiet down again.

"The Titans were at the Roman front," pronounces Mitchell, but he sobers when Percy flashes them all his SPQR tattoo. Leo reclines against his cushion and wishes he had popcorn.

"So you're a son of…Neptune?" Miranda Gardiner asks, frowning.

"Lupa always said I was a son of Poseidon," Percy replies, shrugging. "So I guess I'm Greek, but I dunno."

"If you're Greek, why were you at the Roman camp?" Pollux asks at once.

Percy throws his arms in the air, exasperated. "You want the whole backstory? Fine." He glares at the fire, which has turned purple. "I was chased from my home and I met Lupa in the woods near Bunker Nine. She taught me about the gods and the Titans and stuff-"

"And stuff," Malcolm grumbles under his breath. "Years of culture and history is not…stuff."

"-And then she pointed me in the direction of New Rome. Don't ask me why, because I don't know," he says in a rush, probably noticing several others open their mouths and poise themselves to speak. "I fought with the Romans during the War, and then when we lost, I left New Rome. I've been travelling alone ever since, until Piper and Leo and Grover and Butch –" he nods to them in turn – "found me near their Bunker. That's it."

Leo digests this. Percy's story is sound, albeit with holes large enough for giants like Clarisse or Beckendorf to slip through, but that's fair enough. They're all demigods, for fuck's sake. They know tragic backstories even more than reality TV show contestants do.

Besides, he's been questioned by Annabeth, which is a detail everyone seems to be overlooking. If Annabeth has managed to go on a monster raid and a Quest with him and has found no reason to distrust him – well, that's more than good enough for Leo.

"Iapetus killed…one of my good friends," Percy continues, and his voice, which so far had been hardened with frustration and defiance, softens into something shattered and sad and so genuine that it brings up memories of Leo's own rather miserable past. "So I fought him. It was…hell, but I won. If you don't believe me…" He yanks back the neckline of his shirt to reveal a jagged scar that disappears somewhere around his torso. Leo winces – he's got his own fair share of scars and bruises and still-purple wounds, but Percy's scar looks like someone had lodged a knife into his shoulder and then just dragged it through the rest of him.

Nobody speaks for the next few minutes. Percy, eyes dark, sits back down – Piper pats his knee in sympathy and Jason offers him a fist bump, which he returns. Leo shoots him what he hopes is a heartening smile – it can't have been easy to stand his ground against twenty or so demigods who seem determined to prove him an enemy, and though Leo knows that they've all been betrayed by friends, comrades, family, during the War, and that is reason enough for their misgivings, he still does remember what it's like to be the new kid, and so feels sympathetic towards Percy. The smile must work, because Percy grins back and tilts his head like, It happens.

Annabeth, who also seems to have been stunned into speechlessness by the sight of Percy's scar, jars herself back to attention.

"I hope the interrogation session is done with," she says dryly, glaring pointedly at Clarisse, "because we've got far more important shit to talk about."

She takes a breath, closing her eyes for a moment as she gathers her thoughts. Almost simultaneously, most of the circle leans forward slightly in anticipation, even Leo, who knows what she's going to say. Even the fire at the centre of them goes quiet, flickering softly and sparking different colors. Annabeth just has that way about her - she really knows how to work a crowd, even if she doesn't mean to, and she gives off the impression that she's always in control, that she knows what she's doing, which, in a group as diverse as theirs, is rare. Even in the times when technically Thalia had been their head, Annabeth had been the one most people turned to if they wanted to really know what was up, because she never minced her words, even in those times of conflict. It's her straightforwardness and simple, strong honesty that works as effectively as charmspeak in matters of riling people up or calming them down, that draw people in, and although there might be a few warriors on her level in camp, nobody can boast of being as influential.

"So," she says. Her voice is lower than normal, so everyone shifts towards her almost unconsciously – everyone except Clovis, who is already beginning to nod off, the great sloth. "You know our theory, after the Prophecy failed us. About possibly there being another Great Prophecy that would signal our comeback." She looks around at them all, grey eyes grim. "We were wrong."

Holding a placating hand in Malcolm's direction – as her half-brother seems on the border of interrupting – Annabeth nods at Percy, who clears his throat and then explains quickly about Lupa and the Prophecy she'd told him.

"A half-blood of the eldest gods," he says in Ancient Greek, and his voice sounds deep and impressive, the way his tongue rolls over the words. Annabeth, who probably hadn't been expecting that, blinks in surprise, but permits him to continue with a little gesture of her hand.

"Shall come of age against all odds," Percy says. "And see the world in endless sleep, the hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap – a single choice shall end his days, Olympus to preserve or raze." He stops.

"So you all heard the difference," Annabeth says. "It's a minor one, one most likely interpreted wrong long ago and then taken to be the law, sometime during all these years since the fall of the Oracle. After all, in Ancient Greece, the average coming of age for young people was sixteen. Here, in America, though, it's twenty-one."

Malcolm raises his hand, right on cue. "How are you so sure it's real?"

Annabeth smiles haughtily at him, and the rest of the Bunker 9 occupants exchange knowing grins as she reaches into her pack and unwraps her hoodie from what looks like a sheaf of old parchment bound carelessly together. They don't look impressive in the least, but Leo's learned that in their world, old is gold – unless it comes to monsters, in which case old is infinitely more terrifying and really, really sucks.

She holds the papers up for everyone to see.

"These," she says in a hushed voice, "or, at least, some of these, are original pages from the Sibylline books."

Will and Michael gasp in tandem.

"You're fucking shitting me," says Will, clapping his hands over his mouth.

"Give it here," Michael says, springing to his feet before Annabeth can even have the chance to hand it over. "Let me see." He touches the page Annabeth proffers and visibly blanches. "Oh my gods it's the real shit. Oh my gods." He back sits down right there. "Oh my gods."

"How do you know?" Sherman asks, glaring at Michael as though he's just putting on a show.

"I can feel it," Michael says simply, and he usually sounds like an idiot, but his face is grim now and somehow Leo finds himself believing him. "Apollo was - is the god of prophecy. That thing is right from the time of the original Roman Empire." He points at the sheet in Annabeth's grasp. "We can sense this stuff – it's in our bones."

"Why didn't you sense that the old Prophecy was fake, then?" Clarisse jeers, wiggling her fingers to highlight his 'sensing' abilities.

"Your ass is fake, you freak," Michael returns with spectacularly childlike glee, wearing a smile as though he's been waiting for this showdown to happen. Will looks ashamed, Silena disappointed. Everyone else does not seem surprised in the least – Michael has always had a knack for driving Clarisse over the edge, and he takes a particular pleasure in trying to get a rise out of her every time they come face-to-face. Piper and Lacey exchange looks, like, it's happening again and there's nothing we can do to stop it. Sherman petitions Ares' name. Percy looks interested and amused, probably glad it's not him on the chopping block this time. Jason looks bored. Leo, again, really wishes he'd brough some kind of snack with him, and wonders emphatically which is more pathetic – Michael's immature insults or the fact that Clarisse loses her shit at them every single time.

Annabeth intervenes at lightning speed, shoving Clarisse backward even as the other girl makes to stand. "Michael, shut the fuck up – Clarisse, put away the spear, for gods' sake – you're both idiots. Idiots. No – Clarisse sit down, fucking hell, Michael, really? Sticking your tongue out at her? Really?"

It takes her a while to get everyone back on track, and by the time that's happened, she looks tired and frazzled and very much done with the entire situation. Leo doesn't blame her. He imagines that putting up with Clarisse is like trying to stuff a raging elephant into a dollhouse without breaking anything. It's just not advisable, because the elephant will get mad and start stomping around, trampling everything in its path.

Michael, on the other hand, is like that rat that comes and fucks up everything in your house, artfully dodging all the traps you've laid out for it. Slimy motherfucker, but Leo's got to admit the dude has balls of steel – nobody would dare stand up to Clarisse the way he does.

"Anyway," Annabeth says, sounding irritated, blowing away a curl that's fallen into her eyes. "The Prophecy. We have proof that it says come of age, nothing about age sixteen. If we go by today's laws in America, coming of age would be age twenty-one. Jason and Percy, here-" Obediently, the two of them smile fakely and wave (Percy, in a fit of what must be pure shamelessness, even blows a kiss), prompting laughs from the group – "turn twenty-one next year. We've got to be ready."

Her announcement is met with a mixture of enthusiasm (from Clarisse and Sherman, the warmongers), and gloom (from everyone else).

"This Prophecy is legit," Will confirms, having taken the yellowest page in the book. He's poring over it even as he speaks. "It's the most legit shit I've ever seen."

Annabeth hands Leo the rest of the book. "There's stuff in there that you might find interesting – and some for Hecate, as well-" She beckons Maya and Harry over.

"Annabeth, if it's Jason or Percy," Katie cuts in, "I mean – what do you mean we should get ready? There aren't any more demigods out there for us to recruit. We don't know where the Romans are based, not exactly. Most of our Quests from before the War, to get magical items and whatnot – they all failed."

"We can train," says Clarisse excitedly, smashing her gigantic fist into her palm. "If we have every Bunker trained like ours-"

"We can't all be you, Clarisse," Katie replies kindly.

"Yeah, we can't all be meatheads," Michael scoffs.

Annabeth says something in reply, but Leo doesn't hear her. In fact, he doesn't hear anyone, because he's stumbled on something insane.

"Annabeth," he calls, and the room falls silent, oddly, when he speaks – maybe they sense something urgent in his voice.

Leo holds up the page. "Annabeth, this is the recipe for Greek Fire."

Mitchell and Maya trip over themselves trying to get to him.

"Oh my gods," Maya says, two spots of pink appearing on her cheeks as she takes in the words on the page. Mitchell is looking at the sheet as though committing it to memory.

"Annabeth, this is crazy," Maya says finally. "If this works…"

"It's huge," Mitchell agrees, still scanning the parchment. "The recipe is insane, though. Super complex. One drop wrong and it goes kaboom."

Annabeth leans forward. "Can you do it?"

"Of course I can," Mitchell says dismissively, flipping a lock of sleek hair from his forehead. "But these ingredients, though…" He lists off a bunch of obscure items, more than half of which Leo is pretty sure he's making up, but when he voices his doubts aloud, the son of Aphrodite just shoots him a dirty look.

"Nectar?" Travis says. "Where are we supposed to get that? The gods are gone."

Grover speaks up. "I got a prophecy. Apparently I'm…destined to go find Pan."

Katie's eyes widen. "Pan is still alive?"

"Apparently so," Grover says uncertainly. "Maybe he has an idea about the nectar?"

"It's a start," Mitchell admits. "The rest of the stuff…some of it we can get on supply runs, others we need Quests for. This is some magical shit."

Beckendorf looks like every holiday known to mankind has arrived early. "The things we could do with Greek Fire! We could – rig bombs –"

"Sounds lit," says Michael, looking around immediately as he says it as thought waiting for a round of applause for the pun. Leo gives him a thumbs-up.

Maya, whose attention has been captured by another section of the book, looks up. Leo's never really understood magic – it's all twisty and defies all laws of everything and isn't straightforward the way simple mechanics and physics is. But Maya looks thrilled, her dark eyes shining. "There are notes on widespread magic. It's super interesting. If we could teach this to every kid from Hecate, we could enchant armies of monsters at a time."

Jason's eyes widen. "You could make them die?"

"Possibly. Mostly this is the kind of magic is harmless at heart, but it definitely could affect hundreds, thousand, at once. We could make make them all – fight each other, or knock themselves out, or even dance, maybe. Who knows?" Maya grabs Clovis, who, miraculously, looks wide-awake. "Clovis, do you think-"

"Will, I have a theory about the Oracle," Annabeth is explaining enthusiastically. "So, she was just a mortal, right-"

Around them, everyone seems to have broken up into their own little groups. Mitchell is telling Katie and Miranda about a certain kind of leaf ne needs for Greek Fire. Clarisse is discussing battle formations with Sherman, Malcolm, Bea, Paolo, and Holly. Damien, Clovis, Maya, and Harry are still discussing how to cast magic, Silena listening on. Piper, Butch, Cassidy, Travis, Connor, and Lacey are talking supplies, setting up schedules and discussing the rest of the ingredients on Mitchell's list. Percy and Michael are speculating the benefits of letting loose a Greek Fire firecracker right at the base of Othrys. Chiara, Castor and Pollux are asking Grover about Pan.

It's a very different atmosphere compared to the one Leo remembers from before the War. Back then everything had been – more of a job, a duty, than anything. Quests were taken on to only to retrieve some miraculous item that would help their chances – like the Golden Fleece, or an apple from the garden of the Hesperides, or the Nemean Lion's pelt. They'd all been disastrous. Leo's never thought about it before, but nobody ever going on a Quest had really gone about it hopefully – mostly they'd been glad enough to return with their lives, but maybe that's the difference. Maybe nobody had really, truly believed they'd succeed at a Quest, or beat a Titan…or win the War.

Whatever's happening right now – people throwing out ideas, everyone else building upon them – their faces shine with confidence and anticipation, and this is way more fun, in Leo's opinion: he prefers it greatly to all the somber assemblies of the past. Leo plants himself on a comfy cushion a little away from the action and grins around at everyone, light-headed and fond, remembering Christmases when his mom was alive and she'd take him to visit his grandmother's house. Since her death, he's been mostly alone and he'd thought he would never again feel the sense of community that only comes with being a part of a huge family, but surrounded by all these demigods – some spitting profanity at each other – Leo can't help but think that that's exactly what he's got.

Still smiling, he turns another page of the book.

He blinks.

He calls Jake and Beckendorf with a wave of his hand, unable to speak.

They all stare at the writing, then each other.

Piper, Jason, and Percy, noticing the three of them standing, motionless, in a room full of action, peek around their shoulders curiously.

Percy frowns. "It's…a ball."

"It's not just a ball," Jake whispers. "It's a sphere."

"It's an Archimedes sphere," Leo says, hushed. "I didn't know…I assumed they were blown up or something…I-"

"It's beautiful," Beckendorf says, nearly choked up. "I'm gonna cry."

Leo is near tears himself – the plans are gorgeous, thin lines detailing every single wire, every piece of Bronze. There are a couple of diagrams of the sphere, several depicting the outside shell, and many more describing the cross-section from various angles. Blocky handwriting alongside each figure – possibly written by Archimedes himself, and the thought thrills Leo down to his very core – labels in glorious, marvellous, stupendous detail every single piece they need to build one, and how to put them all together – physically, and magically, too. Leo's hand shake as he examines the document.

He's never believed in destiny, really. Even after discovering his parentage, Leo's always been a firm believer in whatever happens, happens, rather than what is meant to happen, will happen. It had only been when he'd found the plans for the Bronze Dragon in Bunker Nine that his entire body had tingled with-with this sense of purpose. This sense of – I have to be the one to find this damn thing.

The fire burning up Leo's insides now is that feeling from back then, only tenfold. Twentyfold. Every vein seems like it's filled with gasoline, not blood, trailing a scorching path up and down his entire body.

"Leo, you're smoking," Piper says tiredly – she's been dealing with this particular problem since their school days – and runs her hand through his curls, putting it out.

"Charlie, you okay?" Silena calls. Beckendorf only lets out an almighty sniff in response.

Jake just blinks at the sphere, his eyes glassy.

Leo scrambles to his feet and raps smartly on the nearest tabletop with his hand. Only nobody hears him, so Beckendorf does it, which works a lot better, because the dude's hands are the size of baseball mitts.

Leo fiddles in his bag for a piece of chalk. "Gather 'round, kids," he says brightly. "We've just found something insane, and now Uncle Leo's gonna teach you how we're going to own this War."

Drawing on the uneven ground is a big of a task, but Leo recreates the illustration as best he can – his lines are nowhere near as clean as Archimedes', or even Annabeth's, but he tries anyway, while Beckendorf and Jake busy themselves with giving the rest of the demigods, who have circled around the fire again, the brief backstory.

"Archimedes was the most famous, the most celebrated son of Hephaestus to ever live," Beckendorf explains. "Supposedly his knowledge and inventions were so renowned that even the Roman general wanted to keep him alive when they plundered his city, but he got killed anyway."

"His findings are still used today," Jake continues. "He calculated the value of pi. His achievements in engineering – unprecedented."

"He was an inventor," Beckendorf rattles off. "A mathematician. An engineer. An astronomer. A physicist. He was a legend."

"I'm pretty sure the plumbing we use in the Bunkers uses Archimedes' basic designs and principles," Leo adds. "I'm pretty sure he invented this hyrdraulic screw-"

"I don't care about some lame hydraulic screw," Clarisse taunts.

"He invented a heat ray that could fry the hair off your head," Leo shoots back, affronted. "Good enough for you?"

"He also invented this giant claw that could dangle from a crane and pluck ships out of the water," Jake adds, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

Clarisse raises her hands in defeat.

"The point we're trying to make here is," Leo says, pointing at the rather crude diagram of the sphere he's made, magnified from the parchment, "Archimedes was the elite of the elite. He was a visionary. And he made these spheres." He traces the circle reverently. "The Romans for the life of them couldn't figure out what they were for – whether they were supposed to map star paths or what, but everyone knew that they must've been some good shit. But the spheres were lost, and so were Archimedes' notes on them…or so we thought." He grabs the papers and waves them in the air. "But here they are!"

"This is huge," Jake stresses. "Even bigger than all the automaton models we found in Bunker 9. Even bigger than the plans you got from Daedalus' workshop," he says, with a significant look at Annabeth, who raises an eyebrow.

"So what can they do?" Annabeth asks doubtfully. "I know Archimedes was a big deal, of course – but these spheres…I mean, they just look like. Spheres."

"The possibilities are endless!" Leo howls, breaking the piece of chalk in his excitement. "Weapons! Communication." He stops. "Oh my god, communication."

"We could use it to send messages to the New Rome," Beckendorf says, running a hand through his buzz cut. "Holy Hera."

"We could – link two spheres together magically, send them messages, we could finally have contact with them!" Leo enthuses. "We could update them on the Prophecy, we could – tell them about Quests – they can keep us informed about Othrys –"

He chances a glance at Jason, who is gazing at the spheres with a new light in his eyes. Leo knows that while there hadn't been a doubt in his mind about choosing to be with Thalia over the Romans, he had still grown up there, after all, and he'd had a lot of friends he'd had to leave behind – friends who might possibly be dead, now. The New Rome base camp isn't split up into smaller groups like the Greeks, but the entrance is changed every few weeks or so, so it's impossible to find unless you have the knowhow. Aside from the run-in Jason had had with Reyna on a Quest a year or so after the War, they hadn't had news from the Romans at all. They didn't even know if they were alive, and Leo imagines the worry must've been nagging at the son of Zeus for a while.

This, at least, has made everyone sit up and take notice. Annabeth appraises the sphere with a whole new respect.

"We couldn't do that soon enough," she admits. "Especially with the new stuff about the Prophecy - we have to let them know, and it'll probably take months and months for us to even begin to locate their base. The spheres are our best shot.."

"How long will they take to construct?" Piper questions. "I mean, it can't be easy, right?"

"It's going to be the hardest shit we've ever attempted," Leo agrees.

"We'll need materials," Beckendorf pipes up, frowning. He points at the book. "This says we'll need nothing short of the purest metals there are."

"Isn't Celestial Bronze pure enough?" Travis asks. "We could all just – raid monsters for a month or something-"

Leo shakes his head. "That wouldn't work. The Celestial Bronze we use is enchanted, yes, but not exactly pure. Same with Imperial Gold. With the gods gone, we're technically facing a shortage, right? That's why we go on raids, because there's no way for us to mine the metals ourselves. Celestial Bronze and Imperial Gold comes from deep, deep beneath the earth, and I don't even know how you go about making Stygian Iron. So we're technically using second-hand weapons, forged and re-forged – but the purest form of the metals come straight from the forges of Hephaestus; they can be polluted even by the touch of demigods." He pauses halfway through the lecture to take a breath. "I dunno how to explain it, really – just, uh, imagine the cleanest form of metal you can get, straight from its ore, right from the earth. That's what we need – metal untouched by anyone, unpolluted by human – or demigod, or monster - touch."

"What the hell do we have to do to get that?" Malcolm wonders, sounding despondent. "Dig?"

"A child of Hades would be supremely useful right now," Miranda says.

"We'll send satyrs out," Grover cuts in, placing a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Metals are a part of the earth…I don't know. It's worth a shot."

"Leo, when you're on your Quest to find the Bronze Dragon, you might wanna keep an eye out, too," Annabeth says, letting out a sigh that makes her look mildly crazed.

"Dragon?" Percy says, sounding horrified. "Bronze?"

"That's another thing about the spheres!" Jake crows loudly. "If we get them right, we could fit miniature ones into automatons and stuff…you know how the automatons we made for the last War usually just…malfunctioned?" Leo winces at this – their machines had been good and useful, for a time, but each of them had eventually gone berserk and attacked without discernment between friend or foe, and they'd had to be put down eventually – an act that still causes him pain. "With the spheres, they wouldn't at all! If we could build enough-"

"A robot army?" Connor says, sitting up.

"Robot army!" Leo punches the air, grinning.

"Sounds badass," Sherman admits, with a sideways glance at his sister, but, astonishingly, Clarisse nods in agreemnt.

Annabeth nods, determined. "Sounds like a plan."

"Annabeth, even if we can build…five spheres, it's make a huge difference, I swear it," Leo promises.

She nods. "I'm deferring to your knowledge on this one. Which means - everything we've planned from today is on priority, guys. That means we get the ingredients we need for Greek Fire, the metals for the spheres, and – Maya, Clovis, get all your siblings working on these new spells. Meanwhile, the rest of us need to train – Jason, Percy, don't give me that look, you guys too. Will, I told you my hunch about the Oracle-"

"Clearsighted mortals, got it," Will salutes.

"Every Bunker goes on monster raids," Annabeth orders, furrowing her brows. "We might need pure metals for the construction of the spheres, but we could do with more weapons, and we'll need weapons for automatons, as well."

"Are we allowed to tell the rest of the campers about the Prophecy?" Silena asks, wiggling her fingers in Leo's general direction. Leo hands her the book.

Annabeth hesitates. "This is the part I'm not sure about. I trust you guys, of course, but if we still have spies in our Bunkers…" Her lips pull into a frown. "Let's keep it vague. Don't actually say we've got proof that the Prophecy's changed, just say we heard some monsters mentioning an attack or something." She clasps her hands together. "Guys, I can't stress this enough. The fact that the Prophecy wasn't what we thought it was, wasn't meant for back then – this must be kept secret." She looks around at them solemnly. "I trust you guys, but if this information gets into Titan hands, even by accident, Percy and Jason will be targeted, and we can't afford that."

"We don't need to worry about Jason, every Titan and their mom knows he exists," says Bea offhandedly.

"Exactly: what about Percy, then?" Malcolm pipes up, pointing unnecessarily at Percy. "If the Titans know about him-"

Percy shrugs. "The only Titan who knew about my powers was Iapetus, and I killed him. I didn't use my powers much during the War, either."

"Show-off," Clarisse grunts.

"What about after that?" Annabeth asks. "Though I think we can assume the enemy doesn't know about you yet, since you're alive-"

"Again, I don't really use my powers where there's more than one monster around," Percy says. "And when I do, I try not to leave any survivors." Which – damn, Leo thinks, nearly swooning, that's so badass.

"Stick to that," Annabeth orders. She looks around at the rest of them, grim. "As far as anyone knows, Percy's just another unclaimed. We don't wand word spreading around about a son of Poseidon – this stays between everyone here, and nobody else. I get that we'll have to tell everyone at some point, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. We'll tell everyone at Nine not to spread it around, either. Got it?"

Without even waiting for a response, she glances at Leo. "Grab the oldest, dirtiest scrolls you can find back at Nine. I need these pages copied before Grover leaves to Portland – we made a promise to return them to Ella. Keep the originals, we'll give her the copies. She won't mind if the content is the same."

Grover and Percy frown at the same time, but she only shoots them a slightly helpless look in apology. "I know, I know. But we can't afford for these to get into the wrong hands." She gazes at the books, which Silena is studying – Leo recognizes the page about the fancy magic - with great interest. "If Ella is attacked and the book taken – I would never forgive myself. These are the Sibylline books."

"They belong with us," Will agrees. "Well. Technically they belong in New Rome, but let's ignore that for now."

Percy doesn't look too pleased about it, but he waves his hand in a go ahead motion. Annabeth relaxes before turning back to the circle.

"Everyone okay with our current plan of action?" she asks the group at large. "I understand if it's not much, but I just think it's best to be prepared. I just-" In a rare show of vulnerability, her voice cracks, and when she raises her head, her eyes look sorrowful. "We can't afford to lose again."

"We won't," Clarisse says, standing, and somehow, even though she is a brute ninety-nine percent of the time, she looks like an army general or something, now, all broad shoulders and resolute expression. Leo is reminded of the last War, watching Clarisse driving a chariot pulled by skeletal horses, screaming profanity like she was a modern-day barbarian, her entire body surrounded by a pulsing aura of red – proof that she was Ares' chosen, Ares' champion, and despite his indifference towards the daughter of Ares, he feels a little heartened by her words.

"We'll do it right this time," Malcolm says, grey eyes glinting. "This is a second chance gifted to us by the gods."

One by one, everyone stands, gripping their weapons, almost angry expressions etched clear across their faces. Leo grabs Jason's hand and stands too, though he can't help but notice that his friend looks resigned and weary rather than pumped up like the rest.

Annabeth looks like she's fighting some kind of deep emotion: her face, all screwed up at first, finally settles into something resembling relief, something like hope.

"Let's go," she says finally. "We've got work to do."

As everyone is dispersing via their respective passages, Leo slings an arm around Jason's shoulder.

"So," he says flippantly, grinning, "deep shit, huh? But there was one thing that horrified me most of all."

"And what would that be?" Jason plays along, rolling his eyes. His face relaxes – which had been Leo's intention all along, he's pleased to announce – and he shoves at Leo lightly.

"The fact that I haven't introduced you to X-Men," Leo says, and ignores how everyone around them groans and bitches, like oh my gods, Leo, aren't you ever serious about anything? "What kind of teacher am I if I haven't taught you about Wolverine? Storm? Fucking Magneto?"

"Leo, you've got to learn to prioritize," Annabeth says with feeling, though there's a hint of a smile in her voice.

He flips her off and focuses on what's important.

"So, mutants," he says, rubbing his hands together. "Let's talk about Professor X-"

Piper and Annabeth's collide when they both reach out to thwack his head.

Leo just laughs.

/

Percy wishes he was the one to go on the Quest.

"I don't see why I can't," he complains to Annabeth, who looks tired at being asked this. Which Percy thinks is quite unfair, actually, because he's only been whining about it for four days, as opposed to, say, a month.

"Leo doesn't want you to go," Annabeth says rudely, with zero remorse whatsoever. After the first few times he'd asked, after which she'd kindly and patiently explained to him that Percy, sending two Big Three kids on a Quest is like holding up a sign for the monsters to come and eat you, she's gotten rather inventive and mean with her answers. Any self-respecting human would've stopped asking by that point, but Percy can't really help it.

"Lies," Percy responds with some amount of vigor, because Leo had been extremely thankful to hear all about Percy's tryst with the Bronze Dragon, and Percy's sure Leo'll let him come on the Quest if he asks.

He doesn't want to be stuck on eternal laundry duty. He wants to be out there, doing something – he can't be cooped up in the Bunker while everyone else is contributing in some way. Even Piper's heading off on her own Quest at the same time Jason is: she's heading off to Bunker Ten to get some Greek Fire stuff for Mitchell, and she hadn't invited Percy along, and so Percy's not talking to her.

"Annabeth's staying," Piper had said, with the kind of suggestive leer that had made Percy blush right down to his fingertips, but he'd reminded himself that he was mad at her and so hadn't responded.

What Piper had not said, however, that Annabeth had become so obsessed with sticking her head into various ancient scrolls that she didn't have time for Percy anymore.

He is well aware that he sounds like a brat, yes. But Percy is bored and all this – all this being-around-people business…it's spoiled him. He has lived many years mostly alone, and conversing with Blackjack and various fish hadn't been the same as talking to actual humans. Now that he's got a taste of it, he doesn't appreciate being ditched by all his new friends and left to do the laundry, which has quickly become his least favorite task of all time.

In the time Percy's taken to formulate a response, Annabeth's busied herself with another old book about automatons or statues or whatever, so Percy, kinda bitter and kinda neglected, leaves her to it.

He finds Grover sitting in the shade of a tree, curling a vine around his fingers, and he looks strangely lost in thought, so Percy's about to move on when Grover looks up and spots him. He smiles and beckons him over.

Percy settles down next to him. It's a few hours post lunch and the farmlands are empty, freshly watered. Percy closes his eyes and breathes in the smell of the plants and the wetness of the tilled soil, and for a minute imagines he's still on the run, hiding in some forest somewhere, all alone.

Grover laughs lightly as though he's read his mind – it takes Percy a second for him to realize that the satyr had probably done just that. "Do you miss it?" he asks gently. "Being on the run?" He gestures around him. "It must be quite the change."

Percy blinks, startled and feeling somehow called out, though he's not entirely sure why. It's just that nobody's really commented on his sudden – and pretty drastic – shift in lifestyles until now (other than Annabeth, of course).

He thinks about it. It's true that he'd had control over his own schedule when he'd been on his own – he doesn't ever think he'll get used to Annabeth shaking him awake at some ungodly hour two nights a week for patrol – but Percy's only now comprehending fully just how isolated from everything he'd been before. Ever since leaving New Rome - where, despite being hailed as a hero, he'd never really fit in – Percy's never been around demigods much at all, unless you count the encounter with Clarisse.

Being a part of the Bunker – of something larger than himself, is a welcome and refreshing change. And even though there's a lot of dirty work to do, and sometimes tempers run high, Percy can tell everyone in the Bunker is genuinely fond of each other. The older demigods dote on Harley, Gus, and Victoria, who are the youngest in their camp, like they're their younger siblings, and there are - just…tThese little things people do, y'know? Like when Percy's returning from a night patrol, Leo always heats some water in a flask for him. And like when someone is very visibly tired, there are people to pick up their slack in whatever job they're doing, even taking their place for patrols. Percy's seen Silena comforting Christopher after he's had a nightmare, seen Piper slip some extra chips into Nyssa's plate when the other girl looked away. Bunker Nine seems more like a large family than a regiment of an army, and Percy's glad to have experienced the feeling at least once.

"I like it," he says honestly, which might be the biggest understatement ever, but Grover nods like he understands.

"You fit in," he says seriously. "I don't know if you'll believe me, but I really do think you belong here."

Percy bobs his head in response. "It's nothing like New Rome." The Romans had been much more of a military force than anything, and every though Percy had met people he liked and respected, like Reyna, he hadn't really felt like a proper member of the group.

He respects them, though – their way of doing things is different, but it works for them. Reyna in particular had been a capable leader, the kind who wasn't ever above asking for help from more-experienced demigods and legacies. She reminds him, oddly enough, of Annabeth, even though they couldn't be further apart in appearance – there's just something similarly sharp and steely about the two girls.

He wonders how Reyna's doing now.

Thinking about New Rome makes him remember, inevitably, the battles he'd fought there, which, by extension, leads him right to thoughts of Nico and Bianca. He misses them like hell, misses when it had just been the three of them, stealing shit and camping out in the woods afterwards, when times had been simpler.

"Tell me about Pan," he says, mostly to pull his mind from the dark spiral it is heading down, but also because he's pretty sure the god is all Grover's been thinking about since meeting May. He awaits you or whatever.

Grover hums and the flowers growing around him bloom. Percy watches, transfixed, as a blossom nearly commits suicide trying to stretch its petals closer to Grover's hooves.

"Pan was – or is – the God of the Wild," Grover says, reverent. "His mission was to protect wildlife in any and all forms – satyrs all over the world live every day trying to uphold his ideals." He pauses to detangle a particularly daring vine snaking up his arm. "We do everything we can – planting trees, strengthening their roots, we might not make a huge difference, but a little goes a long way in the web of nature. One sapling planted means more nature magic for us to tap into. In the times before the war, we used the trees to communicate – the dryads were good as passing messages under the monsters' radar."

"What happened?" Percy asks curiously, because he remembers seeing far more nature spirits during his travels with Lupa – chlorophyll-skinned dryads who would vanish into the trees as he blundered his way past, naiads who would treat Percy's wounds with a gentle, healing touch.

"The Titans happened," Grover gets out through gritted teeth, and Percy stares; he's never seen the satyr angry before. Grover seems very much a peaceful spirit, more of a moderator than a fighter: on more than one occasion he's broken up a fight, and he seems to be a constant calming presence for Annabeth, who, Percy has noticed, is prone to occasional moments of diving too deep into her own head.

"After the War, or during – the time is a little weird, we're not sure when it started happening for sure – the Titans had pretty much every tree infected. We're not sure how they did it: my best bet is they took the help of Gaea, their mother…maybe she spread the sickness through the earth itself – so although the physical forms of nature remain, the trees, the rivers – their magic has been corrupted. Haven't you noticed?"

He has, as a matter of fact. He hasn't seen a naiad in years, and - "The water hasn't been healing me the way it used to." It still responds to his will, of course, but Grover's right – the little mountain streams Percy's always used feel less welcoming, almost as though they've been tainted somehow.

"We figured it out after the battle." Grover's head hangs. "Dryads started growing weaker, before disappearing entirely into their trees – no amount of calling would bring them out. It was like they were trapped in there." He touches a wild dandelion gingerly. "I had…a girlfriend. Juniper. Her tree is in New York."

"Oh, shit," Percy says, and then he winces at how insensitive he sounds.

"I haven't seen her in five years," Grover says, sniffling and rubbing at his eyes. "I don't even know if she's alive – I haven't felt the presence of a dryad since the War."

"I'm…so sorry," Percy says stupidly, at a loss for what to say. Grover shrugs.

"There are a bunch of satyrs left – a couple in each Bunker," he says. "They're all young, eager – but there's not much to do when nature's aura is so weak. No amount of our healing magic seems to work to get the nature spirits back." He purses his lips. "If Pan were really alive…we could finally have a purpose again."

Percy places a hand on Grover's knee. "You'll find him."

"I really hope I do," Grover admits. "I want to bring nature's lifeforce back – and there's still so much I want to know, you know?" His eyes are alight with the excitement of the unknown, and his face is so full of innocent hope and purity that Percy finds himself reflecting the emotion.

"I'll miss you," Percy says truthfully. "I mean – you might be gone for months, right?"

"Probably," Grover replies. He turns to face Percy. "Actually, I had an idea about that. A way for us to talk, transfer important information when I'm gone. It's called an empathy link."

"Sounds…" Percy can't find the word, so he settles for, "interesting."

Grover snorts. "Satyrs can form a link between themselves and another person if they wish – it's a foolproof method of communication."

"That's useful," Percy says. "Why haven't all you satyrs done it?"

"Because it's a little risky," Grover admits. "Do it wrong and you might just subject yourself and your linked partner to horrible, horrible headaches. Or – um. Brain damage. Maybe."

"Ah." Percy swallows. "So you've done it before, then?"

"Nope," Grover says brightly.

Percy forces himself to stay calm. "Grover…"

"I'm fairly confident, though!" Grover assures him.

Percy takes a deep breath. "So…it's like mind-reading?"

"Kinda," he answers. "More like we can talk telepathically. And, since I'm a satyr, I will probably feel what you're feeling when the link is open – and you might experience mine."

"What If I die?" Percy asks bluntly.

"I'll probably go into a coma or something," Grover says casually, and Percy chokes. "But don't worry," he is quick to reassure him. "The key is cutting off the link in time. Otherwise it's perfectly safe. I'll just be able to talk to you in your mind." Percy must look stricken at this – isn't having Grover sense his emotions enough, does he really have to get into his head? – but Grover laughs.

His smile turns wicked. "Just make sure you're not thinking anything dirty and we should be good."

"What?" Percy asks, mortified. "What?"

"You can close the link if that happens," Grover grins.

"You are horrible," Percy declares, trying not to smile when Grover bursts into laughter. "You are the worst and I hate you."

"You'll do it, then?"

He shrugs. "I'm in. But why me? Wouldn't you be better off linking with…Annabeth?"

Grover cocks his head slightly at him, his eyes so open and warm that it makes Percy flush.

"Annabeth has enough going on in her head without me screaming shit at her," he says bluntly. "And besides…I dunno. I feel a kind of bond with you, I guess. I like you, Percy. I trust you. I think you're going to be a great hero one day."

Percy knows he's gone red all the way to his hairline. "Grover…I-"

"Oh my god, don't cry," Grover says quickly, aghast, and Percy wipes the tears immediately, embarrassed, but Grover's gaze says he understands just how much it means to Percy to be accepted and trusted again, and how much it matters that Grover's said it out loud.

"So do we do this now?" Percy says, crossing his legs beneath him. "Do I have to meditate or something?"

"I'll open it when I'm gone," Grover responds. "There's no use in opening the link now – I'll just get an insight into your dirty dreams."

"I hate you. I'm leaving." Percy stands and makes for the tunnel entrance. "Go find another link-ee."

"Thanks, Percy," Grover calls, waving.

Percy ends up taking a wrong turn on his way back to the Bunker – he's still getting used to all the twists and turns and side-passages of the Labyrinth. Luckily for him, though, he bumps into Jason on his way back from the bathroom, who soon takes pity on Percy's utter incompetence at navigating the tunnels. He looks bored enough to suggest making a detour to – wherever, honestly, leading Percy to a narrower path that soon veers dangerously upward.

Percy is embarrassingly close to gasping. "Where are we going?"

"A special place," Jason says quietly. He tries to smile, but he seems lost in his head, eyes unfocused.

The passage opens up to –

"Wow," he gasps.

It's the mountaintop. Kind of. Maybe. It doesn't quite look high enough – the height they're at is only slightly above the treetops – but it's still beautiful. Reminds Percy of the all the little alcoves he's hidden in over the years - including the one he, Grover, and Annabeth had taken shelter in in the Tualatin Mountains - all rocky terrain and vast expanse of sky.

It's eveningtime, and the sun is setting, turning the sky all kind of shades of blues and oranges and magentas. Percy thinks, if he were a painter, he would surely be scrambling to capture the magnificence of it all – the flock of birds darting in and out of sight, the puffy clouds, looking as soft as wads of cotton, smudged across the canvas, the final rays of yellow hitting several far-off trees like a spotlight.

He breathes in the cold breeze, and it smells faintly of spring.

Percy and Jason lean against the still-warm rocks and gaze upward. At least, Percy gazes upward, trying to spot the first stars, while Jason closes his eyes, his mouth pulling into a tiny frown.

The son of Jupiter's been looking worried these days, and he's shit at hiding it, too. Percy's seen him agitated before, and usually it makes for pretty adequate entertainment, because watching Jason attempt to be rude is hilarious, but not this time. He looks exhausted.

Percy supposes it comes with the trade. Jason, being a month older than him, now has to bear the burden of the Prophecy - just as his sister had died doing - which Percy supposes can't be even remotely fun. It's a weight Percy had carried in the year or so after Lupa had told him the Prophecy, before he met Bianca, before he heard about Thalia. Jason had once told him he hadn't wanted to even be a leader back in New Rome, much less the Hero of the Prophecy, and – well. This is just an all-round shitty situation, isn't it?

Percy isn't sure what to feel about it, himself. On the one hand, with Jason around, that means Percy's free from the responsibility, but he's not entirely sure how it works. There's been a weird thought floating around his head, that maybe it's really him who's the Hero after all, but Percy's not sure how Jason will fit into that particular narrative, and he doesn't want to think about it, because he genuinely likes Jason. Feels a sense of companionship and brotherhood and – and shared baggage, cheesy as it might sound.

"You okay?" Percy finally asks into the silence, and a sideways glance at Jason reveals his eyes open again, dim and troubled, and Percy wants to help, but he doesn't know how.

"Fine." Jason sighs. "I guess."

The wind slows down almost imperceptibly – Jason must be manipulating it, because he plucks a leaf from the air and worries it between his fingers.

"This fucking sucks," he confesses quietly, and the look on his face scares Percy, because for a split second there, he looks like a man with nothing left to lose. Sparks dance on the tips of his fingers and the leaf he'd been holding so delicately turns to ash. He scowls.

Percy isn't sure what Jason means – the Prophecy or the Quest or just everything in general – but he understands - empathizes, even. It's all well and good and easy for everyone else to just – assume they're the Hero, or whatever, and run with it, but it's a whole different feeling when there's a real chance it really might be you. From there – well, you can choose to ignore the fact that the very existence of everything and everyone you love rests on your shoulders. Or you can deal with the stress by convincing yourself of your skill and bravery, or you can run.

Percy's sick of running. He's sick of running and he's sick of losing and more than anything he wants a home, something to come back to, something to hold onto.

Jason seems undecided.

"You think it's too late for – for a child of Hades to pop up out of the ground and take my place?" Jason asks ruefully, and Percy laughs, but then remembers Nico and stops abruptly.

"Probably," he says vaguely.

"I hope so," Jason says.

They both exhale, and their breaths mingle to form a single cloud that dissipates in seconds.

"What do we do now?" Jason asks, with a sardonic twist to his voice. "I mean, I'm going on this Quest, but now there's this extra pressure of…everything." He bits his lip, and his voice shakes when he says, "If I die…"

"Man, don't think like that," Percy admonishes. "You're not going to die, what the fuck."

Jason only shrugs.

Percy's rattled at how casually he's said it. It's not a new thought by any means, but something about the certainty of his friend's voice alarms him. And it's weird, more than anything else, to see Jason worry about dying so vocally – Jason, the pride of New Rome; Jason, who has the power to flatten the mountain they're sitting on. Jason is broader than Percy, and he looks like your typical hero, with his light hair and blue eyes and respectful smile. If Jason were in a regular high school, girls would probably be throwing themselves at him, and their parents would approve, because Jason looks, genuinely, like a good guy. He looks kind the kind of guy who is made to punch bad guys and walk the damsels in distress back home without making a move on them. He is just…solid, if that makes sense. Responsible, reliable, strong, a good friend, a good boyfriend, a good person to have at your side. Jason is the hero that kills all the monsters and stands above their corpses, victorious, his blonde hair flowing in the wind. Jason isn't supposed to die.

He knows the life he's living. He knows the situation they're in. He knows demigods die at an almost ridiculous rate – Beckendorf and Silena, as far as he knows, are the eldest of all the demigods in the Bunkers, at age twenty-one, and there hadn't been any demigods older than twenty in New Rome, either. The legacies had lived longer, because they had less godly DNA than demigods: some had even had families, and children, on the outside. The eve of the battle, Percy recalls many of them praying for their kids – he remembers Commander Zhang kissing a passport-sized picture of her son before stowing it carefully in her pocket and hefting her spear. Percy remembers seeing them all and knowing for a fact that he would never be able to have that kind of life – it's just a fact. Demigods don't live long.

Percy's been close to death many times himself, and there have been times where he's distinctly thought, cold as ice – I'm going to die. There had been the night he'd run from the Minotaur, his first solo battle since leaving Lupa, the fight versus Iapetus – but somehow, he's survived it all and made his way here. And Jason's been through some crazy fights, too: he's fought a Titan and lived, so why is he suddenly hopeless now?

Something about Jason's words is rubbing Percy the wrong way. Something about Jason feels off, something he can't place – the way he's sitting, hunched in over himself, the way his eyes are searching constantly, the way his hands, clasped together, are shaking slightly.

Percy suddenly wants to bundle the poor guy up in a blanket, but he settles for placing a hand on his shoulder. Jason jolts at the touch, but then relaxes, and he even smiles, though Percy can tell it's forced.

"Is something up?" Percy asks quietly. "Are you having bad dreams or something about the Quest?"

Jason keeps his eyes on the horizon when he answers. "Not exactly." He doesn't elaborate, and Percy doesn't feel like pushing it. He just bumps him lightly in the shoulder.

"Whatever it is, it'll be okay," he promises. "You're Jason, son of Jupiter extraordinaire. If anyone's guaranteed to make it out of this alive, it's you."

Jason chuckles lightly. "Extraordinaire?"

"Master of the winds," Percy bellows. "Bringer of lightning storms."

"Shut up," Jason laughs.

"Only if you chill," Percy grins back.

Jason smiles, but it fades quickly. "Yeah. Okay."

The sky's turned a rich, dark blue. From where they are, Percy can see all the stars – it's breathtaking, like a million fireflies twinkling at them, brightly and endlessly.

"Percy," Jason says.

"Yeah?"

"I have to say it," he says in a rush. "And I'm not saying something will happen – but if something does happen to me, will you…will you take care of Piper?"

Percy stiffens, transported to another time, another child of the Big Three, another peaceful night under the stars like this-

Bianca had been shy, reluctant to take the lead even they'd figured out she was older than Percy, who was all too eager to shirk any and all responsibilities in favour of stealing a few extra cans of soda. She'd been sweet, caring, always insisting on cleaning Percy's wounds and stuff like that – she'd been a fast learner, and fiercely dedicated to helping Percy protect her brother.

"Promise me you'll protect him," she'd told him one night, when Nico had been curled up in Percy's oversized sweater, snoring into his sister's lap. "If something happens to me, will you protect him? Keep him safe?"

And then there had been Nico, cornering him shortly before the battle, eyes dark and scared as their army filed into formation beyond them.

"Please, Percy," he'd whispered, shaking in his too-big armor, "Promise you'll take care of Bianca. Promise me you'll keep her alive."

Two promises – and he hadn't even kept one. Percy feels a lump in his throat that clenches painfully when he looks into Jason's eyes and sees desperation there, and his heartstutters, because he's – he's not good at this stuff. In fact, he's horrible at it. Percy hates when people rely on him like this, because his biggest fear is of letting them down.

If Jason had any idea of how shit Percy is at keeping promises of this kind, he wouldn't be asking him in the first place.

But he looks at his friend and he can't say no – he can't.

He swallows. "You're going to be fine."

"Percy, please. Just-just in case," Jason pleads, eyes glassy and blue.

Percy wants to choke and cry and beg for Jason to ask him something else as a favor, anything else, really, but he still nods. Pushes down the urge to throw up, or refuse, or run away. Says, "Of course, dude," and acts like it isn't killing him inside to say the words.

/

Hazel is getting the slightest bit weary.

Portland is quite a nice city, she supposes. It's a bit cold when they arrive at the city limits, but Frank insists they keep moving.

Chasing a minor god is – not exactly what Hazel had expected she'd end up doing when she and Nico had parted ways, but, well, as Frank had once told her, shit happens (she's still getting used to that phrase, to be honest).

Hazel bites back a yawn, and then does it again when it sneaks back up on her: the previous night had been a sleepless one, spent on the banks of the stream where Frank had spotted the god a few days prior. Hazel had been caught in a flashback when Frank shook her awake, saying something about having a dream of seeing the minor god in Portland – which…okay, why would a minor god hang out in Portland, of all places? But Hazel had agreed to get moving, anyway.

Frank had spotted the god for the first time years ago on his way to Camp Jupiter, apparently, healing his wounds by a stream – he'd never really paid much notice back then, but a week or so ago, he'd seen the god again, this time using his water powers to catch some fish – Frank had disguised himself as a koi and tried to get closer, only he'd ended up nearly getting caught himself: he'd had to hit the god across the face to get away, and then he'd swum to their little camp downstream to relay the news to her.

"He's a minor god," Frank had reported earnestly, eyes gleaming. "Some offspring of Poseidon, I'm sure of it. He was doing magicky stuff with the water."

"All right," Hazel had said sleepily. "That's good."

"We have to go back and find him," Frank had said next, which had then proved to be an impossible task. They'd combed the woods for days until Hazel could recognize each tree, at which point she'd respectfully suggested they give up and get some sleep, which had worked for the most part, at least until this morning.

So here they are, roaming the city like a pair of lost children – which they practically are, although she doesn't feel much like a child anymore – looking for the bricked building Frank remembers from his dream.

"Are you sure it was Portland?" Hazel asks for what feels to be the millionth time, attempting to push her curls out of her eyes. The rubber band she'd, um, borrowed from another girl in the ladies' washroom back in Sacramento has all but lost its elasticity, and barely manages to keep her voluminous locks in place. Hazel would steal another one, given that she doesn't have the money to buy another, but she's never liked the idea of shoplifting, and maybe that's been reflected on her expression, because every shopkeeper she makes eye contact gives her the evil eye. She'll have to ask Frank to get her another one: he's mastered the knack of transforming into a goose and scaring all the patrons from a store, returning with several knickknacks and bobbles, and once, a whole box of cereal.

Frank, frowning at the skyline, merely grunts in response.

Hazel zones out, biting her bottom lip beneath her teeth, hoping that the pain it brings will be enough to prevent a flashback. They don't happen often, but she tends to slip into one when she relaxes even the slightest bit, which makes her life very difficult.

She doesn't know why the flashbacks are happening, exactly. She'll never say it aloud, but she suspects something went wrong when Nico (accidentally) brought her back – he'd been only thirteen or fourteen at the time, and the magic to bring back the dead isn't the kind to be messed with. Perhaps he'd made a mistake somewhere and succeeded in pulling Hazel from the Underworld only about ninety percent of the way through – at least, that's what it feels like to Hazel, sometimes. She feels – caught. Caught between the past and the present, between the Underworld and the real world, between life and death.

It's been around five years since coming back, she recalls, which would make her eighteen years old. And yet she's still not used to being alive – and alive in this strange new world that looks and feels nothing like the one she'd left behind seventy or so years ago. The buildings are taller, the technology far more advanced, and the people wear – shorter clothes. They speak in a brash, aggressive manner, dye their hair all kinds of insane colors, stick metal accessories through their noses and lips and tongues and eyebrows, and display their affection for each other loudly and publicly – Hazel's seen far too many couples engaging in all kinds of, ahem, passionate activities in the ladies' washroom. Frank says it's normal these days, but Hazel doesn't think she'll ever get used to it.

She doesn't ever think she'll grow accustomed to these strange new times. Hazel speaks differently, dresses differently – she feels like a grandmother compared to half of the kids she sees walking down the street. Everyone she's had a conversation with seems lovely, but she finds herself still wondering if she'll ever belong here.

Frank grabs her hand as they start walking again – and this is something she needs to get used to, too. Frank is smart and cute and he's been wonderful to her, grasping her hand to keep her grounded during the flashbacks and teaching her everything about the past decade. She likes him, she does, in a way she hasn't felt about anyone since Sammy, but Hazel still blushes like a fire truck when Frank so much at smiles at her, and it's getting to be a real problem. Frank's been a sweetheart about everything, though – learning that Hazel's been brought back from the dead had to have been a shock, after all – and he'd told her kindly that he liked her a lot and he would like to date her, but that they could take things slow while she got adjusted.

They've only kissed the one time – when Hazel had rescued Frank from some annoying little grain monsters. She had been the one to initiate it - largely out of relief to see him alive – planting a tiny peck to his lips and surprising him as much as it did her – and then he'd held her by the shoulders and pulled her to him and Hazel had nearly combusted on the spot.

The kiss had made her feel like she was soaring. It had been sweet and warm with her hands twisted into his shirt and his hands on either side of her like he was preventing an escape. Not that she intended to – not like she could even walk afterwards – but it had been nice to know he wanted to keep her there.

Afterwards, she'd leaned her head on his shoulder and tried to hide the fact that her face was so hot it could've boiled water.

She still squeaks every time she replays the scene in her mind's eye, which is, admittedly, pretty often. Hazel has – well, she has not had a lot of people who love her, and the fact that Frank does so openly and tenderly makes her entire heart warm.

She would like to grow accustomed to this new life soon, if only to gain the confidence to kiss him more often.

Hand-in-hand they navigate through the streets of the city, and Hazel even finds a five-dollar note caught between the cement of the sidewalk. She uses her powers to get the ground to loosen up a little: Frank grabs the money, and they use it to buy two hot dogs, which taste delicious.

There aren't too many monsters around, given that it's daytime, but they avoid the darker alleyways anyway, sticking to the main roads. They get a few looks from passers-by, which Hazel is used to at this point, but she still wipes at her face self-consciously, aware of the griminess of it. It's been almost a full day since she'd last bathed – well, patted her body down with a damp cloth – in the forest stream, and she's pretty sure there are still twigs in her hair. She and Frank probably look like vagrants, but the dirt helps hide their scent, and as long as they don't get stopped by the police, it's fine.

The search continues – Frank actually risks asking a traffic policeman about what he describes as "big and kinda red building", who points them in the direction of the Multnomah County Library, which is further from the city than they'd expected. It takes them an hour or so to walk there, which is fine with Hazel, because she likes spending time with Frank that doesn't involve running from monsters or him helping her recover from a flashback.

With the sun shining in earnest now, Hazel begins to grow tired from all the hiking. Frank, too, is sweating rather profusely, so she hands him her handkerchief. Frank's smile looks even prettier in the daytime, and his eyes glitter. He's so cute that it honestly makes her wonder why the hell he likes her, of all people – Hazel isn't smiley in the least and she is well aware that she looks like a trashcan most of the time. Whatever the reason, though, she is grateful – Nico and Sammy excluded, Frank is the most important person in her life – both her lives.

"That's it," Frank says excitedly as the building comes into view – it is, in fact, big and kinda red, as he'd so eloquently defined it being. Long and wide, with a set of majestic, broad stairs leading to the entrance, the library is surrounded by trees just beginning to grow fresh leaves. It looks old and beautiful, and Hazel, who is learning to appreciate anything and everything with a little history in this tech-y new world, likes it immediately.

They make their way round to the back of the library, where they're unlikely to be spotted. They duck behind a thicket of trees as Frank says, "He was up on the rooftop," and transforms into an eagle, perching on her arm.

"Don't be long," Hazel says, and the eagle nods once before launching into the air.

She watches him go, smiling, hoping for his sake they find the minor god. She would've suggested giving up ages ago had it not been for the reason Frank had told her for his obsession with the god. A legacy of Poseidon as well as a son of Mars, Frank just wants to know more about the Poseidon blood in him that allows him to change form and what the piece of firewood - tucked safely into her pocket - means.

Hazel forces down the pull she feels from the earth – the gemstones buried deep within the ground seem to always want to pop up around her, and it's harder to control when she's standing on soil rather than on asphalt. She closes her eyes and forces the treasures back down.

She's about to settle down behind a bush when she feels the presence. She draws her sword immediately, gazing further into the little woodland. Her heart beats quickly – the assailant must know what they are doing if they'd waited for Frank to leave her. She glares into the trees and yells out, "Come out. I know you're there."

Rustles reach her ears from all directions – Hazel whips her head around to the right, where a large figure comes into view. He's tall, handsome, with blonde hair and icy eyes. He holds a lance crackling with electricity, and he looks so grim and menacing that Hazel wonders if he is the minor god they'd been tracking.

From her left emerges another boy, who has brown hair - with horns sticking out of it – what? He isn't armed, but he lifts a set of wooden pipes to his lips and suddenly the bush behind her decides she's its worst enemy. It reaches out with thorny branches, winding around her legs and forcing her to cry out, though she somehow manages to keep a hold of her weapon.

"What are you doing here?" The blonde boy asks, brandishing his weapon. "Who are you looking for?"

Hazel glares at him and keeps her mouth shut even as the brambles cut into her skin.

"Look, if she's a demigod, maybe we should let her go," comes a voice, and this one sounds so heartwrenchingly familiar that it makes her entire body thrum.

Another boy steps into her lie of sight – brown skin, curly dark hair, a smile that screams of mischief.

Hazel's heart stops.

"Sammy?" She finds it difficult to speak in anything louder than a whisper, and her voice cracks embarrassingly.

The guy frowns. "What? No, I'm Leo."

"We're not letting her go," says the blonde guy to Leo – who Hazel can't stop staring at. He looks exactly as Sammy had, albeit taller and leaner. If Hazel had lived long enough to see Sammy grow up into a man, he would've looked exactly like Leo, and it makes her want to weep.

Leo is gazing at her as though he's in a trance. "But if she's a demigod-"

"Stop thinking with your dick," Blonde Hair reprimands, and both Leo and Hazel color – Hazel because of the crass language, and Leo for reasons unknown.

The horned boy steps up. "Why are you here?"

Frank chooses this moment to make an appearance – he must've seen everything from the sky. He barrels into Leo, turning back into a human, smashing a fist into his gut and drawing his bow, swiping it low so that the boy with horns falls to the ground with a yelp. Nocking an arrow as he rolls out of range of Blonde Hair's spear, he aims the point right at the third demigod's forehead, bringing them both to a standstill.

"Hazel," Frank says, breathing hard, "you okay?"

"Fine," Hazel says, gritting her teeth and trying to free herself.

Leo sits up, groaning, but holding his hands up in surrender. "Dude, you have no chill."

"You hid in the woods and attacked Hazel," Frank growls in a voice she's never heard before. He sounds furious. "And then I'm the one with no chill?"

"Put down the bow," says Blonde Hair.

"Put down your spear," Frank shoots back at once.

The boy with the horns shoots Hazel a look. "Jason, do it. They're demigods. And she's really confused."

"I am fairly confused," Hazel agrees.

"How do we know that they're half-bloods?" Jason demands. Sighing, the horned boy waves a hand, and the thorns retreat.

Hazel drops to her knees, wincing. "We are demigods," she says.

"Grover – we don't know what – look, they could be enemy demigods, here to spy on us and grab the book," Jason grunts, though his resolve is already wavering – she can tell by the way he struggles to hold onto his severe expression.

"Maybe you're the enemy demigods," Hazel says stupidly.

Leo gazes at her curiously, making her drop her gaze at once. Hazel senses Frank glancing her way and feels the tips of her ears go warm.

"She doesn't seem evil," Leo tells Jason, who scoffs.

"Leo, be smart about this," he says severely. "You're supposed to be supporting me, not flirting with her!"

Frank frowns as Hazel chokes on her own spit. Leo turns an interesting shade of red, and mutters something about nonsense and not doing anything like that, Jason, shut the hell up, you don't know what you're saying, but the mournful look on his face when he gazes across at her shows his real feelings about it.

"Jason, chill. Someone has to take the first step," he says quietly, and Jason sighs and drops the spear.

Frank reluctantly lowers his bow. He and Jason study each other suspiciously, and Hazel manages to get to her feet and make her way to Frank's side. She places her hand on his arm comfortingly, but he still doesn't relax.

Jason really does look like a minor god. He's good-looking in a kind of solemn way, and even with his weapon at his feet, something about him makes her uneasy, although maybe that's just the power she feels emanating from his every pore.

Her first thought about Grover is that he looks kind. He has a soft smile and wide brown eyes that give him the overall appearance of someone innocent and calm, although can't be human, with horns like those. He mouths a quick "Sorry," at her that really does come off as genuine, and Hazel finds she can't hate him for long, as she'd been determined to do – that bush had been really prickly, after all.

Leo is – Leo is –

He looks so much like Sammy she can't keep looking at him, for fear that she might burst into tears.

Jason and Frank continue sizing each other up, at least until Jason gazes at Frank's arm: his eyes widen.

"You're from New Rome?" he asks in a hushed voice.

Frank scowls. "Yeah. What's it to you?"

Jason rolls up the sleeve of his hoodie to reveal an SQPR brand exactly like Frank's. Frank splutters. Jason wonders aloud, "What are you doing here? Are you on a Quest?"

"No," Frank says shortly. "Well. Yes. I was, but I got separated from the others – I ran into Hazel later and, well. Here we are." He's omitting a lot of the story, but Hazel nods to back him up because it's not entirely false.

"Why are you here?" Jason stresses. "At this library? Why'd you go check the roof? And don't deny it – we heard you."

Frank relents. "I've been having dreams of this – well, he must be a minor god. I saw him in the Tualatin forests like –"

"A little less than two weeks ago," Hazel supplies.

"He must be a minor god," Frank says somewhat desperately. "A god of the river or something – I've seen him before, too, on my way to New Rome the first time. That first time he was healing himself, and this time he looked like he was catching fish – I dunno. I hoped that if we found him, we could…find somewhere to go. Get some guidance."

The three of them share a glance.

"Two weeks ago," says Grover, biting his lip. "Catching fish. And how did you get a look at him, exactly?"

Hazel can't help hiding a laugh at this. Frank goes pink and glares at her mildly.

"I turned into a fish," he admits, turning red. "Swam up to him. He almost caught me, too, but –"

"You hit him across the face and escaped," Grover finishes.

Frank and Hazel stare. "How'd you know?"

"I was there," Grover says. "Or at least, I was close by. You hit our friend – he was complaining about the rude koi for hours after." He cracks a sudden grin. "This is hilarious. He's going to flip."

"I'm going to flip," Leo moans, with a roll of his eyes that makes her heart jump uncomfortably. "You guys thought he was a minor god?"

"He's our friend," Jason says, with an air of amused exasperation. "He's a son of Poseidon, not a river god."

"The first time I saw him, he was healing his wounds just by running water over them!" Frank protests, though his ears have gone the same shade as a cherry. "How was I supposed to know?"

"Gods - even minor gods - have ichor, not blood," Grover points out, though his lips still twitch.

"My bad," Frank grumbles. "Not like I had anyone to compare him against."

"Fair enough," allows Jason, though his lips still twitch. "So you saw him here in a dream and decided to come investigate?"

"Yeah," Hazel says. "Seemed as good a shot as any."

Jason frowns. "Was there anyone on the rooftop just now, Frank?"

"No," Frank answers. "It was empty."

Grover frowns. "That's…not good."

"What's not good?" Hazel asks, determinedly avoiding looking at Leo.

Jason shoots her a grim look. "It's a long story." He hesitates. "Come with us for a while. We'll tell you everything."

/

Annabeth is stressed, and Percy isn't helping.

The supply run they were supposed to get done within the hour has now taken about a day, all because Percy had killed a monster in the middle of the store – the cashier, in fact, and although he hadn't really had much of a choice, they had been seen by about a dozen or so mortals and so forced to run.

Worse still –

"Percy, what's the twentieth letter of the alphabet?" Annabeth asks sweetly as she checks the contents of her bag.

"Um, T?" Percy asks, suddenly looking like that one petrified kid in class who hasn't done any studying and dreads being called on by the teacher.

"Yes, but you didn't get the tea, you got coffee," she snaps, holding up the box. "Damn it, Percy! You know we don't keep any milk at Nine, and only psychos like Leo drink black coffee."

"I only grabbed the wrong box because you were on my ass to Go faster, Percy, you're slower than a snail moving backwards," he mimics.

Annabeth shoots him a glare.

Luckily right after, they stumble right into an unattended fruit stall and grab an entire watermelon for literally no reason, which Percy insists must be fate.

"I think I could live off of just fruits for the rest of my life," he says sagely, tossing her an apple and shoving the fruit into her bag whole.

"That is a blatant lie," Annabeth returns, grinning. "You wouldn't last a week without a cheeseburger."

Now, en route from a town further away from the Bunker, rucksacks filled with toiletries and the like, Percy had suddenly stopped his narration of the harrowing tale of defeating a sea serpent that she's only half sure is true, before turning to her and announcing, "Ella is gone."

She turns to look at him in disbelief. It's near sunset, and the soft orange rays cast an impressive light over his face, turning him bronzed and statuesque. There is still monster dust scattered across the front of his black sweatshirt, and his gaze is sure and calm. Annabeth loses her train of thought.

Somehow, she finds herself wondering how she allowed Percy to become a permanent fixture in her life, because the unsettling fact remains that Percy, still, even after all these months, remains something of a mystery to her.

He's revealed precious little about himself following the conversation with Grover in the lonely little cave in the Tualatin Mountains – Annabeth doesn't want to prod him (okay, she kinda does), but it doesn't stop her from thinking about what he'd said back then. Percy's obviously been though a lot of trauma, and she doesn't want to discount any of his experiences, but suffering is common for demigods, and it doesn't quite explain why he's persisted so long in wandering around alone.

More importantly, it doesn't explain why someone who's been fighting solo for years is suddenly throwing in his lot with their group of demigods.

Piper and Jason and the rest might be satisfied after a surface-level investigation, but it's in Annabeth's nature to figure out what makes people tick – what motivates them, what drives them – and Percy is a five thousand-piece puzzle, the kind where all the pieces are the same color that make solving it ridiculously difficult.

And yet -

And yet, these days, her daily patrols are accompanied by Percy's familiar presence, and he always ropes in for a race back to their beds. Winner gets first dibs on Leo's mini-tacos, which they end up sharing anyway on the next patrol, which they spend distracting themselves by telling each other horror stories that end up being more funny than scary. Which is okay, because they get enough of scary in their real lives.

They spar a lot, and their sessions are a blur of punches and kicks and dodges and impressive manoeuvres that are laced with electricity. Neither of them hold back against in a fight and she thinks it's a testament to how much they respect each other, even though Percy sometimes pulls dirty tricks like freezing puddles in the ground to make her slip.

Once she'd ended up kicking him so hard she'd had to hold his arm around her shoulders while she dragged him to the infirmary. Likewise, Percy's made it a habit to bring some balm for her to rub on her knuckles when they get too bruised.

With Percy around, her days are filled with green eyes that positively crackle and crooked smiles that wake her up much better than her alarm does and twinkling laughter that makes her cheeks redden and bad puns that they all groan at and sleepy sighs on late nights on patrol shifts and this sense of – companionship and partnership and friendship that she hadn't realized she'd been missing.

Somehow, without her noticing, Percy has weaved himself in between all her usual moments and settled comfortably in the spaces of his life that had once been empty without her even noticing it. It's – nice. It's nice to feel like this.

And she finds she likes everything much better this way.

But there's a far more pressing matter at hand. First of all – "How do you know this?" she asks contemptuously. "Ella is in Portland. You-" she gestures to him –"are here." She spreads her arms around to indicate the glade of the woods they're currently traipsing through. "Unless you and Ella have some kind of telepathic connection-"

"Of course I don't have a telepathic connection with Ella," Percy responds, with equal verve. "I have it with Grover."

Annabeth rounds on him. "What?"

"I thought he told you!" Percy yelps, and he at least has the decency to shrug a little guiltily. "He did this empathy link thing-"

Annabeth doesn't reduce the intensity of her glare, although she does vaguely remember Grover saying something about an empathy link before he'd left on his Quest. She had been reading up on more of Archimedes's inventions at the time, though, so maybe she hadn't noticed.

Actually, she's fairly sure she hadn't listened to a single word Grover had said. She's just responded with a generic, "Great," and gone right back to reading.

Percy fixes her with an unimpressed look. "He did tell you, didn't he."

"Shut up," she grouses, and when Percy laughs, she feels the corners of her own mouth beginning to tug upwards, too. She twists it a little to avoid smiling.

She wonders offhandedly if she ought to feel jealous that Grover's chosen Percy to share an empathy link, but in truth she feels nothing but relief. She's far too caught up in researching the spheres, the Oracle, the Prophecy, and besides, she's got to worry about the spies in the Bunkers – and then, of course, there's Luke. Grover relaying messages in her head? No, thank you.

Plus, Grover and Percy get along well – Annabeth had caught most of their little heart-to-heart during the Quest, when they'd thought she'd been sleeping. She's happy they trust each other, and more than anything seeing Grover offer his friendship and faith to another child of the Big Three makes her happy beyond anything else. Grover had been the one to first find her – the first to find Thalia, and although it's more of an unspoken bond than anything, she knows he feels responsibility for the demigods he discovers. Grover cares for Annabeth the way an older brother would, and although he had never voiced his thoughts aloud, she can tell he blames himself for not being a good Keeper, for not protecting Thalia.

She suspects he feels the same kind of emotions for Percy – she hadn't really asked about the details of the mission that had brought Percy to Bunker Nine – but she has a suspicion that Grover had been the one to catch Percy's scent first. And if that's true, then Grover had probably chosen Percy out of everyone to form an empathy link with in order to keep tabs on him, the way he hadn't been able to do for Thalia.

Percy, on the other hand, had opened up far more to Grover than anyone else - seeing him cry so openly and brokenly had shaken her far more than she'd like to admit, and she'd found herself almost jealous as she'd wondered what it must've been like for him to have someone like his mother, someone he loved with all his heart and who had loved him dearly enough to sacrifice themselves for him.

Annabeth has never felt that kind of love before. Love from a parent, that is. She and Thalia had loved each other the ways sisters do, and she'd loved Luke in her own fierce way - if you'd asked her before the War if he loved her too, Annabeth would have responded with a resounding yes, because she truly had believed Luke loved her like family. Now, though, she's not so sure.

Her father had never loved her. He had merely tolerated her, for a time, until he found love in another woman. Annabeth had been basically shunned since birth, and when the monsters began to attack, she was treated as more of a pariah than anything else.

Movement from Percy brings her back to the present – the corners of his mouth pull into a deep, unconscious frown as he concentrates, and he then places two fingers at either side of his head and narrows his eyes like he's trying to levitate a stone in their path. Annabeth rolls her eyes at him.

"Grover says they found two new demigods," Percy reports, eyes wide. "One is a son of Mars who can apparently shapeshift? Wait, now he's laughing…" He wrinkles his nose. "He says he has a funny story for me."

"Okay, and?" Annabeth prompts. "Where exactly are all these new demigods coming from, again?"

"Grover says he's with a daughter of Pluto," Percy yells excitedly, and Annabeth claps her hand over his mouth at once, even though they're almost to the Labyrinth entrance and there's nobody close by.

"Keep it down," she says firmly, as Percy's expression clears and he nods. Annabeth drops her hands.

"He said he'll update me if he finds Ella," Percy tells her. "They're gonna go look for Tyson now."

Annabeth sets down her rucksack and leans against a tree. "Percy, if Ella really is missing, that's bad."

"I hope she's okay," Percy says, biting his lower lip distractedly, his green eyes clouded with apprehension.

"Percy, if monsters came for her, that means, most likely, that there's a traitor in our core group," Annabeth murmurs, and a cold chill runs through her even as she voices the thought. "Shit – I was stupid, I think I mentioned Portland-"

She digs the heel of her palm into her forehead, going back to the assembly at Bunker One. Annabeth, Percy, Grover, Malcolm, Bea, Leo, Beckendorf, Jake, Piper, Jason, Mitchell, Lacey, Silena, Katie, Miranda, Clarisse, Sherman, Travis, Connor, Castor, Pollux, Maya, Harry, Holly, Clovis, Damien, Butch, Cassidy, Chiara, Paolo, Will, Michael. She can't imagine any of them secretly consorting with the Titans – they're her friends.

"Wasn't your fault," Percy replies, although he hesitates before he says it. "Look, maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe we were tracked during the Quest. But either way-"

"Either way, we're keeping whatever we find to ourselves going forward," Annabeth finishes firmly, and Percy nods stiffly. "We won't even tell anyone about these attacks – we'll keep it between us, and maybe Piper." She runs a hand down her dagger, and the feel of the soothing metal calms her down. "We need to be sure who else we can trust before we tell them anything." She closes her eyes, wincing. "Oh god, and we revealed so much during the meeting."

"Let's not jump to conclusions, either," Percy says, bending down to rub at his leg. A couple of tampons spill out of his bag as he does so and he catches them before they fall. "But you're right – we'll be careful."

"Tell Grover to be on his guard," she says, suddenly worried. "If they're attacked, or followed…"

"He knows," Percy guarantees.

Annabeth rolls her shoulders and picks the bag up again. It's heavy – full of tools and metal bits from the hardware store. Percy's carrying a much lighter bag, full of soap and shampoo and other essentials, as a reward for winning a game of Find the Invisible Annabeth. He's made several jibes about the lightness of his load without once offering to help her, and she's not sure whether to be frustrated at his teasing, or flattered that he seems to think she can handle her own weight. Which she can, of course, but her back is beginning to hurt.

They continue through the woods until Percy grabs her arm.

"You hear that?" he says, hushed.

She strains her ears, and, upon hearing nothing but the soft crunch of the leaves in the evening breeze, she's about to tell Percy off when she hears it, too. A voice, screaming. It sounds human.

"Could be a monster trying to lure us," she says doubtfully, but the screams grow louder and she shudders.

"We'll check it out," Percy says. "If something weird is up, we'll come back."

"Fair enough," she agrees.

They store their packs in a bush and draw their weapons, sprinting ahead in the direction of the voice. Annabeth occasionally slashes through the tree trunks they pass to mark them for the journey back, and Percy stays behind her, moving quietly and surely, poised for a fight.

The screams grow louder – when they're close enough, Annabeth signals for Percy to stop. Then she puts on her cap and steals forward alone.

Her eyes scan, passing over the monster and the other figure to rest on the unconscious form.

It's a gruesome sight. The demigod is on the ground, writhing and bleeding, as his companion attempts to fight off a telekhine – however, he doesn't seem all that experienced with a sword, and he's only succeeding in pushing the monster back rather than actually getting a few hits in.

Annabeth takes off her cap and beckons for Percy to come forward just as the demigod on the ground screams again. The poor guy's face is covered in blood.

Percy and Annabeth look at each other and nod – she's not sure when and how they got so used to communicating non-verbally during a fight, but it's definitely an asset. She's glad to have him, really – she's grown to like him in a completely different way compared to how she feels about her other friends; Percy seems to think like her in a lot of ways the rest don't and she likes the fact that she's slowly beginning to earn his loyalty.

Percy sneaks behind the monster as Annabeth circles around to the wounded demigod, who seems to be caught in his own head. He doesn't even seem to notice her kneeling next to him.

The other demigod startles when Percy appears with a roar and a slash of his sword, cleaving the monster cleanly in half. Annabeth places a hand on the shoulder of the injured guy, but retracts it quickly when he screams again, bringing up both hands to cover his ears.

She squints at him. He looks – vaguely familiar, through all the blood and dirt caked on his face.

The other demigod drops to his knees at her side. "Is…is he okay?"

"I don't know," Annabeth says truthfully.

"What are you doing here?" Percy asks, wiping his sword down on his jeans. "How'd your friend get – like this?"

The boy hesitates. "I- We were travelling from New Jersey…and these things attacked us in New York. I don't know, something was telling me to get here-"

"You don't know anything?" Annabeth asks, suddenly suspicious. The boy shakes his head, frowning in a particularly pitiful manner. "How'd you get the sword?"

"Found it in lying in a ditch somewhere in these forests, and it seemed like the only thing that worked against…whatever these things are," the boy says, which is just vague enough to be true, but Annabeth's guard goes right up. She studies him. He looks around their age, with black hair and a narrow face, but there's something about him that makes her uneasy – maybe it's his eyes, she decides, which are black like Percy's hair, and gleam with a strange intelligence.

"What's your name?" she asks casually. Anything to keep him talking.

"Ethan," says the boy.

"And you came all the way from New Jersey?" Percy asks doubtfully.

"Yeah," Ethan says. "But as soon as we got here, we got attacked. That telekhine hit my friend on the head and he started – having these fits."

Something feels off about him, and Annabeth hesitates for a split second before it hits her.

"How did you know that was a telekhine?" she asks, placing a hand on her dagger. "If you're so new to our world-"

Percy's sword is at Ethan's neck in a flash. "You just called that monster whatever these things are a second ago."

Ethan stills as Percy's blade touches his neck. "I-" he stammers.

Annabeth takes a closer look at the shaking demigod on the ground and pales when she recognizes him. Blond hair matted with blood and dirt, he is covered in splinters and fine lines of crimson, the blood quickly soaked up in the dust. He looks like he's their age, if not a little older.

"This is Chris Rodriguez," she says, stunned. "He was one of the ones who went missing during the War." She looks at Percy sharply, her voice frozen. "Search him."

Percy pats Ethan down, removing a sleek dagger strapped to his calf. He glances at him, eyebrows raised. "What's this? Where'd you get it? And why weren't you using it if you were fighting a monster?"

Ethan's teeth click as he shuts his mouth. His eyes are wide. He glances downwards quickly as though bewildered by the weapon. He shrugs as though he'd been expecting something far more profound, and then turns back to Percy as though baffled by the mundane question. "What?"

Percy's gaze hardens as he then reaches into Ethan's pockets and pulls out a compass similar to Annabeth's own, and small black pouch. He tosses both to Annabeth. The compass has gone haywire, luckily, with the point leading away from Bunker Nine, but the sight of it makes her shiver with dread. Chris had been a senior demigod during the War, and even if he hadn't been allotted a compass to lead him back to any nearby Bunker, he could've easily stolen Clarisse's. If he's been working for the Titans all along, that means the locations of their home has possibly been exposed.

Feeling sick to her stomach, she stamps on it with a vengeance.

She looks at the fabric of the little pouch, noting the crude sewing that's holding it together. Bemused, and then sticks her finger through the opening at the top and withdraws a silver chain with a single charm attached to it.

Dropping the cloth, she takes a hard look at the necklace, examining it closely, and she looks up, horrified, when recognition clenches her heart.

"A scythe," she hisses at Ethan, getting in his face, and the ridges on Percy's forehead smooth in understanding, followed shortly by horror. "You work for Kronos? What the fuck are you doing here? You trying to get into our camp?"

Giving up on his pretense all at once, Ethan sneers at her. "Well, we must be close if you're here, Annabeth." And she must startle at her name, because he snorts. "Yeah, we know you. We remember you from the War – one of us has very fond memories of you, even."

She bristles, even though her heart stutters a bit at that last part. Very fond memories could only be Luke, she thinks with a horrible pang, and at once a man with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes comes to her traitorous mind. Annabeth exhales slowly, trying to calm her heart, and she forces the image of him away with some difficulty. She takes another breath and tries to focus on the matter at hand, even though her racing mind doesn't seem capable of rational thought just yet.

When she meets Percy's eyes, she can tell that he's come to the same conclusion as she, and he looks far more unforgiving than she feels.

"You can tell them to shove it," she says, harshly and untruthfully.

"How did you find us?" Percy asks roughly, shaking Ethan.

"Saw you in the town, it wasn't planned," Ethan says reluctantly, eyeing Percy's sword with disdain.

Annabeth curses. "And I suppose you set us up?" She doesn't wait for an answer; she knows it's true. "And you can tell your friend to stop putting up an act now." She glances downwards at Chris.

Percy's sword presses further in, and Ethan grunts, glaring at him. "He's not putting on an act. He spent too long looking for your stupid base in the Labyrinth and something's happened. I thought you were supposed to be smart."

Somehow the kid is getting on every single one of her nerves, and it's a real effort to not cut his head off right here and now – only the possibility of charmspeaking information out of him keeps her sword where it is.

"We'll take him to Piper," she tells Percy, who understands at once.

Annabeth lifts Chris from the ground, who goes even more hyper at the contact. It's a pain to keep him in place, and while she's trying to hold him up, Ethan sees his chance and begins to struggle, too.

By what must be the worst stroke of luck in the world, Chris flails so hard he hits Percy's sword out of his hand, hurting his own arm, which immediately begins to pour blood. He screams even more at the sight of it, elbowing Annabeth in the chin, and Percy steps forward at once, the noble fool.

Ethan moves faster than she ever could've imagined. Percy, caught unawares, doesn't manage to guard against his kick in time. Ethan lands a solid blow to Percy's head, and Percy crumples at once – Ethan reaches for Percy's sword, but Annabeth drops Chris like a sack of potatoes and slashes out with her own knife in warning, slamming herself on top of Percy with a bit more force that what was probably advisable for someone in his likely-half-concussed state, but she refuses to feel guilty about that.

Ethan darts away with a hiss, and Annabeth uses the extra distance between them to haul Chris up again and sticks the weapon at his throat.

"I'll kill him," she warns him, though her heart is pounding as she says it, because she knows Chris. Or at least she'd known him at one point. He'd been an acquaintance, and more importantly, he'd been Clarisse's childhood friend – how would Annabeth be able to face the daughter of Ares if she killed her friend in cold blood?

Ethan laughs coldly. "Keep him," he grins. "He's useless, anyway."

Annabeth's mouth drops open in her disgust and shock. "You're honorless."

"Better to be honorless than to die for a madman," Ethan says, eyeing her closely. "Besides, he's messed up in the head now."

Annabeth stares him down without fear – he's disarmed, after all, and Annabeth is willing to take the bet that she's faster.

No, Ethan would be stupid to fight her. His best option would be to run.

They both must come to the same realization, because Ethan's gaze shifts from her to the trees around them. It's already growing dark, and Annabeth is not in the best position to be following him, what with Percy drooling on the ground. She would be risking three of their lives – her own, Chris's, and Percy's – if she chose to give chase, and there's no guarantee that Ethan is alone. Possibly he has allies waiting for him close by, and he could lead her into a trap.

Ethan salutes her snottily and turns to go, but Annabeth, in a fit of rage at the hopeless situation she's in, unclasps one of her smaller daggers from underneath her sleeves and lobs it at him in an effort to get the last blow in. By the shriek of pain that follows, she knows she's hit her mark.

Ethan's hands, cradling the side of his face, come away, slick with blood. "You bitch," he growls, advancing on her, but Annabeth throws another dagger, and he only barely manages to dodge this one.

"You gonna fight?" she taunts, drawing Luke's knife, hoping he'll take the bait.

Ethan's face is coated in red, and the drops trickle over his lips when he bares his teeth in an eerie grin. "I don't take revenge lightly," he warns, before hightailing it away from her – away from the Bunker entrance, she's pleased to notice – and besides, he'd looked too injured to be in any state to follow her.

Suddenly furious at herself for not knocking him out immediately, she compensates for it by punching Chris in the jaw, so hard that he hits the ground with a loud thump and goes limp immediately. Seeing how pathetic he looks, knocked out cold, makes it easy to take pity on him.

She groans loudly, burying her face in her hands. The necklace with the scythe on it glints not too far away, and Annabeth crawls over to it, running the cool metal between her fingers.

A communication device? she wonders. Or is it just a token of identification for the enemy demigods? Maybe they show it to monsters, to tell them that they're on the same side. That could be useful, if true, but Annabeth pockets it, wary. She'll have to keep an eye out for a similar charm at the Bunkers.

Slowly, she gets to her feet and makes her way to Percy. The sight of his pone figure slumped over in the dirt makes her shiver a little as she sees her own mortality in his stillness.

Up close, he looks peaceful enough to be sleeping, breathing softly into the ground, and she almost doesn't want him to wake up, because when he does he will probably look all kinds of soft and muddled that will make her want to scowl at him furiously. There's a large bump on his head where he got hit, and she smooths his hair back almost unconsciously. It's far softer than she had expected, and his skin is warm.

He sighs under her touch, and she retracts her hand, blushing heatedly, but when he doesn't show any signs of consciousness, she lets the soft pads of her fingers press lightly against the cut of his jaw. She wants to smile for literally no reason at all, and Annabeth can almost feel her heart slowly begin to bleed into her head – it's dangerous, she thinks. Very dangerous. Very dangerous, how ridiculously attached she's grown to the son of Poseidon who seems to have made it his personal mission to deconstruct years' worth of carefully-constructed mental and emotional blocks.

"You owe me for this," she grumbles softly.

Then she hauls both Percy and Chris up onto her shoulders and begins the long trek back home.

/

Leo's kinda feeling…not so hot right now.

It's not because Ella is missing. It's not because he has no clue where to start looking for the Dragon.

It's because Hazel, who had shown extreme interest in him at first, is now ostracising him entirely. She ignores all his meagre attempts at small conversations, and she doesn't even react to his jokes. She won't even meet his eyes, for gods' sake. Leo feels like an exile on his own damn Quest.

Plus, Leo can tell, by the way she and the Asian dude – Frank – are interacting, that they're together, or at least on their way to getting there. Which sucks even more, because if Leo had a type – well, really, his type is anyone cute and interesting who shows the least bit of interest, but anyway, if he had a type, Hazel would definitely be it.

It hadn't exactly helped that right after she'd introduced herself and proved her parentage, he'd taken one good look at her and blurted out, "You seem down-to-earth," which he's still trying to convince himself he'd said in an effort to break the ice. Anything to kill the tension hanging around them. He'd attempted to meet her gaze, but she seemed determined to study every inch of her shoes.

Hazel is beautiful. Dark skin the color of, well, dark chocolate – of which Leo's a huge fan, for anyone willing to donate a truckload of it – and insanely curly hair that frames her face in a fluffy afro-style, which Leo thinks makes her look sunny. She's shorter than him, which is a relief, because Leo has always been insecure about being 'a tiny little gremlin,' as Piper puts it. Her eyes though - they're like liquid gold when they catch the light just right, swirly and mysterious. Almost like Maya's when she's doing magic, but Hazel's are like that, like, all the time.

It doesn't make sense to Leo that a daughter of Pluto would have eyes so full of life.

Her eyes only serve to remind Leo about the pure metals he needs for the spheres, and that makes Leo even more depressed. He's got so much to do and so little time to do it – and besides, now they've got the harpy to worry about. Leo isn't an idiot. He knows that if Ella or whatever had really been attacked, her location had to have been disclosed by someone from the Bunkers – which means someone he knows is a traitor for the enemy. Leo hates even thinking about it.

Thank the gods for Grover, honestly – thanks to his weird new mind connection to Percy, he'd gotten the message across to him and Annabeth quickly. Annabeth is no doubt taking very possible measure to find the mole, which makes Leo feel a teeny bit better, at least, but it still worries him.

Next on Leo's List of Things to Worry About is Jason, who isn't himself – hasn't been himself for a while, really. The Prophecy must be really taking a toll on him – he hasn't slept much, and Leo has heard him crying out softly as he breaks out of the nightmares. Leo, who's been sleeping next to him, usually awake after his own nightmares, wishes he knew how to help him, but he's never been good with people, and he really doesn't have a single idea of what to say to his friend, so he ends just faking a snore or something, waiting until Jason settles down again. These are the times he really feels like a shitty friend, but he just – he just doesn't know what to say.

Leo's own dreams have turned from visions of the Bronze Dragon to just – these flashes of fire that leave him gasping for breath every time. Fire has never scared him before – he was born with it, it runs in his veins, it cannot burn him – but the flames of his dreams are wild and sinister, and for the first time, Leo understands why so many people fear the element.

"I'm tired," Leo complains without preamble, if only just to break the silence between them and maybe engage the two newbies in some friendly conversation. "Gods, it feels like this week has gone on forever."

Hazel and Frank only look at each other as though regretting their decision to join them.

"It's Monday," Jason says.

"Don't remind me," Leo groans.

The afternoon quickly dims into the evening, and when Grover finally locates the alleyway where he'd first found Tyson, it is nighttime and the streets are lit up with neon. Cars travel up and down the roads and the sidewalks are packed with people, talking and laughing and leading their normal lives.

The alley is right behind an Indian restaurant that smells like heaven – it's taking every ounce of Leo's strength to not drool on the spot, but at least everyone else seems equally affected. Hazel's throat bobs as she swallows and Frank looks dazed as the smell of the spices overtake their senses. Jason inhales deeply, his face relaxing for the time in days.

They wander deeper into the lane, and the noise and lights from the main road fade away into a dull buzz. Grover leads the way, sniffing audibly, and after tripping over – something, Leo gives up on their cover and conjures a small flame in his palm.

A sharp gasp from behind him reminds him of their newcomers, and Leo turns around sheepishly. Frank and Hazel's eyes are wide – Hazel's turn to a warn copper color from the orange of the fire – and they both take a step back when Leo faces them properly, bringing the fire in front of him to see them better.

"Oops," he says, pointing to himself with his free hand. "Son of Hephaestus. Fire user. We're a rare breed."

"Oh," says Frank in a small voice. "So…you do that often, then?"

"I mean, I ain't too good with a sword," Leo admits. "And the fire comes in handy most of the time. We spend a lot of time in caves and stuff. But I have good control, promise." He squints at their nervous faces. "Are you – are you guys okay?"

There's silence for a while, during which Leo tries to decode their expressions in the dim, flickering light. He comes up empty and wills the spark in his hand to shrink a little, unsure of what else to do. Their blatant discomfort is obvious enough, even though it puzzles him. Everyone he's come across has always been in awe of his gift, jealous, even. Nobody – at least none of the demigods in Bunker Nine – have looked at him with such blatant fear before, and Leo finds he doesn't like it.

"It's fine," Frank chokes out, after a painfully awkward silence. "It's just –"

"I'm a little - afraid of fire," Hazel cuts in, shooting Frank a look that Leo can't decipher. "It's – it's okay, really, but could you just warn me when you use your fire next time?" She shoves her hands into her pockets like she's afraid of getting whatever parts of exposed skin burnt and gives Leo a sheepish little smile. It's the first time she's really, voluntarily interacted with him, but Leo isn't sure what to feel about it.

"Sure thing," he says quickly, even though his heart sinks. He's – he's a fire user. It's who he is – Leo had never really put that much effort into learning swordplay, and his aim with a bow and arrow is appalling. The fire is what sets him apart, makes him special. It's a blessing from his dad, a super rare ability that apparently no child of Hephaestus has had the pleasure of wielding in nearly a century. Leo's proud of his powers, and he covets it like a private treasure.

He knows fire can be hot and scary and destructive. He's known ever since he was six and his powers started coming in, first in the form of little embers flying from his fingertips, and later as tongues of flames themselves, curling around his palm like some kind of sizzling snake. Leo's fires have burned pretty much every bit of childhood memorabilia over the years – teddy bears gone up in flames, books turning to ash, the house he had lived in rising in an inferno that had killed his mother but left him untouched.

Leo had thought himself a freak for a long, long time – a secret mutant, like the X-Men – until meeting Piper, but even her charmspeak isn't close to being as flashy as Leo's fire. Only after joining the Bunker did Leo begin to really feel proud of his gifts – he began to learn to use and it control it instead of treating it like a curse. He'd learned that using magic was like playing an instrument, in that it takes a lot of practice, and a lot of focus. And like most fields of study and expertise, some are more talented than others, but regardless, Leo had realized that using his powers without anything to hold him back was like belting out a high note in an empty concert hall, or playing a powerful song on the guitar. It gave him a thrill that lingered in his chest for days on end.

It had helped, too, that everyone in the Bunkers were readily accepting of him and his fire and all the quirks because of it, including his hair smoking when Leo got worked up. Besides, Leo is far from the weirdest kid at camp. If they could accept the children of Hypnos, who literally sleepwalk everywhere, and the children of Demeter, who spent most of their time talking to plants, it made sense that they would take in Leo as one of their own, too.

Frank and Hazel might hide their emotions well, or perhaps Leo's just bad at reading them, but the look that had flashed across their faces felt an awful lot like rejection.

Silently he turns back to the front and waves for Grover to move on. Jason slides up to his side, not close enough to touch, but his solid aura calms Leo down a little. Jason meets his eyes and shrugs in a very can't please 'em all kind of way, and Leo feels a little better.

Grover holds up a hand and brings their little party to a halt. "I smell something."

Slowly he steps forward. "Tyson? Uh, is that you?"

There's a sniffling from up ahead, and a voice says, "Maybe."

Leo snorts. Jason elbows him.

"It's, uh, Grover." Grover clears his throat to hide the very evident tremble in his voice. "Percy's friend."

"Percy?" says the voice, and the cyclops emerges from behind a large dumpster.

Even though Percy, Annabeth, and Grover had all warned Leo about Tyson, he still feels a shudder run through him at the sight of the monster. Percy had drilled it into him that Tyson is friendly, he's like a child in monster-age, but still Leo has to push down the urge to run. Next to him, Jason's wrapped his fingers so tight around the coin Ivlivs that his knuckles have gone white.

Frank and Hazel shift closer together: Leo chances a glance at them and notices they're holding hands – which, ugh.

Grover, the only one of them who has actually met Tyson before, strangely seems the most terrified of the group. He lets out a nervous little bleat. "Uhm, hello there. Do you remember me?"

"Yes," Tyson confirms, and his voice is soft. It is so weird hearing a monster sound as scared as Leo feels. "Is Percy here?"

"He couldn't come," Grover replies. He waves a hand at the rest of them, and Leo makes his fire a little brighter so they can all see better.

Tyson gasps and points at Jason, who jumps. "Blonde hair and blue eyes! I must tell Percy!"

"No, not him." Grover's voice sounds strangled. "The guy you're supposed to look out for has blonde hair, blue eyes, and a scar down the side of his face."

Leo blinks for a solid thirty seconds before he gets it. "Luke? He's supposed to keep an eye out for Luke?"

"Good plan," Jason murmurs. "He is a monster, nobody would suspect a thing."

"Who's Luke?" Frank asks curiously.

"Long story," Leo admits. "Maybe later."

Tyson is now assessing Leo's flaming palm with a kind of childlike wonder that immediately warms him to the big guy. He doesn't look scared at all – he looks excited, and Leo grins, because of course. Cyclopes are born for the forges just as children of Hephaestus are. Fire is second nature to them.

At least some people like his fire around here, he thinks smugly. He addresses the Cyclops. "Hey, Tyson. I'm Leo. Percy's friend. We came here to see you. I hear you're a fan of peanut butter and jelly."

"It is my favorite!" Tyson says happily, clapping his two ginormous hands together.

"We were planning on getting some," Grover says, shooting Leo a grateful look. "We were wondering…if Ella wanted to come too?"

"I will ask her!" Tyson says agreeably.

Grover sighs in relief. "You know where she is?"

"I will bring her!" Tyson booms, and then runs further into the alley and out of sight.

"Well, that was easy," Jason says, sounding surprised.

"I like him," Leo decides.

Grover mutters a soft prayer under his breath. "I'm not surprised."

"I can't believe you have friends who know monsters," Frank chimes in, letting go of Hazel's hand and stepping forward.

"This is the same friend you wanted to meet so bad," Leo points out pettily. Frank blushes, and he looks Leo a half-hearted glare.

"Even so," says Hazel, in that quiet voice of hers, exchanging a loaded look with Frank, "how can we be sure we can trust him? What if he just comes back with a…whole horse of monsters…" Her voices trails off into nothing as Tyson returns, his footsteps making the earth quake. Behind him shuffles another figure – a thin harpy with reddish hair who must be Ella. Grover sighs noisily at the sight of her.

"Thank the gods," he says. "Tyson, why…why is she here with you?"

Tyson shuffles, fixing his single eye on the harpy, who looks uncomfortable under the spotlight of their inquiring gazes.

"Heard monsters looking for a harpy in Portland," he says plainly, and Leo sucks in a breath. "So I thought it would be good to hide her."

"Tyson takes care of Ella," says Ella in a small voice, and she looks up at the cyclops and smiles tremulously.

Leo's opened his mouth to say something to lighten the mood – Jason and Grover look grave at the implications of what Tyson's just said, and Frank and Hazel look apprehensive of the entire situation altogether, but Ella saves him the trouble.

She glances at Grover and a flash of recognition passes through her eyes. "Beneath the Earth his spirit wanes-"

"Yes, about Pan, I know," Grover says, pained. "I'll be on my way soon-"

But the harpy isn't done. She stares right at Leo. "To rout the storm the fire must fall."

"Storm?" Leo instinctively looks at Jason, who meets his eyes, stunned and horrified. "What did you say? Can you repeat it? I gotta write it down so I don't forget-"

"Are those prophecies?" Frank chimes in from behind them, sounding equal amounts terrified and curious. "Where is she even getting them from?"

"When we said she was important, we weren't lying," Grover murmurs under his breath, taking off his cap to ruffle his hair. "There's a reason the monsters are after her."

Ella cranes her neck to find Hazel. "What comes from the earth will always return to it," she says in a monotone, and Hazel makes a tiny choking noise.

Frank steps forward at once, shielding the tiny girl with his entire body. "Look, how about we just…stop."

"You must raise the Fifth," Ella informs him. "From the depths where they are waiting, and from the cocoon of their shelter."

"What?" Frank demands, sounding troubled. "What depths?"

"Let's all calm down." Jason steps in front of Ella, frowning. "Tyson, could you get her to stop, she's upsetting some of our friends." Clearly he means Hazel, who stands aghast and unmoving, her palms pressed tightly over her mouth as if preventing a scream. Leo's a bit stunned himself – Percy hadn't mentioned his harpy friend was prophetic – but he can barely remember what Ella had told him, let alone the others.

"Child of lightning," Ella interrupts, gaze fixed upon Jason, who has turned a sickly white, "the choice is clear-"

"We should go," Jason cuts in loudly. "We can't

"Good job, Tyson," Grover says, running a hand down his reed pipes thoughtfully. He turns back to look at the rest of them. "We can't stay here. If the monsters are after her –"

"Where do we take her?" Jason crosses his arms, frowning. "Nine?"

"Nine?" Frank asks, looking lost.

"Bunker Nine," Leo tells him.

"Huh?"

"Oh, right, you're Roman," Leo remembers. "My bad." Frank scowls at him.

"We need to get out of here," Jason says, shooting Leo a look. "Like, right now."

"I spotted a park on the way here," Grover suggests. "Let's go."

/

The park gates are closed, which Hazel supposes is just their luck.

'Well, this is great," says Leo, too brightly, with a grin so like Sammy's it makes something deep within her hurt.

The resemblance is unnatural, eerie. Hazel wants to look at him all the time, map out the similarities and the differences, and she does not want to look at him at all. She's doing a rather poor job of both, she thinks, ignoring him entirely for a while and then overcompensating for her rudeness by staring at him fervently for several minutes at a time.

She's well aware she's acting like a crazy person. Leo seems to have picked up on it, too – she's caught him looking at her confusedly once or twice, which is honestly just. Peachy. Now he thinks she's insane - or bipolar, at the very least.

It doesn't help that Leo looks insanely like Sammy, albeit older. He's the endearing kind of cute, the type of person who can never get their clothes to fit him properly, and he reminds Hazel of a younger boy, all knobbly knees and pointy elbows and gangly gait. The air about him is very reminiscent of the schoolboys from her generation, the ones from St. Agnes, even though Leo isn't that young. He also has this - this slightly manic-looking but very open, friendly grin that you can't help but respond to in some way. Hazel can even tell that Frank, though extremely off-put by the other boy's powers, is drawn to Leo despite all his attempts to act aloof.

Something about Leo is captivating, and if even though he seems to have an awful case of foot-in-mouth disease whenever they lapse into an uncomfortable silence, he's still managing to camouflage his awkwardness quite nicely.

She could just ask for his last name, the last iota of the sane part of her urges. But then again, when they first did their introductions, none of them had used their last names, so asking him would be rude.

She shakes her head subtly, scared of getting lost in her own head. It's a bad habit of hers, and almost always leads to a flashback, which she honestly a part of her that she really doesn't want to expose to their new allies, however nice they might seem.

Because they do seem nice. Grover – a satyr, he'd explained to them – had healed the cuts from before with a simple poultice he kept in his pack, and Jason's slightly chilly exterior had melted away as the hours went by. Leo, of course, is overfamiliar and loud and full of bad jokes – half of which she doesn't even get, but she does have to admit she enjoys the comical groans Jason lets out in response to them.

The three of them are close, she can tell. Jason and Leo seem to trust Grover's tracking skills enough not to even think of questioning him, Leo and Grover automatically look to Jason when they're making a decision, and Grover and Jason don't even flinch when Leo creates flames – flames from nothing, dancing on his fingertips. The orange and yellow casted across his face in the darkness had make him appear deadly and magical, and Hazel had been captivated.

Frank, she knows, is still wary of Leo, as Hazel should be, too. She's got Frank's piece of firewood bundled carefully in her pockets, but with Leo right next to her, she might as well be standing in a fireplace.

Her fake proclamation regarding being afraid of fire – Hazel isn't proud of herself for it, because there had been a selfish reason behind the lie. Frank, who had squeezed her hand tightly in thanks after she'd said it, clearly hadn't suspected a thing, but how could he? How could he even begin to think that Hazel had covered for him not only to keep his secret, but also in the hope that Leo might avoid her if he thought she was scared of fire?

She glances quickly at him, now, to where he's draped casually over a pensive Jason. He notices her looking and smiles, and Hazel immediately fixes her gaze onto the pavement – when she looks back up again, Leo's focussed on the locks on the gate, a slight frown on his lips, and Jason is staring between them with a curious expression.

"I could shapeshift into something small enough to slip through the bars," Frank says, frowning.

"What about the rest of us, though?" Jason points out.

"I can break it," Tyson offers from right behind her, and Hazel has to supress a shudder. She doesn't know much about the mysterious demigod who Frank had mistaken for a minor god – which makes her feel incredibly stupid for all their months tracking him – but someone who makes friends with monsters cannot be right in the head. Even though Tyson and Ella seem to be fairly harmless so far, she keeps one hand on her spatha.

"No, no, no need for that," Grover butts in at once, sounding at once annoyed and terrified.

Snapping herself into attention, Hazel steps in front of them. "Let me handle this," she says, examining the chains. They're iron – harder for her to manipulate, but she's done it before.

"Hazel-" says Frank, sounding that way he does when his forehead gets all wrinkly in his worry.

"What," says Jason.

"Metals are easy for me," Hazel says, narrowing her eyes. She focuses on the lock, which opens by itself when she glares at it hard enough, and the chains fall away.

Hazel grins proudly at everyone's stunned reactions – Jason shoots her a half-smile as though welcoming her to the elite Big Three club or something, and it makes her feel quite happy, if she's being honest. Hazel had been dead-set on introducing herself as a daughter of Ceres or something (with a specialty in soil), but then Jason had stepped up and said he was a son of Jupiter, and Hazel had been so shocked she'd revealed her true parentage.

With the exception of Nico, she's never met another child of the Big Three before. Nico had been around her age when he'd brought her back from the Underworld, and he'd disappeared shortly after. She supposes Jason is something like her cousin, given their parentage, and he does seem older-brother-esque, tall and strong and solid and reassuring, but he looks just about as unrelated to her as Nico had. The bottom line is both boys are white – Nico almost unhealthily so – and Hazel can't really see herself coming to terms with the fact that these boys are the last family she has left.

"Thank the gods for you, Hazel," Grover says. He pushes through the gates, letting Tyson and Ella walk in front of them. When everyone's passed through, Hazel makes the chains wind themselves around the gates again, just to ensure their privacy.

Leo's mouth has dropped open. "You're a metalbender!"

"A what?" she asks, curious. Frank, who's placed a hot, lingering touch on her lower back, shoots Leo a puzzled look.

"From Avatar," Leo says, as though it should be obvious.

"What?"

"You're one of those, huh?" Leo shakes his head at Jason. "Well, Jace, you've got company, at least."

"You told me about Avatar!" Jason snaps his fingers. "That's about the kid who can control all the elements! Everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked!" Hazel understands none of it, but she files it away for future reference just in case.

"It did," Leo agrees, lighting his fingers up and cackling loudly, probably just to get in the mood, but then Frank – and, by extension, Hazel - flinches and he winces, putting it out at once. "Oops, sorry."

"I still don't get it," Hazel says, just to change the subject. "What is this Avatar?"

"You must be an old soul," Leo says with a kind of knowing air about him, and Hazel recoils at the words. "But don't worry, young grasshopper. I will teach you all you need to know."

"Grasshopper?" Hazel asks, leaning away from him slightly, because Leo looks a tad crazy.

"Don't get him started," Jason pleads, though his eyes are twinkling. "He'll never stop."

Frank looks somewhere between anxiety and laughter. "Weren't we supposed to come up with a plan?"

Grover stops under a tree and places a hand on its trunk. "Okay, here's a plan. I think Tyson and Ella should come with me."

Jason considers this. "That's viable. You guys can keep each other safe. And you can update Annabeth and Percy, too."

"Percy?" Hazel says suddenly, stepping forward. The name strikes a random chord in her memory, and it takes some searching to remember that it had been Nico who had said it - and then he'd scowled, as though regretting saying anything at all. He'd only used it once, when Hazel has asked him why he was so keen on getting to the Underworld. Nico had said, "Percy won't follow me there."

"Yeah," Leo replies, confused. "Didn't we mention that was the name of your minor god?" He snorts again, and Frank goes red around the ears.

"Oh," says Hazel in a small voice.

"You know him?" Jason squints at her.

"No," she says quickly and unconvincingly. Frank glances quickly at her – she hadn't mentioned this particular detail to him – and Jason's eyes narrow. "Just…the name sounded familiar, that's all."

Leo's about to reply when he notices something sparkling at Hazel's feet. "Um. What's that?" He points.

Hazel's eyes go wide and she snatches the thing up, but not before Leo manages to identify it. He squeaks.

"Is that a diamond?" he demands.

Hazel pockets it. "Um," she said uncertainly, feeling awkward. She'd focused all her attentions on not giving anything about herself away, on not slipping into a flashback, that she'd forgotten that with her feet on soil rather than the tarmac, precious gemstones would pop up around her like flowers.

"Oh my god," Jason says with dawning recognition. "Pluto's sphere of control isn't just the dead, it's also wealth – Hazel, is that why you can control metals?"

Hazel hangs her head, and her frizzy hair bounces. She pushes several strands out of her face, trying to draw some strength from Frank's encouraging expression. "Yes. I-I…it's easy for me to manipulate them," she admits. "When I don't concentrate hard enough, sometimes they just show up around me like this." She sighs, dejected, as a green gem – a damn emerald – grows from the ground by her shoe.

"Can we sell them?" Leo asks at once. "If we got our hands on mortal money, we'd never have to steal again!"

She has to give it to Leo: the thought is tempting, but Hazel is reminded of her mother selling her gemstones to keep them afloat, and the hardships that had followed.

Besides, ever since she'd been raised from the dead, the gemstones have a weird, almost sinister quality to them – they don't feel anything like they used to. They don't listen to her, and it takes far too much energy to keep them from breaking through the soil. Hazel would be terrified of, once again, accidentally raising the golden coffin she'd died trying to bury – only, according to Frank, who had stayed at some kind of secret Roman camp for a time, Hazel's efforts had only delayed Kronos' rising, not stopped it altogether.

Grover and Jason, who are looking expectantly at Hazel, slump in disappointment when she shakes her head frantically. "I'd rather not," she says. "Ever since, uh, a couple of years ago, they feel…off, somehow. I don't think it's a good idea."

"What happened a couple of years ago?" Leo asks curiously, but Frank interrupts him swiftly, stepping closer to Hazel, and she gazes up at him, thankful beyond belief.

"So, if Grover is taking…Tyson and Ella," he inclines his head at the two of them. "What about the rest of us?"

"With me and Hazel around, we won't be able to get anything done," Jason groans. "We'll be attacked by monsters every two feet."

Leo appears to be off on his own tangent.

"Hazel," he says slowly, "would you be able to summon…say, Celestial Bronze? Or Imperial Gold? With your powers?"

Hazel nods uncertainly, patting her sword. "I summoned myself this. But like I said-"

"Pure metal?" Leo cuts in.

She nods. "I can do it."

Leo turns to Jason. "I need her," he says in a tone so, well, frank, that it makes her cheeks heat.

Frank steps forward. "Look-"

"Gods, not like that, man, chill," Leo says quickly, though his face goes pink, too. "It's just – I need metal. For a thing we have going on at camp." He gives Grover and Jason a significant look. "Remember?"

"Oh, shit," Jason says. "Yeah."

"But that would be half of it, I still need to find the Dragon," Leo says, biting his lip and thinking hard. "Hazel, do you feel anything close by?"

"It doesn't matter," Hazel says, blinking confusedly. "It might take me some time, but I can bring you whatever."

"How much of it?" Leo spreads his arms wide in an action more amateur than he'd like, but he can't really speak in term of diameter and kilograms, can he? "This much?"

She looks at him but she's crazy, but nods slowly. "Yeah," she says, mimicking him. "That much." She shoots Frank an odd look. "Might be a little useless after that, though – summoning things that dense drains me."

"Okay, and then what?" Jason says.

"We'll take it to camp," Leo decides, beginning to pace. "We need to make sure we get the materials to Jake and Beckendorf as soon as possible. I'll stick around for a while, too – and maybe after we get some work done, I'll set out again to find the Dragon." It sucks to admit. Leo's been dreaming of that damn Dragon for months, now, but he knows assembling the Archimedes sphere is vital.

Hazel raises her hand. "When you say Dragon, do you mean…it is bronze, by any chance?"

"Yeah." Leo stares at her so hard she feels herself going red. "You've seen it?"

"It chased me," Hazel shrugs. "When I was travelling with – a friend. I assumed it sensed us. Or perhaps just me. I mean, I could feel all that metal from miles away."

"Could you still do it?" Leo asks fervently. "Could you sense it?"

"Not from here," she says apologetically.

"But if we go looking?"

She casts a look Frank's way. "I suppose."

"Okay, so Grover and gang leave now," Jason summarizes, "Hazel gets us the metal we need. We go back to Nine, Leo gets started on the spheres, and then we can set off again to find the Dragon."

"Yep," Leo says.

"Sounds fine," Grover shrugs.

"Do we get a say?" Frank asks.

"Well, your cooperation would really help," Grover says brightly. Hazel remembers how he'd controlled the plants earlier and stifles a groan when she sees that they're knee-deep in grass and surrounded by trees.

"We'll go with you," she says, before Frank can say anything.

Leo perks up. "So you'll summon the metals?"

Hazel closes her eyes and searches the earth, feeling around for the pull of enchanted metal. She opens her eyes when she gets a reading strong enough and nods.

"Yeah," she says. "But not here. I'll show you where we have to go."

/

Percy hears Grover's voice in his head, which is how he knows he's still knocked out.

Are you asleep? Grover asks incredulously. It can't even be nine P.M your time.

The empathy link is still new, and still tingles from being open. It feels rather like having a passage into Grover's head – Percy can't see through his eyes, but it's like hovering around his general vicinity. Percy can hear talking in the background, and the unmistakeable sound of Leo's cackle.

I got hit in the head by a flailing traitor, Percy explains. It's the last thing he remembers.

A flailing what?

Traitor. Annabeth and I were on our way back from a supply run and we ran into some rogue demigods. I'm knocked out. I hope Annabeth took care of that guy.

Percy, this is bad.

Yeah, no shit! Percy despairs. I have no idea what's happened! I could wake up in Kronos' evil lair and die!

It's bad because they ran into you so close to Nine! Grover yells into his skull, and Percy's head begins to throb again.

Grover, please, my head hurts, Percy complains. I need sleep. How do you close this link again?

Okay, fine, Grover says. You'll update me later, when you're awake?

Yeah, sure, Percy grumbles. Did you have something to say?

Yeah. We're getting the Gold, Grover says. Or the Bronze. Either way, we're getting the pure metals Leo needs for the Archimedes spheres.

That's good.

We struck gold – literally – with this girl, Grover says gratefully. Anyway, the new plan is that Leo, Frank, Hazel, and Jason are gonna come back to Nine with the metals. I'm taking Tyson and Ella with me to find Pan.

You sure about that? Percy asks, remembering just how uncomfortable Grover had been during their last encounter with the cyclops.

I think so, Grover admits hesitantly. Tyson will be good to help me blend in.

Fair enough. Keep me posted?

You, too. Hope your head's okay.

Thanks, Percy says, and then he wakes up.

To his great relief, the walls of the room he's in are ones he recognizes – he's back in the infirmary at Bunker Nine, and there's a thin piece of fabric wrapped around where he'd hit his head. The fabric of his t-shirt is dyed red near the neckline, in the shape of an oval no wider or longer than his thumb finger. He reaches across with his right arm and pokes the bloodstain, wincing lightly at the ache in his shoulder at the movement, but his finger comes away dry.

He's been the one to opt against wearing armour, thinking it cumbersome for just a supply run. He hadn't expected a physical confrontation, but now he wishes he'd been more cautious.

He sits up, groaning when his head protests, and glances around him. Chris or whatever, the mad demigod they'd found, is passed out two beds away, and there are chains wound around his arms and legs, typing him to the metal bedframe. It's kind of a sad sight, but Percy's seen the dude's flailing limbs up close and personal. Restraining him is a good idea.

There's no sign of the other demigod, though. Ethan. He frowns.

It's dinner hours, so when Percy emerges into the Bunker, there aren't many people around. Just Travis, who claps him on the shoulder and says "Welcome back to the world of the living," and Beckendorf, who grins and waves him over.

"Where's Annabeth?" Percy asks when he's close enough. Beckendorf is settled on a comfortable-looking cushion, fiddling with a large shield that Silena occasionally uses as a personal mirror. "Was she knocked out, too?"

"She said she needed time to think," Beckendorf says, nodding towards a side-tunnel. "She brought you two back all by herself, gave us all a fright." He purses his lips. "You weren't around back then, but…the other demigod? That's Chris Rodriguez. He's an old friend to Clarisse. Disappeared during the War. We all assumed he died."

"Oh no." Percy feels a chill run through him. "But he's defected?"

"Looks like it," Beckendorf sighs. "Silena's in a state, too. She's Clarisse's closest friend, now – had to bring her back after Chris left. Now…I don't know what we're gonna do with him."

"Are…" Percy gulps. "Are you – we – going to kill him?"

"Dunno," Beckendorf says lowly. "It's Annabeth's call, in the end. Honestly, killing him would be safest. He woke up in hysterics – there's no getting any information outta him. I doubt even Clovis could manage it. But he's one of our own – or at least he used to be." He shrugs. "I don't envy Annabeth right now. It's a tough decision."

Percy glances at the tunnel Beckendorf had pointed out. "I think I'm gonna go find her."

Beckendorf nods. "I think you should."

Percy finds that his feet lead him upto the mountaintops without him even fully conscious of where he's going. It registers, too late, that it's dark outside, and Percy isn't blessed with pyrokinesis like Leo. He stumbles more than once, which isn't good for his aching head, before finally feeling his way upto the top of the passage.

Luckily enough, it's a calm, windless night, and Annabeth's only a few long paces away from the entrance, sketching on a scrap parchment, body angled slightly towards the lamp she's got at her side. The flickering of the flame turns her skin to something cool and bronze and maybe it's because of the low light, but her eyes have deep shadows underneath them, and there's a hard edge to her jaw that indicated that she's clenched it. Percy traces the outline of her profile with his eyes, going over the contours of her body, the worn paper in her lap, the curl of her fingers around the pencil. It's one from he set he stole for her. He smiles.

When he looks to her face again, she's looking at him silently, her other hand on the stone in a silent invitation that Percy takes at once, making his way over to her and settling next to her, making sure not to block the light.

Annabeth sets aside her pencil and cards her fingers through her hair. Percy spreads his legs and stifles a yawn.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, looking as though she's supressing a smile. "You went down pretty hard back there."

"I have a headache," says Percy miserably.

"We had Nyssa check you out," Annabeth proclaims. "She said no brain damage." She coughs pointedly. "Not that we'd be able to tell."

"Don't you know it's rude to insult the weak and injured?" Percy demands, as Annabeth snorts.

She sighs, stretching her arms above her head and tilting her head backward to gaze at the clouds.

"I didn't kill Ethan," Annabeth says, exhaling long and deep. "I tried."

Percy has to stop himself from asking Did you really want to kill him? Because it's something of a sore subject. Percy kills monsters because he has to – not because he wants to, necessarily. Meeting Tyson and Ella had put a lot of things in perspective for him – that monsters were just following orders, that not all of them were bad. During the times of the War, Percy, though still new to feeling part of something larger than himself, Bianca, and Nico, had found it hard to digest that some demigods were fighting alongside the Titans. For someone like Annabeth, who's been part of a community of half-bloods since she was a kid, the thought of hurting, let alone killing, another demigod must be near-unthinkable.

It's not that he thinks less of her because of it. He understands her predicament exactly and respects her even more for knowing how to hold back.

"You had to haul my sorry ass back here," Percy says. "And Chris's, too. It's not your fault. Nobody will think any less of you for it."

"Yeah, but he knows he's close to the Bunker now," Annabeth says, frustrated. "I've sent for a couple of Hecate demigods to strengthen the borders – add a couple of layers of magic. I wanted to see if it was possible to create some kind of omnidirectional influence that could redirect-" She notices the look on Percy's face and takes pity on him. "Basically, if anyone who isn't permitted tries to come close, the magic will lead them further away. It's like a mental nudge, kind of – their mind will lead them elsewhere, the spell kind of pushes them away in a different direction."

"That's about all we can do right now," Percy agrees. "But that's not all that's bothering you, is it."

Annabeth fishes a necklace from her pocket, the scythe charm dangling from the end. "There's this, too. I feel like it must be some kind of communication device, but it isn't responding to me." She places it back, face disturbed. "The spy…because I don't think I can deny their existence for any longer…they must have one, too."

"We can't just frisk every demigod until we find a scythe charm."

"I know." She squeezes her eyes shut like she's fighting off a headache. "But we'll keep any eye out of anything suspicious. Just us for now, and maybe the others when they're back. It's not like I don't trust everyone here…" She trails off. "I hate this."

"It's got to be someone who was at the meeting the other day," Percy reasons, troubled. "That's…worrisome."

"That's the worst part," Annabeth says, gazing at him sadly. "Those demigods are veterans, the ones who survived the War despite everything. I've trusted them for years, Percy. If the spy really is one of them, they've been privy to information only available to the inner circle, which is so dangerous – but also, Ethan said Chris had lost his mind wandering the Labyrinth, meaning he didn't have the password, meaning the spy didn't have it either?" She shakes her head in jerky movements as though trying to clear it of an annoying noise. "That makes no sense."

"Maybe Ethan lied," Percy suggests.

She huffs. "I doubt it – we'd outnumbered him, after all. And – " She laughs bitterly. "There's the fact that he's probably out for my blood now – I caught him off-guard this time and wounded him, but before he ran, he said something about getting revenge." She twirls the pencil, winds it through her fingers absentmindedly. "I think he's a son of Nemesis."

"The goddess of revenge?" Percy recalls his lessons with Lupa with some difficulty. "Is…she still around?"

Annabeth snorts. "I dunno. I assumed so, but now…"

"You think the minor gods are fighting for Kronos?" Percy scratches his knee for want of something to do.

"I do," Annabeth says, grim. Her mouth is pressed into a straight line. "It would explain a lot. A lot of the demigods that defected were unclaimed, you know? If they found out their parents were fighting for the Titans, with the promise of a better future?" She shakes her head forlornly. "It's no wonder."

Percy notes silently that Annabeth's resolutely not mentioning the possibility that the enemy demigods were recruited by an insider, possibly Luke – but he decides to save that for another conversation, even though he does think it's a truth she needs to face sooner rather than later. Annabeth's clearly got an enormous soft spot for Luke, and she needs to come to terms with the fact that his ideals have changed, especially if she's intent on finding him.

"Unclaimed?" he asks, even though his mind is still fixated on Annabeth and Luke.

She hums, lost in thought. "How do I put it…well, when the gods were still around, new demigods who didn't know their parentage would get some kind of sign from their godly parent. I've heard it used to be that god's symbol showing up above them in a flash of light – very public, very flashy, very dramatic, in typical godly fashion. By the time I joined Bunker Six, I'd gotten dreams about my mother, and my appearance matched the rest of Athena's other kids." She pauses, her words skidding to a stop. "It's easy enough for demigods like you – your powers make it obvious. For others it's harder. They may not have any noticeable powers, and not everyone is lucky enough to get a personal memo from the gods."

"That's not fair," Percy murmurs. He can kind of relate – it's not like Poseidon's ever tried to communicate with him, but he differs from the unclaimed largely because he's grounded firmly in his sense of self. Percy's mom has always told him he was born with salt water in his veins, and he's known how to swim just as long as he's been walking. It's been a long time since he's been to the ocean, but he remembers the cabin at Montauk he and his mom used to spend weekends at, and he feels a strong connect to the sea, even so far away, that he can't truly explain.

Poseidon might not be around to claim him as his son with a grand gesture like a trident swirling about his head, but Percy feels claimed – feels it in the ease with which he can bend water to his will, feels it in the way the water heals his bruises, bringing him back to something as good as new.

Percy's always been a son of Poseidon, even when he'd been too young to know it. The ocean is a part of him just as much as Sally's blood is.

He tries to imagine what it must be like to not have that feeling. To not be sure of who you are and how exactly you fit into this crazy made-up world, to watch everyone else get claimed and discover facets of themselves they hadn't been able to unlock before.

Very quickly Percy understands the bitterness those demigods must have felt towards everyone – the world, their fellow demigods, and the gods themselves most of all. Why wouldn't they join a power who promised them recognition, who promised to bring their own parents – the minor gods – to the forefront?

"Do you think they'd feel the same if there were separate Bunkers for them, too?" he questions, already half-sure of the answer. "Maybe it would've helped if there were a place they really belonged. A place to call theirs. It can't have been nice to have just been grouped with everyone else."

"I know." Annabeth presses her palms into her cheeks. "I know, it's something I've always wanted to do – expand the Bunker system, build a couple of smaller ones for the minor gods. I mean, obviously I wasn't around when the Bunkers were first set up, but it's pretty obvious that they made Bunkers only for the main twelve Olympians, the ones who have thrones." She curses. "I should've pushed harder. I just- I just thought, after the War…"

"Annabeth," Percy says, placing a hand on her shoulder gingerly, "this isn't your fault."

"It might not be solely my fault, but I sat by and did nothing, which doesn't make me completely innocent, either." Annabeth's eyes are dark and unforgiving, but at least she isn't shrugging his hand away. "Gods, Percy. I didn't even know they were feeling this way." She winces. "And I can't really blame them. Can you?"

"I can't," he says honestly. "I mean, that asshole Ethan did kick me in the head and he pisses me off, but he's just fighting for his parents, just like we are."

She sniffs, angling her chin upwards to stare at the cloudy night sky. "Exactly. I can't fault him for his choices when life's just dealt him a bad hand the same way I got lucky enough to be claimed. It just sucks that we'll have to fight one day. I hate that I hurt him, even though he would've hurt me otherwise."

"I hope things change if we win the War this time," Percy finds himself voicing. "I-I don't want other demigods to feel that way."

"Yeah," she agrees. "Gods…it's just – Chris, y'know? I knew him, or I thought I did. He was a son of Hermes – we figured it out mostly because of his physical traits, and his abilities matched, too. But I doubt he got a confirmation from the god. He must've been so angry at Hermes, at us – and he was right under all our noses, too." She gazes hopelessly at the dark shapes of the trees, letting out a resigned huff, and Percy wonders if she's thinking of Luke. "Clarisse trusted him with her life. She was a mess for a long time after he left – she still won't accept that he left out of his own accord, she'll argue that he was kidnapped."

"What are you gonna do?" Percy asks her.

"Gods, I don't know. I don't want to kill him, that's for sure. I mean, you've seen Clarisse," she whispers. "She's a hardass. When she first joined up, a year or so after I did…she came in with Chris. They were neighbours, their families were having a dinner party before the monsters attacked – they'd been together ever since." She takes a breath. "Clarisse was claimed in grand fashion – glowing red aura around her, the works. Chris must've expected something similar."

"Only he didn't get it."

She shakes her head. "I can only imagine how angry he felt if he chose to leave Clarisse – if there's one thing I know about him, it's that he loved her. He cared about her more than anything." She crosses her arms. "I can't kill him."

"You're going to take him to Clarisse?" Percy's suddenly very glad he isn't stationed in Bunker Five.

"Yeah, and I'll send Piper and Clovis to try and get some information out of him. Maybe even some of the Healers from Apollo, and maybe Castor and Pollux could help, too – their dad does specialize in madness." Annabeth wrinkles her nose. "What do you think?"

"I think it's the best option you have," Percy agrees. "How do you feel about it?"

There's a pause as Annabeth weighs his words. "I think I'm okay with it."

"Then you can go downstairs and tell everyone the verdict without feeling any guilt about it," Percy says. "Everyone trusts you to take the best decision."

She smiles a little. "I think I'll save that for tomorrow. I need to get some sleep." She grins at him widely, sudden and disarming. "I had to drag your fat ass home, I'm tired."

"This is fatshaming and I will not stand for it." Percy accepts the hand she offers him, standing up and rubbing the gravel off of his jeans.

They make their way down the tunnel in silence. Annabeth stops outside the bathroom and shoves her stationery and the now-extinguished lamp into his hands.

"You can go eat dinner," she says. "I told Jake to save some for me, but you can have it. I just want to go get some rest."

"Sure," he says. "You sure?"

"Sure." She studies him for aa long moment, during which Percy colors and tries not to look into her eyes.

"Thanks," she says. "I needed that talk today. Even if you didn't really tell me anything I didn't already know."

"Hey," he protests, jabbing at her with the pencil.

"I said you helped!"

"Yeah, yeah." Percy sticks his tongue out at her. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to finish off your dinner, and I'm not even gonna feel bad about it."

Annabeth laughs, loud and clear, and something in his chest stutters embarrassingly.

"Good night," he says huffily.

"Also, Percy," she calls out, just as Percy's turned away – he spins around to face her again and finds her standing in the same position, looking oddly awkward.

"You said before, that my decision was the best I could've made." She pauses. "It's we."

"We what?" Percy asks, flummoxed.

"It's the best decision we could've made," she says, exasperated and rolling her eyes, though the pink highlighting her cheekbones suggests she cares more than she's letting on. "You're one of us now, Percy, like it or not. We're a team now."

"A team," Percy says numbly, like he's never heard the words before.

"You are an idiot," Annabeth grumbles, flouncing into the girls' bathroom without another word. Coming from her, it's practically a declaration of undying love. Percy smirks.

Later, after he's polished off a fairly satisfying meal of stew and fruit salad with a side of the chocolates he'd stolen that day, Percy lies in his bed with his arms crossed behind his head and thinks about it.

Another conversation rises to the top of his mind –

"So I guess I get why you didn't accept me, Annabeth."

"It'll happen," she'd assured him, smiling. Then she'd added, "It's happening."

He turns around to gaze at her. He can't see much of her face, given that her back is to him and that she sleeps with her blanket pulled right up to her nose, but he finds the mess of blonde hair easily enough, even in the dim lights of the braziers nearby, and thinks that maybe she's finally learned to accept him, maybe even trust him.

He smiles. It's finally happened.

/

Leo stops stealing phones after an hour or so. He tells Jason, who seems to be holding on to the last thread of sanity he has left, that he's doing it because he's a responsible demigod who knows that demigods are tracked if they use modern technology, but really it's because he thinks he's finally all caught up on the memes of the month.

Having joined the Bunkers when he was fourteen, Leo hadn't taken the sudden loss of technology too well. As a child, he'd been notorious for taking apart his mother's phone and putting it back together again – he'd done it to laptops, too, and TVs, and when he'd turned nine, his mother had finally let him assist her in the car shop. He hadn't adjusted well to the demigods at first – he tired quickly of making weapons, and soon began to devise his own shit: tiny cameras that could would alert the wearer of danger, drones that could scope through the forests. He'd raided mortal electronic stores to complete these projects, not fully knowing the consequences. Every single one of his hybrid inventions had worked, of course – but they'd attracted monsters in tens and twenties, as though they were being drawn to the spot.

Beckendorf had explained why. Demigods and mortal devices never mixed too well, he'd said. Without Celestial Bronze to block the signals, monsters could track them easily, and so Beckendorf had cautioned Leo against using smartphones. But Leo hadn't been able to help himself. If he couldn't make use of mortal works, he could at least borrow them for a minute or two – to keep up with the latest trends. Leo doesn't want to flirt with a cute mortal girl and have her tell him he's so last year.

Needless to say, Leo knows what's up. He knows all the spoilers from all the shows, the tunes to all the popular songs, the tea on every Hollywood star out there, the memes of the month, and he's waiting for Avengers: Endgame just like the rest of the world.

He's done it so often on supply runs that Jason doesn't even bat an eyelid anymore, but apparently, in the presence of the two newbies, fun-Jason has flown right out of the window.

"If we're tracked here, it's your fault," Jason grouses as they scale the mountain.

"Have I ever led us astray?" Leo pants, leaning against a tree. "Seriously, can we stop now? Nothing's followed us here, and I'm sure that when Frank comes back down, he'll agree with me."

A few minutes later, Frank swoops down in front of Grover and turns back into a human.

"That will never get old," Leo says admiringly. "It's like you're an Animagus with every single animal form ever, that's so cool."

"What's an Animagus?" Hazel asks, turning around to stare at him.

"Never mind," Leo sighs.

Frank clears his throat. "I spotted a dracaena a couple miles away." He jabs his thumb in the direction. "I took it out. I think we're safe now."

"Told you we'd be fine," Leo mutters to Jason, who glares. Frank looks distressed to have (accidentally) been on Leo's side.

"Hazel, is here okay?" Grover asks, waving for Tyson to come back. Ella is perched in a tree above them, ruffling her feathers.

"Please let us be close enough," Leo moans. Then, struck with a brainwave, he straightens. "Jason."

"No," says Jason at once.

"I didn't even say anything yet," Leo whines.

"You didn't have to." Jason does the I'm-watching-you gesture. "I can see what you want in your evil little eyes. You want me to piggyback you up the mountain."

"Impressive work, detective," Leo allows. "Does this mean you'll piggy me on your back?"

"If you really think I'm lugging your fat ass up the mountain, you're sorely mistaken," Jason says. Leo squawks and looks at his butt at once, but it is still far from a Kardashian's.

"Take that back," he orders, but Jason only smirks.

And really, Jason should know better. It isn't like this is the first time Leo is asking him for something nonsensical. They have known each other long enough now and Jason should really be expecting Leo to drag him into some kind of ridiculous scheme or the other – which usually ends up Jason giving in to the inevitable and Leo fucking up on a colossal scale. It's a prerequisite for being his friend.

"Here is fine," Hazel says, thank the gods. She frowns, kneeling and placing her palm on the ground like she's a human metal detector, which Leo figures she actually is. She gazes around at them all nervously. "This might take a while. You might want to think of other details – like how we're going to get to this base of yours."

"She has a point," Jason agrees, as Hazel places her other hand on the ground and closes her eyes. "I can summon Tempest – Frank, I don't suppose you can transform into a pegasus?"

"I've done a giant eagle before," Frank says, with the most confidence Leo's seen from him thus far. "I can carry Hazel that way."

So cool, Leo thinks, just as Frank turns his gaze on him.

"What about you?" he says sarcastically. "Can you use your powers to fly, too, Fire Lord Ozai style?"

"You've watched Avatar!" Leo says excitedly, expecting some kind of acknowledgement for it – this must make them bros, right?

Frank only raises an eyebrow.

Leo deflates. "Well, no. I've been trying the Human Torch gig for years. Doesn't work."

"Maybe you could set yourself on fire and jump from the mountaintop," says Frank hopefully.

"Don't tempt me," Leo returns at once, thinking that he really will do it if it'll make Frank uncomfortable.

Leo doesn't know what the guy has against him. Sure, he'd acted, uh, fairly casually with his girlfriend, but he hadn't meant to hit on her, and he's been keeping his distance ever since. Even though Hazel is kind of stunning and it has been hard. Better yet, she seems curious about him – her eyes go all distant with wistfulness whenever she looks his way - which Leo has decided to take as a win. It's better than outright, disgust, after all.

Other than that, he hasn't stepped a toe out of line. So how has Frank developed such a harsh grudge against him in the few hours since meeting him?

Jason shoots Leo a look like I get that you didn't start it, but stand down, and Leo glares at him. He could take Frank in a fight, he thinks bitterly. He could fry the hair right off his head.

That mental image calms him immensely for the time being, so he decides to be the bigger person (figuratively) and not push the fight. He picks a fairly comfortable-looking tree and settles against it, yawning.

He stares at his hands, ashamed at how quickly he'd gotten riled up at Frank's petty comments. Leo prides himself on being clever, on often using his mind over his body – even though the years have changed him. He'd always been on the scrawny side, but now his arms, though thin, are lined with muscle. His hands are like his mom's – mechanic's hands, she would tell him, rubbing all the oil from her hands onto his just to make him giggle. Leo has the hands of a worker, with broad palms and long fingers. There are calluses on them from all kinds of labor.

He used to hate his hands – they aren't beautiful by any means, they aren't the kind of hands you'd want to hold, but he'd been terrified of the destruction he could cause. But he's made peace with himself, and he isn't going to let stupid ol' Frank ruin that for him.

After that nice little self-introspection session, Leo imagines Frank turning into a bug and Leo squishing him, which lifts his spirits far better than the deep thinking had. He grins.

"What're you smirking at?" Frank asks suspiciously.

"My own thoughts." Leo says, because honesty is the best policy, being completely honest.

"You had a thought!" Jason interjects, hand over his heart, because he is pure evil. "And I was here for it! Leo, I'm so proud-"

Leo flips him off, grinning.

He stretches, taking in his surroundings properly for the first time. It's a beautiful forest, he has to admit, with trees painted fresh green in the pleasant spring day. Leo imagines the Dragon from his dreams skulking around here, just waiting for Leo to find it, but there's no way he's that lucky. Percy – who had been left behind to nurse his wounded pride at not been allowed to accompany them – had mentioned, in the midst of his complaining, that he'd run into a big Bronze dragon shortly after leaving New Rome.

"Colorado," he'd said with conviction. "I'm telling you, your Dragon is in Colorado."

Leo yawns and wonders if he can convince the others to take a detour.

He pulls a watch from his backpack. It's a simple digital one that doesn't tell time anymore, but Leo's obsessed with the idea of it turning into a shield if you press its front. So far, he's failing at it miserably.

He'd gotten Lou Ellen to enchant the watch's now-emptied cavity to be able to hold a shield, but beyond that, Leo's stumped. He grabs the smallest screwdriver he has and tinkers with the side buttons a little, mostly because he's bored and has nothing else to do.

Above them, Ella's fallen asleep with her head tucked underneath her wing. Jason is conversing silently with Grover, while Frank's standing vigil behind Hazel, gazing down at her intently.

Tyson lumbers up to Leo and gazes at the watch curiously. "Are you…building?"

"Trying," Leo says grumpily. He gazes up into Tyson's lone brown eye and figures that if Percy trusts him, Leo ought to give him a chance.

"Want to help?" he asks, and Tyson nods so vigorously his entire body shakes with the force of it.

Leo shifts a little, and the cyclops plops down beside him, taking the proffered watch with a touch so gentle and inquisitive it surprises him. He is suddenly hit with the realization that as a cyclops, Tyson's got the genes of a mechanic, too, just like Leo.

"I'm trying to make it so that a shield comes out of it if you hit it on the front," Leo explains, slapping his palm over the watch's display. He pries off the top of it and shows Tyson the Celestial Bronze he's layered inside. "So it should kind of – spiral outward. But it's not working."

Tyson examines it with the eye of a mechanic, and Leo feels the familiar thrill of finding one of his people – he'd felt the same way when he'd seen his half-siblings working on weaponry in Bunker Nine for the first time.

"You must activate it from here?" Tyson indicates the detached display. "If you touched here…" With an enormous nail, he pokes at one of the side buttons. "If you use this as the trigger, you could use a spring." He pauses as if searching for the right word. "To push the Bronze inside."

"Like a domino effect," Leo enthuses. "Each piece could push the other outwards and upwards – it could definitely work."

Tyson nods, grinning, and Leo punches him in the arm. "Where's Percy been hiding you all this time? You're a genius, dude. We need you at Nine."

Tyson blushes. "Tyson was protecting Ella."

"Well, you both should come to Nine after you finish helping Grover." Leo nods at him. "We'll need you for weapons development. Dude, if everyone had these…" He trails off. "I really owe you one, man."

"I am happy," Tyson says in a voice so genuinely joyful and pleased to have helped out that Leo laughs.

He's about to suggest making a prototype together, but right about then the ground rumbles. Hazel gasps, her eyes flying open, and shoots Frank a grim look.

"Catch me," she tells Frank, getting to her feet. To Leo she says, "Get ready."

She bends over, grabbing what looks to be a handful of earth and pulling – she pulls and pulls and pulls, yanking a large yellowish boulder out of the ground like a magician pulling lengths of handkerchiefs from their sleeves.

"Celestial Bronze ore," Leo says in dumbfounded amazement, as Hazel lifts it higher and higher. There are tiny beads of sweat dotted across her forehead.

"That's – about – it," she wheezes as the drags the last of it out. She heaves a mighty sigh and falls into Frank's arms.

Grover and Jason move forward, looking enamored. Their hands are raised as though about to touch it, but Leo calls out, "No! Stop!"

They listen, though they look a little disappointed. "Why?"

"It needs to be as pure as we can manage," Leo says in what he hopes is an intelligent tone of voice. "That means as little contact with humans as possible. Hazel is one. I guess you and I-" he nods to Jason – "will have to carry it back to Nine. Beckendorf and I will work on it then." He nods, pleased. "Four people. That's it. Nobody else touches it."

Grover puts both hands in his pockets. "Good catch."

Jason stares at the boulder with apprehension – it's just shorter than him height and just as wide. "You sure we can carry this?"

"It's Celestial Bronze, so it should be light. Ish." Leo brushes a beetle from his sleeve. "At any rate, it probably isn't as heavy as it looks."

"Great," Jason says dryly.

"Is Hazel in any state to travel?" Grover asks, gazing worriedly at her. Leo realizes, too late, that he hadn't even acknowledged her, and yells out a thanks at once. She looks tired, the way Jason does when he uses too much of his powers at once, but she offers a feeble thumbs-up.

"Peachy," she says.

"I'll make sure she's okay," Frank assures, with a triumphant little smirk directed Leo's way.

"I'll summon Tempest, then," Jason says, closing his eyes and concentrating.

"Grover, I was also thinking," Leo says quickly, before they leave and he forgets, "we shouldn't tell anyone that Hazel's a daughter of Pluto. If the Bunker's got a mole-"

"A mole?" Frank exclaims, gazing at Leo up and down like he's the traitor, which is honestly just unfair.

"They'll fill you in on the way," Grover says to Frank, before nodding at Leo. "That's our best bet. I'll tell Percy and Annabeth to expect you guys soon."

"We could say she's a daughter of Demeter or something," Leo adds.

"Ceres," says Frank, Jason, and Hazel at once, and they all shoot each other amused looks.

Leo rolls his eyes. "Romans."

Jason walks around the Bronze in a circle as a clap of thunder sounds from above; Tempest gallops out of the clouds and speeds towards Jason, nuzzling against him and creating a storm of sparks. Jason laughs – electricity has never affected him – and begins to coo endearments.

"Behold the mighty son of Zeus," Leo teases.

"What is that?" Hazel asks dazedly, staring at the horse with an expression of pure, wretched longing written plainly across her face.

"Storm spirit." He catches the look on her face. "…It's a long story."

"Gods you guys are weird," says Frank with feeling. He sets Hazel down gently on the ground and transforms into a giant eagle, lowering himself so Hazel can climb on without too much effort.

"Yeah, we're the weird ones," Leo grunts. Eagle-Frank gives him a look that clearly means I will peck your eyeballs out.

While Jason plays with Tempest, Leo approaches Tyson and offers his hand, which Tyson bypasses entirely as he envelops Leo in a bone-crushing hug.

"I like you," he declares.

"I like you, too," Leo says, oddly touched. "I wish we could have made the watches together."

"Me, too," Tyson agrees. "Building is fun."

"I wish I had the right tools," he moans. "I don't have a screwdriver small enough to fix the spring-" He pauses, flabbergasted, as Tyson hands him an instrument of just the right size.

Leo blinks. Tyson beams.

"Where'd you get that?" Leo demands, already unscrewing the watch's tiny side-button from the inside. "This is perfect."

"From here!" Tyson pats what Leo had assumed to be some kind of weird cloth tied around his wrist, but turns out it's an old tool belt that looks like it's one touch from falling apart entirely.

It looks empty.

"Could you get me a hammer?" Leo tests out, and the words have only just left his mouth when Tyson pulls a standard hammer from the belt from what must be the smallest pouch attached to it.

"Oh my gods," says Leo hoarsely.

Tyson stares at the hammer forlornly. "I stole this from another cyclops. Big one. Mean one. Didn't use it to build anything." He frowns. "Belt was good when I was small. But now the hammer is too small for me." Suddenly, he smiles. "You are a builder!"

To Leo's utter astonishment, Tyson shakes the belt from his overlarge wrist and pushes it into Leo's lap. "You can use it! You are a builder, and you are the right size for the tools!"

Leo's too shaken to point out that the tools are the right size for him, not the other way round.

"Tyson, this is valuable," he stresses, as Grover, Jason, and Frank come to investigate. "It's a magical item – I can't just take it from you."

"No way, really?" Jason says, eyes wide.

"Magical items are rare," Leo tells Tyson, who seems to not be giving a single fuck. "And it may not even work for me-" his words falter as he digs into the belt and pulls out a handful of nails.

"Yay!" Tyson claps. "It works!"

"Tyson, are you sure," Leo says, although he's already fastening the belt around his waist. It hangs off him at just the perfect weight, enough for him to know it's there and not enough to hinder his movements. Leo pulls out another hammer, just to experiment. Then he pulls out a couple of nuts, some bolts, a variety of screwdrivers, a wrench, an electric circular saw, a roll of duct tape, a bottle of glue, and a vial of gasoline. He whoops, elated.

"Um, maybe you should stop," Grover says, as the pile at his feet grows larger.

"I have to test its limits," Leo argues, but he stops anyway because his arms are beginning to hurt. "I think it can give me about anything I ask for as long it can be found in a regular tool store." He shrugs. "It isn't giving me a stepladder, though. Or anything else big."

"Fair enough." Jason looks impressed. "It suits you, anyhow."

"Tyson, I don't know how to thank you," Leo says. "This is…perfect."

"You are a builder," Tyson says again, and Leo almost tears up, because the cyclops must be some kind of guardian angel sent by the gods to give Leo cool things. "You will use it."

"I will," Leo says. "I'll use it all the time."

He'd like to cry about it a little more, but behind him, Jason is struggling with the Bronze, so Leo goes to assist. Grover, clearly itching to help, gets some vines to steady it.

"Oh my gods I was wrong," Leo gasps. "This thing is bloody heavy."

Somehow they load themselves, with the help of Tyson and Grover, who take extra care to not even graze the Bronze, onto Tempest, who neighs angrily at the load. Leo sighs and rests the half he's holding onto his thigh.

"I guess this is it," Grover says amicably, giving Jason and Leo half-hugs. He hands Hazel a small vial of medicine, "To restore your strength," he says.

"See you, Grover," Jason says. He can't wave, because his arms are wrapped around the Bronze, but he jiggles his leg at the satyr. "good luck on your Quest."

"I'll keep in touch through Percy," Grover promises. "You guys stay safe."

He steps backwards as Frank extends his wings and screeches. Leo waves as best he can, grinning and winking at Tyson, who is waving both arms around like a windmill. He's creating quite the breeze.

"Let's go," Jason tells Tempest, who snorts a tiny lightning bolt. Next to them, Frank The Eagle pushes off the ground, Hazel clinging to his neck.

"Take care!" Grover calls.

"See you!" Leo yells back. He waves until his arm hurts and the Bronze slips a little on his thigh, before fixing his eyes ahead of him, grinning.

Jason doesn't even turn around; he probably can sense it. "You excited?"

"Hella," Leo laughs, "I'm telling you, Jason, it's only good things that are coming."

He's too excited to notice how Jason's smile slides away.

/

Annabeth feels sufficiently well-rested when she wakes up, which is rare for her.

She doesn't even remember if she'd had a dream during the night, which makes her hopeful that she might not have even had one at all. She savours her last few minutes in bed, pressing her face into her pillow and listening to the clang of metal hitting metal from the forges, before sighing deeply and swinging her legs to the ground.

Percy's bed is empty when Annabeth crosses it on the way to the bathrooms, but one quick scan of the Bunker reveals that he's helping a group of demigods out in the forges, cooling a barrel of water rapidly just before Nyssa immerses a glowing, white-hot dagger into the liquid, releasing a great deal of hissing noises and steam.

Annabeth quickly brushes her teeth and surveys herself in the makeshift mirror – really a polished rectangle of steel – that's leaned up against the rock wall. She looks gaunt and thin, and her hair could house a living creature, but the dark circles under her eyes seem to have eased slightly, so she counts it as a win.

She calls Percy over with a shout and a wave as she makes her way to the infirmary, where Travis, Silena, and Beckendorf join her. They gather around Chris's bedside – he is fast asleep, sedated heavily with a dose of the sleep potion they usually use when the nightmares get too bad, or when someone needs to be knocked out for their wounds to be treated. Asleep, he looks sane and peaceful, far from the writhing, crying boy they'd encountered in the woods.

She looks around to find her own expression of mingled sadness and pity reflected clear as day on the others' faces. Silena looks especially distressed – out of them all, she'd probably known him the best thanks to her friendship with Clarisse.

Clarisse. She's going to be broken.

"We can't kill him," Annabeth says heavily, leaning against the wall. "I know we probably should – he's definitely not one of us anymore –" she nods at the scythe charm they'd pried off his person the day before that now rests innocently on a stone ledge near his bed – "and he doesn't seem to be mentally stable. But I can't do that to Clarisse."

"I agree," Silena pipes up at once, and Annabeth is relieved to see Travis and Beckendorf nodding, too. Friend or enemy, the thought of killing another demigod makes her sick, even if they, like Ethan, have no problems with it themselves.

"Are we so sure that he's useless?" Beckendorf asks, scratching absentmindedly at an oil stain on his shirt. "Maybe there's a way to get some information out of him still.

"I was thinking that too," Annabeth agrees. "Piper could try her hand at charmspeak answers from him, and I was thinking we could get Castor and Pollux to try something, too."

"Do we call Clarisse here?" Travis asks. "I could go and get her."

"No, I don't want to keep her from managing Five, and if we keep Chris here, she'll be forced to split her time between here and there," Annabeth says. "I thought we could take him there instead."

Silence follows her words. Beckendorf frowns. "So you want one or two of us to escort him to Bunker Five –"

Annabeth nods her affirmative. "Travis, you'll have to go get Piper. Tell her to go to Five, and come back here when she's done. Which of your siblings are in Ten?"

"Alice," Travis answers.

"When you get to Ten, send Alice to Twelve. Tell Castor or Pollux that they're needed in Five." Annabeth crosses her arms. "Sound good?"

"Sounds fine, but who's going to escort Chris to Five?" Beckendorf looks at her nervously. "I don't want to risk any of the kids."

She bites her lip. "Nyssa?"

"She wouldn't mind, but she's doing good work here, and I don't want to slow it down," Beckendorf says.

Annabeth swears. "I'd go, but Grover told Percy that Leo's already on his way back, which means I should probably stay here." She glances at Beckendorf. "And you probably should, too."

Percy steps up, his hand raised. "I'll go."

She hesitates, suddenly overwhelmed by just the thought of Percy out of her sight, because, for some reason, it is unthinkable. "You don't know the way."

He shrugs. "Well, I won't be going alone, right? It'll be fine."

She nods slowly, trying to figure out a reason to refuse him and coming up empty. "Okay, so you and Silena-"

"Actually, Annabeth," the daughter of Aphrodite cuts in smoothly, stepping forward, "I think I should do this alone."

"What?" Annabeth responds, drawing back in surprise.

Silena raises a perfectly sculpted brow in her direction. "I know Clarisse best. I care about her more than anything – I should be the one to deliver Chris to her."

Beckendorf frowns, placing a hand at his girlfriend's elbow. "Yeah, babe, but Percy'd be along for your own safety. Chris isn't in his right mind. What if he tries to attack you on the way?"

"I can handle myself," Silena protests, drawing herself up to her full height and squaring her shoulders. "We'll give Chris another dose of the sleep medicine before we leave – I know the way to Five well. It'll take me an hour – two at the most. I'll be fine."

Percy frowns. "Silena, if this is about your friendship with Clarisse, I mean – I promise not to get in the way, or anything."

"Well, Clarisse might just kill you on sight if Annabeth isn't around," Silena smirks. "But – I dunno. What if Grover sends you some important information for Annabeth? You'll be much more useful here." At this point she stares straight at Annabeth with a slight smile, and Annabeth wants to melt into the floor, because Silena's always, always been able to know Annabeth's true intentions.

"This just feels like something I have to do, y'know?" She looks around at them. "You can trust me."

Annabeth gazes at Chris's sleeping face. "I don't know, Silena. It's not that we don't trust you. But Chris – he could wake up, decide you're an enemy – he could run away, or something. I just think you'd be better off with someone to help you out, should it come to that."

"Is this about yesterday?" Silena asks. "Because he just caught me off guard, that's all."

Chris had woken up when Silena had been trying to feed him the potion the day before and proceeded to throw a total fit. Annabeth, who had been reading in bed at the time, had run to Silena's aid at once to find Chris screaming his head off and trying to tear away his bonds. She'd been forced to knock him out with an expert swing of the book in her arms.

("What is that?" Silena had yelled hysterically. "The Bible?"

"No," Annabeth said very calmly, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.")

"Well…" Annabeth admits.

"Please, Annabeth," Silena beseeches, her eyes wide. She places both hands on Annabeth's shoulders, and somehow her the gentleness of her touch in combination with the open, pleading look on her face makes all the fight drain out of Annabeth.

"Okay," she relents, even though the other three look worried at the announcement – but they shouldn't even have a reason to fear. She grins at Silena, who smiles back at her confidently, and suddenly Annabeth can't remember the reason she'd doubted Silena at all. Silena's proven her loyalty to them over and over, and she can handle a sword just as well as the rest of them. Everything's going to be fine.

"You won't regret this!" Silena says elatedly, crushing Annabeth into a quick hug. She gives the rest of them hugs, too, and they all relax into her embrace – even Beckendorf, who had been wearing a mulish expression that suggested he was about to offer his services to his girlfriend.

Now, though, he only sighs into her shoulder and whispers a Be safe into her ear. Annabeth sags, relieved, because she really does need him there for when Leo returns. Silena nods and turns around in his arms.

"I'll leave at dusk," she says. "That's long enough for Chris to wake up so we can administer the potion again."

"Okay," Annabeth nods. "That means Travis will have to leave around two hours before you do, right?" Travis nods.

"Fine," she says. "I'll see you then – you guys should go get ready."

They file out of the room one by one – except for Percy, who falls into step beside her. Annabeth lets out a long sigh; Percy shoots her an amused look and then there's a warm hand on her back. Percy's hand, Percy's hand that is large and rough and resting between her shoulder blades.

Percy is saying something as he steers her out of the room, but Annabeth doesn't hear a goddamn word because she's too busy freaking the fuck out. The heat from his hand is bleeding through her shirt and seeping right into her spinal cord. She feels as though the bottom of her stomach has given out entirely; every muscle in her is tensed and he must be able to tell, because he rubs his thumb in a soothing circle.

It feels really nice.

"You handled that well," he is saying, and she tries to concentrate on the conversation like a functioning adult instead of focusing on how big Percy's palms feel when he splays his fingers over her back like that.

She massages her forehead. "I hope so."

"If you need me to go with Silena-"

"No, I think she was right about you being more useful here," Annabeth says, refusing to meet his eyes. "I mean, if Grover contacts you-"

"Yeah," Percy says smugly, and she doesn't need to look at him to know he's grinning.

She bumps his shoulder. He bumps it back. "What's the plan now?"

"I don't want to work today," Annabeth admits. "Wanna spar?"

His eyes light up. "Only if you're ready to lose."

/

"Woah, be still my heart," Annabeth laughs, as she opens the Bunker doors for them. "Leo, is that tool belt new?"

"Magical…item," Leo pants, heaving under the weight of the metal. Behind him, Jason's faring no better. He grits out, "Why are these doors so slow?"

They're off like a shot towards the workshop as soon as the gap in the door is wide enough, leaving Annabeth to greet Frank and Hazel and give them brief tour as they follow behind, Annabeth still laughing. Leo and Jason grunt their way past Beckendorf, who bursts into throaty laughter at the sight of them, and push the hunk of Bronze onto the biggest free slab of stone they can find.

"I just realized I could've levitated it," Hazel says, sounding guilty: she winces as Leo whirls on her, breathing hard.

"You what," he says.

"Sorry," she says.

Leo's back is hurting too much to forgive her, but Frank crosses his arms in a very bodyguard-like manner, so Leo grumbles out an, "It's okay."

Annabeth walks up behind them – stopping to give a quick hug to Jason, who lumbers away towards the beds - with Beckendorf in tow. His eyes are red and his hands look raw from what Leo bets is an entire day of metalwork. He feels a pang of guilt for not being around to help and places his hand on Beckendorf's (extremely large and muscly) shoulder. "Thanks for holding down the fort, man."

Beckendorf's laugh comes out as a tired chuckle. "Don't worry about it," he says. "I had a lot of help." He gestures to the sleeping figures around the workstations – Leo's siblings, who must've worked well into the night. "But you're back sooner than we expected." He nods at the Bronze. "This for the spheres?"

"We found these two on their way to deliver this to New Rome, but we convinced them to give it to us instead," Leo says as he gestures at the two Romans, repeating the lie they'd rehearsed on the way back. Leo doesn't like lying to Beckendorf, who is really a large teddy bear underneath all the muscle, but they'd all agreed that keeping Hazel's identity secret was far more important, especially if there really were traitors in the Bunkers. Behind Beckendorf, Annabeth gives an approving little nod.

"Hello," Beckendorf asks, now honed in on a startled Hazel.

"I'm Frank, son of Mars," Frank says, shaking Beckendorf's hand.

"Hazel, daughter of Ceres," Hazel says, waving shyly and smiling – really smiling, for the first time. Leo almost knocks over a candle in his shock.

Hazel's eyes shine as she gingerly shakes his hand, as though afraid he might pull her into a crushing embrace. Leo sees Beckendorf's eyes soften as he takes in just how small she is compared to him – he always gets a soft spot for the littler ones. Next to each other, he notices that they both have similar dark skin tones and look almost like siblings.

"Nice to meet you," Bekendorf says kindly. He nods at Leo again. "So, this pure?"

"She made the soil spit it up," Leo says vaguely, hoping he's not giving too much away. "The only people who've touched it are me, her, and Jase." He nods at Beckendorf. "And now you."

Beckendorf takes his cue to run his hands lightly over the ore. For someone who looks like he can break apart a building with his bare hands, Leo knows firsthand just how delicate his fingers can be. He whistles. "This is high quality. And you want just us two to take care of it?"

Leo nods. "I thought we'd keep it at a minimum to ensure the purity of the metal – Jake can take over for you in the weapons department. Plus, we're the best in Bunker Nine – we can get it done."

Beckendorf nods at this. He'd be the first to call Leo out on baseless confidence, but everyone in all the Bunkers know that what Leo's said is true. "Two many cooks spoil the broth."

"Two's company, three's a crowd," Leo responds.

Beckendorf nods at Leo's toolbelt. "New?"

"Magical item, you said," Annabeth says, uncrossing her arms and walking close enough to tweak Leo's belt with her fingers. Hazel's eyes go wide, and even Frank falls back as though recognizing the unmistakeable aura of leadership that Annabeth carries.

Leo unhooks the belt and hands it to her. "It can give me pretty much any tool I need," he says smugly, pulling a screwdriver from one of the pouches. Beckendorf raises his eyebrows and Annabeth hands it back and teases, "It looks great. You'll get all the ladies with this, panty-dropper." Hazel lets out a tiny squeak.

Leo makes a big show of pretending to be struck in the heart, which makes Annabeth grin and Beckendorf sigh. Hazel looks mortified at the display, so Leo stops quickly enough, even though he loves it when Annabeth stops being everyone's demanding big sister and plays along with his jokes.

"Uh," Hazel gulps, pointing between Annabeth and Leo. "Are you two…" She raises her eyebrows.

Annabeth bursts into laughter so fast it would honestly be hurtful if Leo wasn't also laughing at the thought of Annabeth and him being an actual thing. He flirts with her, sure, but mostly just to piss her off. It's not that Annabeth isn't gorgeous – she really is. She could probably have been a model if she'd wanted to, the kind that wear weird clothes and pose in Vogue, but she's also kind of terrifying, and besides, only an idiot would get in between whatever the hell kind of unresolved sexual tension she and Percy have going on right now.

"Leo's like my little brother," Annabeth says fondly, ruffling his hair. "I love him, but I also want to kill him most of the time."

Leo bats her hand away, "No spheres for you with that attitude, woman," he says lightly, and Annabeth laughs again. She looks happy and hopeful, if a little sleepy, and Leo realizes it must be because they're not one step closer to getting the spheres made. Building the spheres isn't her responsibility, not her area of expertise, but he figures that a lot is riding on how well and how fast he can get this project afloat. As leader of the camp, Annabeth is probably shouldering a lot of that weight: he watches her stare at the boulder behind him with large eyes and resolves to try and get working as soon as he can, if only just to ease her burden a little.

Jason walks over to their little group, a yawning Percy in tow. "Here's your minor god," he tells Frank, smirking.

Leo's been so obsessed with the Bronze he'd forgotten about that little detail, and he begins to snicker behind his fist as Percy looks between them all confusedly and Frank turns a remarkable shade of magenta.

"What?" Annabeth asks, moving almost unconsciously to stand next to Percy, who loosens his shoulders almost imperceptibly when she reaches him. It's simultaneously both cute and nauseating, especially since he doubts they're both fully aware of how in tune with each other they are. Hazel, he notices, looks between Percy and Annabeth and seems to put two and two together. Leo snorts quietly to himself; he'll correct her later.

"Uh, it's a long story," Frank says uncomfortably, looking up at the leafy roof of the Bunker as though wondering what he can possibly shapeshift into to make a quick escape.

"I've got time, it's my patrol, anyway," Percy says huskily, blinking rapidly to wake himself up. "What's this about a minor god?" He glances at Leo. "Is this what Grover meant when he said it would be funny when we met?"

"It's both funny and kind of sad," Leo allows, and Frank shoots him a glare.

"Okay," he says, "a couple of weeks ago, in the Tualatins…"

"We were there," Annabeth nods. She and Percy share a loaded look.

"Uh, you went fishing," Frank says.

"Yeah, I did - were you watching me?" Percy asks, eyes wide. "Where were you? Grover said we were alone."

"I…you were…you caught me," Frank desperately, forgetting to make sense in his rush to get the story out as painlessly as possible. "I hit you across the face I'm so sorry I thought you were a minor god-"

"You were the koi!" Percy blusters at the same time Annabeth howls, "You thought he was a minor god?"

"Lead us well, Your Excellency," Jason says, turning to Percy dropping into a clumsy bow. Beckendorf and Hazel are both stifling giggles into their hands, and Frank, although blushing a shade of traffic-light red, still manages to manage a faint laugh. Leo smirks as Annabeth, who still looks oddly as though she's been clubbed over the head; she gives Percy a quick once-over and promptly turns pink.

"Choke and die," Percy tells Jason, although he's laughing the hardest out of them all. He shakes Frank's hand. "I'm flattered, but I'm just a regular son of Poseidon-"

"Regular, he says," grunts Beckendorf, glancing sideways at Hazel, who giggles cutely behind her hands. "As though there a dozen other children of Poseidon running around."

Percy huffs. "I thought that introducing myself as Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon, one of a kind would come off a little arrogant," he says, extending a hand to Hazel. "You must be Hazel, then? Thanks for letting us borrow your gold."

Hazel hesitates for a split second before shaking his hand, though she still can't maintain eye contact with him for longer than a few seconds. Leo had noticed fairly quickly that Hazel didn't seem like a tactile person, even with Frank. She seemed content enough to be holding his hand, and the only kisses Leo'd spotted between them was the one she'd planted on Frank's cheek a day or so before. They're such a contrast to Jason and Piper it's almost funny – Leo has half a mind to tell Jason to take notes on respectful PDA.

Percy smiles at her and takes his place next to Annabeth again. He nods at the boulder of Bronze. "Looks like shit."

"I hate you," Leo complains. "Do you know just how important that is – no don't touch it!" he scolds, and Percy withdraws his hand at once, looking like a petulant child. "From now on, only Beckendorf and I are allowed to touch it. We need to keep it as pure as possible before extracting the Bronze."

Percy steps back, saluting. "Sir yes sir." He glances quickly at the clock. "Okay, I have a three-hour shift to cover, so I'll see you guys later." He waves and drags Annabeth with him, who goes without argument.

"Three-hour shift?" Leo dreads his turn, but Beckendorf is already shaking his head.

"Hephaestus is on weapons duty – well, we'll be on sphere duty – exclusively. Everyone else has taken two-hour shifts to compensate." He glances at the boulder. "We'll get started on the spheres tomorrow."

Frank stifles a yawn behind them. Leo smiles, "We'll get some beds out for you guys, too."

"Thanks," Frank says, who is so sleepy he's forgotten how much he hates Leo.

"Coming?" Beckendorf asks.

"You go on ahead," Leo says, already reaching out to grab the notes of the spheres. "I'll go to bed in a while."

Beckendorf nods and gestures for Frank and Hazel to follow him. Leo turns to his notes, humming.

He jumps when Hazel clears her throat behind him and spins to face her. "Yeah, Hazel?" He can't help wondering if this is the first time they've been alone together – Frank's really acted like her handler thus far, rarely allowing her out of his sight, and he seems to have some personal grudge against Leo, who, after a while, had given up on trying to talk to Hazel altogether.

Up close her skin looks smooth, like melted chocolate, and her eyes turn to liquid amber in the dim light from a nearby brazier. Leo gulps.

"I just wanted to say thank you," she says quietly, flicking her chin upwards so that their eyes meet. "For keeping my identity a secret, and stuff. I mean – it was your idea. So…um, thank you."

He blinks at her. She really could be a daughter of Ceres, he thinks – she's got a soft, earthy kind of beauty that Leo finds he prefers over all of the flashy daughters of Aphrodite from Bunker Ten.

He realizes too late he's been staring, and Hazel's looking awfully uncomfortable. He lets out a chuckle that he'd meant to sound suave but really comes out sounding constipated. "It was nothing."

"Still, thanks," she whispers, and shoots him a tiny smile. Quickly, as though scared of second-guessing herself, she reaches out to squeeze his hand. It lasts about two glorious seconds before she drops it like a hot potato, squeaks out a Good night and scurries away like a frightened rabbit.

Leo turns back to his notes, trying to focus. He studiously adds instructions to extract the Bronze from the ore and labels the more time-consuming procedures, but his hand still tingles where she'd made contact.

He drops his head onto the desk. When he closes his eyes, he feels the warmth from her smile spread all through his body.

Shit, he thinks. This can only mean trouble.

/

Percy's fighting a losing battle against the overflowing tampon cupboard.

"If you already have so many, why the hell did you make me steal more?" he asks Annabeth, who is sat cross-legged against the Map Wall, studying a worn scroll.

"You live in a Bunker with a lot of girls who are probably all synced up - we can never have too many tampons," Annabeth says, frowning at the document.

Frank walks in as Percy just as Percy gives up on closing the door, letting the tampons fall into and out of his outstretched arms, raining down to the ground like stringy, tubular snow.

"Uh," says Frank. "Why are you hoarding tampons?"

"They're not for me," Percy groans. "I have a lot of friends who menstruate, okay? Some of my closest friends happen to menstruate." Annabeth snorts.

"Ooh-kay," Frank mutters. "Anyway, I was wondering, Percy…if I could talk to you for a while."

"Sure," Percy says easily – he'd been expecting this ever since Frank's arrival into Nine, five days ago, now. "I'll take you to my secret spot."

"I hope you know your secret spot is where Jason and Piper go for some alone time," Annabeth says tartly.

Frank looks disgusted.

"Fuck you, Annabeth," Percy hisses. To Frank he says, over the sound of her raucous laughter, "Don't worry, Piper isn't even here. She's in Bunker Ten with her siblings - or maybe she's in Bunker Five now. Anyway. Don't listen to Annabeth, she just wants to rain on my parade."

Frank laughs quietly as Percy leads him through the closest tunnel. "You two make a cute couple."

Percy nearly trips over his own damn feet. "What- no," he says. "Annabeth and I – no. She's. No. I haven't been here for long."

It's the worst possible excuse for not dating someone, and Percy's aware of what a transparent fool he sounds like even as he says it. He's also aware that he spends the most time with Annabeth out of anyone else in the Bunker – his body seems to gravitate towards her in his off time and he ends up snoozing next to her as she studies. They also spar together in the evenings - although Jason and a couple of others join those sessions, too – and they eat together and have most of their patrols together, too.

It's a good thing her bed is a few away from his – Percy can honestly say he doesn't spend his entire day with her. That would just make him pathetic.

"You and Hazel, though," he says, changing tack at top speed. "You guys are really cute."

"Oh." Frank rubs his arm, turning pink. "Thanks."

Percy can't help smiling as he leads him up to the path to the cliff, where Jason had taken him before going on the Quest, because Frank genuinely seems like a good person. Percy had never thought it possible to call someone of Frank's stature cute, but Frank's got shiny eyes that curve into crescents when he smiles, and a round, innocent face that makes him seem younger than he really is. He and Hazel go well together – he can see that they're new in their relationship, still navigating how to act around each other, and how to act together as a couple around everyone else. They really are sweet, in a completely different way from Beckendorf and Silena, and Piper and Jason. They're cute in the way that reminds Percy of little kids in the playground that propose to each other, too young to know what marriage means. They give Percy hope for himself.

The clifftop is free, thankfully, from Piper, Jason, and any other couples getting some alone time. Percy sits down close to the edge, and Frank, after a moment's hesitation, follows suit, sitting down cross-legged next to him.

"What'd you want to know?" Percy asks, swinging his feet and breathing in the breeze.

Frank huffs out a laugh. "I don't know, really. It's a lot."

"You could start with why the hell you thought I was a minor god," Percy offers, grinning when Frank groans and buries his head in his hands.

"It's not my fault," Frank defends, endearingly pink-cheeked. "I just…the first time was a long time ago. I was on a Quest, from New Rome-" he holds up his tattooed arm, and Percy nods, having noticed it the minute they shook hands – "I was lost. They shift the entrances to the camp every few weeks. I was a new initiate, I was on a Quest with a few veterans, but we were attacked and I was separated from them. I must've spent two days looking for them, but then one day I came across you."

Percy frowns. "When was this?"

Frank scrunches up his nose as he searches his head. "Four-ish years ago, maybe? You looked…uh, no offense, but you looked like you'd been sleeping in the woods for weeks."

"I had been," Percy recalls, with a quirk of a smile. "Four years ago I was on the run." Looking for Nico, he doesn't say. He's still not sure about who else – other than Annabeth and Grover, whom he trusts with his life – about Nico. Hazel certainly does, at any rate. He's caught her staring at him thoughtfully several times, but she clams up every time he tries to make casual conversation, and it's killing him. More than anything he wants to know if Nico is alive and well. He can't break his promise to Bianca, too.

Four years ago would make it around the time Percy had met Tyson and Ella for the first time, too. He wonders where Frank had seen him.

"You were cleaning your wounds," Frank says thoughtfully. "Like…you were using the water to heal yourself. I turned into a fish and watched you, but you left before I could approach." He shrugs. "I'd never seen anything like it. Your cuts were closing up by themselves. I thought for sure that you had to be a minor god – it didn't even register that you didn't have ichor, and all that. I just thought…" He takes a long, shaky breath and fixes his eyes on the horizon. "I thought you might be able to help me."

"About what?" Percy questions. He waves his hand in the air, and a sheen of water vapour sparkles to life in front of them like a watery mirror. "I may not know a lot about the gods – Annabeth's your girl for that stuff – but this is about your powers, I can definitely help you out." He lets the water evaporate again. "I've been practicing for years."

Frank bites his lip for a minute. "It's about my powers," he says carefully, like he's afraid of giving something away, "but they're nothing like yours. I mean. Um. Have you heard of Periclymenus?"

He looks so hopeful that Percy feels horrible as he shakes his head no. Frank deflates. "Damn."

"You really should ask Annabeth," Percy offers. "She knows everything there is to know about…everything."

"Maybe I will," Frank says, considering. "I only know what my mom and grandmother told me, and that isn't much." He chuckles a little. "My grandmom always used to say, do not ask a Zhang woman her secrets. Or something like that. It definitely had something to do with not liking her answer. Words piercing like arrows. Something like that…"

Percy's mind has halted at Zhang. "That's your family name?"

Frank must sense something in his voice, because his little ramble ends abruptly. "Yeah," he says suspiciously. "Why?"

Percy runs a hand through his hair. "Do you know an Emily Zhang?"

Frank stills. Percy waits, and watches with a feeling of dread in his stomach as the pallor of his skin goes white.

"She was my mother," Frank says, hushed. "Did you…did you know her?"

Percy inhales sharply. "I didn't. I wasn't at New Rome long enough. But…" He gulps and faces Frank. "I was with her for the final battle. With all the legacies. When they…" He can't say it; Frank bows his head. "She was Commander," he continues. "It was her call that saved New Rome. She's a hero."

"She was a hero," Frank corrects. His eyes are misty, but he smiles. "I know what she did. Reyna filled me when I told her my last name – that's why I got my tattoo so early, it was a respect thing, for what my mother did for them." He laughs hollowly. "I think…the day she left, part of me knew how grave the situation was. I knew she wouldn't come back."

Percy doesn't quite know what to say, so he settles on: "She looked at your picture. Before the final battle." He swallows. "She loved you very much."

Frank nods. "She did it to save me, my grandmother said." He sighs. "I thought I made peace with her death, y'know? But it doesn't get easier. Dealing with it."

"Yeah," Percy agrees fervently. "I-I've lost my mom, too. I know exactly what you mean."

"Thanks, man."

They sit in a comfortable silence for a while, watching a flock of birds rise from the trees.

"This is a nice place to get some alone time," Frank says. "I like the Bunker, don't get me wrong, but-"

"No privacy," Percy agrees. "I mean, I spent years on the run, and then all of a sudden I can't go two minutes without someone begging me to do their laundry."

Frank drums a pattern on his knee. "New Rome is kind of the same. Reyna's trying to keep everyone organized into the cohorts, still, but…yeah. No privacy."

"How's New Rome?" Percy asks. "Reyna doing okay?"

He'd liked New Rome, after all, even if he hadn't stayed long. The Romans had been the first people to accept Percy for his demigod blood, and he remembers getting drunk off of shitty wine with Dakota and Gwen and a bunch of others the day before the battle was to begin. New Rome had been beautiful, nestled in a ring of mountains, the Little Tiber curling around the encampment like a moat.

All that beauty had been destroyed the moment the monsters came close. The forests were burned down, the buildings and temples set on fire. Percy hadn't stuck around long enough to join the other demigods in their underground camp, but he doesn't suppose it would ever compare.

"Reyna's good," Frank says. "She's praetor now."

"Alone?" Percy asks, worried. Praetors usually come in pairs – Jason had told him he'd turned down Reyna's offer, but there had been a lot of good demigods at New Rome.

"Octavian," says Frank with distaste.

"Oh no," Percy says in horror. The only thing he remembers about Octavian is the augur trying to weed out Nico and Bianca's parentage by asking them all kinds of confusing questions – Percy doesn't even remember him actually taking part in the fight. "He's the worst."

"He is," says Frank fervently. "I think Reyna's hoping he has a really bad vision and dies, or something."

Percy laughs, and Frank looks pleased.

Then Percy remembers, "Your mom was a legacy."

Frank nods. "Yeah."

"But you're a demigod?"

"Yeah. And a legacy." Frank shrugs. "My family is descended from Periclymenus, who was a legacy of Poseidon. That's why I can shapeshift."

Something clicks in his head. "That's why you were stalking me! You thought I was some minor-godly Poseidon-y god!"

"I did not stalk you," Frank cuts in, affronted. "I only tried to track you from a safe distance, and kinda badly, too. I lose you within five minutes."

Percy bumps his shoulder. "Don't be ashamed, stalker. It's a good thing I didn't get a restraining order, though, huh?"

"You're never going to drop this, are you," Frank complains, though he's smiling.

"See, you know me so well already," Percy crows. "We really are related."

"I could turn into a bird and fly away right now," Frank shrugs.

"You wouldn't leave Hazel," Percy points out. "But speaking of shapeshifting, you totally owe me for hitting me across the face. Which reminds me, we need to check if I can still talk to you when you're in fish-mode." It's been bugging him ever since he found out Frank could turn into animals.

"I regret every single second I spent stalking you," Frank says.

Percy grins. "Knew you were a stalker."

/

Despite it being something of a culture shock, Hazel grows to like Bunker Nine.

It's a blur at first: her head is a whirlwind of names and parentages and one-line backgrounds as everyone makes their way to her to shake her hand and welcome her to the Bunker. She quickly gets the feeling that everyone in the Bunker is an equal member no matter their age or heritage, even if the older demigods carry an aura that suggests many, many years of hardship.

She can tell Frank's having a bit of a harder time settling in – he keeps grumbling about how things were different in New Rome, making references to all these routines that only Jason seems to understand – but after a few days of bumbling around, trying to get used to how the little camp runs, Hazel decides she loves the place.

For one thing, it's built in the rocks. Hazel feels right at home navigating the tunnels: she learns them all within her first day and even discovers a few secret ones that nobody seems to know about – Annabeth is extremely appreciative of the fact when Hazel tells her and tells her she'd love to go exploring one day when she's not busy. She introduces Hazel to her fake half-siblings, the sons and daughters of Demeter, who take her under their wing immediately and teach her everything there is to know about their farmlands nestled deep in the mountains. They are so easily accepting and nice to her that Hazel begins to feel like a tool for lying to them, but Annabeth had told her to maintain her cover for as long as possible, and so Hazel keeps up the sham, sensing the minerals in the soil and offering suggestions whenever she can.

Beckendorf proves to be an unexpected friend. Although he never says it, he seems to have guessed something about her parentage and soon he's calling her over to the forges where he works with Leo on the Bronze she'd brought them, asking her to double-check their purification methods. Hazel, even though risking the exposure of her true identity, obliges at once every time because she likes Beckendorf's company. He feels safe in the way Frank does, and oh – why not admit it? He's Black, just like her. Hazel's never met someone like her before – Frank, being half-Chinese and half-Canadian, is just about her polar opposite in race – and Beckendorf looks like he could be her family. He reminds her of her mother, and he feels very much like an older brother, and she likes it very, very much. He promises her an ear if she ever wants to talk, and even though he doesn't say about what, she understands.

And her cheeks warm and a tight, prickling sensation builds at the corner of her eyes as she nods at him gratefully, because it feels extremely wonderful to be understood.

Hazel marks Annabeth as a force to be reckoned with about five seconds into their first real conversation. The daughter of Athena is tall and beautiful and sharp: she exudes an air that is impossible to ignore. When she speaks, everyone shuts up and listens. During her tour of the Bunker, Hazel gets the impression that Annabeth runs a highly efficient camp, and she leads as though born for the role. Every single one of the sixty-odd demigods who reside in Bunker Nine seem to come to Annabeth when they need help – from Beckendorf, who towers over them all like a small giant, to Victoria, a tiny daughter of Apollo who comes to the daughter of Athena and requests a bedtime story. Annabeth indulges everyone with open arms and a clear judgement, and she still finds time for herself. Annabeth's got a soft spot for studying architecture and hoards books like squirrels store acorns in the winter, Leo informs her gleefully, and sure enough, Hazel, woken by a flashback in the middle of the night, sits up in her bed to find Annabeth bent over a stone table some distance away, sketching furiously, bathed in candlelight.

Another one of Annabeth's weaknesses seems to be Percy himself – and Hazel hadn't known what to expect after hearing so much about the son of Poseidon, especially after remembering his name from Nico – but Percy seems almost hilariously regular in his behaviour. He is, of course, unfairly attractive – on this account she does not blame Frank in the slightest for believing he was a minor god, because Percy has a sharp, almost fey-like beauty that leaves Hazel breathless most of the time. He fights like a demon - if demons could make you stop and stare at just how beautifully they fought – and his control over water is stunning to watch. As one of the Big Three's children, Hazel can appreciate Percy's abilities for what they are – the result of years of practice. She's finally gotten a hold on her own powers – she can create and collapse tunnels at will, now, but she'd had to put in months of nonstop work to get where she is today, and every second of it had been bitter.

Percy is far more ordinary in his character than anything else. Annabeth, who is one of the most calm, fair, and composed people Hazel has ever met, seems to lose her head entirely any time Percy is in the vicinity. He can be forgetful – Hazel's had to rescue him from going down the wrong passage three times already – and he has a terrible fondness for puns: he and Leo tend to go back-and-forth during dinnertime, armed with an arsenal of jokes that are only slightly funny, really, making Jason and Annabeth groan every time. Percy and Leo are also engaged in some kind of prank war dating back to the week Percy had joined the Bunkers, which results in far more collateral damage than actual victories for either side. In fact, Leo had spent a solid hour running away from a ball of water hovering above his head and gathering more moisture that Percy was controlling. It had been hilarious to watch Leo sprinting around the Bunker as Percy cackled from the sidelines, at least until Leo had crashed into Hazel, who had stumbled into Annabeth, sending all three of them to the ground just as the huge bubble of water burst above them, giving them all an impromptu shower.

"I don't deserve this," Leo had muttered under his breath. "I'm going to set his pants on fire."

"I'm so sorry, Annabeth," Hazel had told Annabeth miserably.

"Don't worry about it, Hazel," Annabeth smiled. Then her voice sharpened. "Leo, Percy, I'm going to knock the living daylights out of you."

"This is Percy's fault!" Leo had yelped.

"Percy, you'd better watch your back," Annabeth threatened.

"What t- this is a clear, unfair bias!" Percy screeched, ducking as Annabeth sent her knife flying at him. Then he'd walked right into Shane, who was carrying a load of swords, and nearly gotten himself impaled.

That had been when Hazel had realized, with something like awe: Oh, he's an idiot.

Because Percy falls asleep when he's on guard duty almost every night and he begs Leo for seconds at mealtimes and he's great with the kids, pretending to get stabbed by Gus during sword training, going down with an overdramatic wail that makes Annabeth yell at him to get serious. He is nothing like the enigma Nico had made him out to be, and yet he still lives up to every bit of the 'minor god' persona Frank had described, all the while reeking this aura of dishevelled college student.

He's got secrets, she knows – secrets Hazel can tell he wants to discuss with her, judging by the way he nods at her slightly every time they cross paths, like they're both part of the same underground crime ring. She would avoid him forever if not for the fact that he can be impossibly charming when he wants to be. Hazel has a sneaking suspicion that he wants to talk to her about Nico, and the thought both enthuses and terrifies her, because if Percy knows about Nico's past, maybe he's guessed hers. She's fairly sure Annabeth must already suspect something – the daughter of Athena always looks strangely lost in thought every time Hazel opens her mouth, but Hazel can't just not speak at all, what with everyone being so nice so as to come and talk to her as often as they can, as though they're afraid she won't like living in their home. Hazel's been trying to mimic the slang Leo uses in effort to appear more – modern, but the phrases sound unfamiliar and awkward coming from her mouth, so she gives it up in frustration.

A few days after their arrival at Bunker Nine, two of the prettiest girls Hazel has ever seen in her life walk in, and she is immediately uncomfortable. They are so beautiful they could be supermodels or actresses in the mortal world, and Hazel's heart sinks at once, recalling years and years of the rich girls in her old town flipping their perfectly-styled hair and making fun of her shabby clothes. These two girls are wearing the same rags as everyone else, but they seem to glow brighter, and it makes her feel hopelessly inferior.

They soon shatter all her expectations by proving to be extremely nice. Both daughters of Aphrodite, they hug her as soon as Annabeth calls her over, even though Hazel is sweaty from working in the fields outside, and they seem excited to see her – "Percy wasn't exactly what we wanted in a new initiate, he made everything worse," says one of the girls, who introduces herself as Piper. Piper isn't much taller than she is, and her skin is a warm tone of bronze. Her eyes shine in the dappled light and turn different colors like a kaleidoscope, and Hazel can hardly imagine her to be the warrior that her toned, scarred arms suggest.

Piper gives Leo a big hug as he wanders over, his head buried in a piece of parchment; Leo responds with equal enthusiasm, even permitting Piper to kiss his cheek.

"Oh," says Hazel, feeling relived for reasons she doesn't even want to begin to explain, "are you two in a relationship, then?"

This gives them both a good laugh. Piper releases Leo, who wipes at his cheek at once where she'd touched it with her lips, though he is still grinning. Piper ruffles his hair, sending it into even more of a mess, and says, "Leo's like family at this point. He's my oldest friend – how could I ever kiss those lips when I've known all the places they've been?"

Hazel must look questioning – truthfully she has no inclination of ever learning all the girls Leo has probably kissed – and Piper grins. "He kissed a cockroach."

"It was a cricket!" Leo screams, looking betrayed. "And you shoved it into my mouth, you heathen!"

Piper only cackles in response.

The other girl, Silena, is tall and willowy and stunning. She throws herself into Beckendorf's arms and kisses him soundly on the lips and smiles at him so brightly it makes Hazel's teeth ache – from that interaction she surmises that this must be the girlfriend on the important mission Beckendorf had been missing so sorely. She notes with surprise that most of the older demigods seem to be paired up – Piper and Jason, Beckendorf and Silena, Percy and Annabeth…though she isn't fully sure of the last one, because Piper hoots loudly when Hazel voices her thoughts out loud.

Silena is perfect for Beckendorf, with a personality as charming as her good looks - she immediately compliments Hazel's hair and moans about how "pretty and clear her skin is." She gives off an 'older sister' aura that Hazel finds herself leaning into unconsciously, and when she musters up the courage to ask for some hair ties, Silena gives her a whole box full of rubber bands of different sizes and colors and begins to chatter about how pretty her hair will look in a ponytail puff.

Hazel nods along, more out of shock than anything, as Silena fusses over her in a very mother-hen-esque manner, clucking her tongue and petting her head and offering her different kinds of clips and hair pins, too. By the time she's finished with her initial examination of her, Hazel feels a bit as though she's been stampeded with words. From a few metres away, Beckendorf catches her eye, tips his head towards Silena, and rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, making Hazel smile.

Still, though, she takes the clips that Silena suggests, and the other girl beams and presses a kiss to her cheek that makes Hazel warm up.

"Your hair is so pretty, though," Hazel says a little enviously. Silena has real movie-star hair, the kind she hadn't believed existed in real life. Her own curls are unruly as all hell and feel like straw after so many years of neglect – she doesn't hate them by any means, of course: they suit her skin and face shape and she is proud of how unique they are to her, but she can't deny that they are a little tough to manage, especially in a fight.

"She uses a special shampoo," Piper says confidentially, grinning when Silena turns bright red. "It's the fancy shit that costs a million bucks, the kind only celebrities use. Annabeth goes batshit every time Silena asks her to get it on a run."

Silena squeals and covers her face. "Is it a crime to want my hair looking nice?"

"Silena," Piper says, rolling her eyes, "There's no crime in that, but your hair looks the same whether you use the shampoo or not."

"No, it doesn't!" She turns to Hazel with shining eyes. "Ohmygods, Hazel. You have got to try it. I'm telling you, you'll come out of the bath feeling like you're floating on clouds, and it'll literally feel like your hair has been given another chance at life." She sighs overdramatically. "Last time I was on a Quest, I couldn't use it for weeks, and my hair looked like burned grass." She wrinkles her nose. "I wish the brand did travel-size bottles."

"You looked the same!" Piper protests. "I come back from the baths looking worse than I did before."

"I do need to wash my hair," Hazel tells Silena. "It has been months since I got to do it."

"Yes! I'll give you the shampoo. You're the cutest, Hazel." Silena grabs Annabeth, who is passing by, fixes her with a pointed look, and says, "Annabeth, you could really stand to learn to follow the exemplary example Hazel's setting and let me at least comb your hair once in a while."

"My hair is fine," Annabeth protests, patting the top of her own head in a gesture shockingly innocent, even as Hazel blushes from Silena's praise. Annabeth's hair is wavy and curls at the ends – not the way Hazel's does, though – and it's in worse shape than hers, probably because she doesn't care about hair maintenance. She's stuck it up in a bun today. There are strands falling over her forehead and she must've been outside, because there're several leaves stuck in the back.

"We were just in Bunker Ten," Piper divulges to Hazel, smirking. "They give us makeovers every time we go there." She nods at her own hair, which has been braided with flowers, and lends quite subtly to Piper's whole naturally-beautiful look. "Annabeth hasn't been there in years, my siblings will rip her apart. They might even wash her hair with shampoo and make her use conditioner."

"I use shampoo!" Annabeth protests, turning pink. "Just because I try to ration the amounts -"

"I will bathe you in it," Silena threatens, waggling her finger at the daughter of Athena, who sighs in exasperation. "Come on, I needed a bath anyway, I'll show you the real way to wash your hair -" She drags Annabeth away; Annabeth turns around to shoot a pleading glance at Piper, who only giggles and waves.

It is much later that night when Hazel finally realizes she'd just been treated to her first experience of girl talk, and the thought makes her grin madly into her pillows.

It is a week before Percy and Jason invite her to what they call their special sparring sessions. They invite Frank, too, and Annabeth, and Piper, and Leo, and a few others, but they don't join as often as Hazel is forced to – Percy and Jason seem unwilling to take no as an answer when it's Hazel who is saying it. They drag her outside every single day, even rousing her early in the mornings on some days – they prefer to spar in the Great Outdoors, Percy says, to make best use of their elemental powers, and this way Hazel can get some practice in, too.

It's fun. It's so much fun. Percy and Jason teach her new sword techniques – which is something she really needs - and they correct her stances. They teach her some hand-to-hand combat and they never go easy on her, and they give as good as they get – Hazel hasn't felt this free in using her powers in a long, long time.

She enjoys watching them fight, too. Percy moves like the water he controls, with a kind of beautiful, fluid grace, and Jason alternates frustratingly between solid stances and a kind of bouncy, airy technique that drives Percy insane. Jason commands the winds the same way Percy can stop a river, the same way Hazel can create a chasm if she stomps hard on the ground. He creates walls of air that can deflect a blow from Percy's weapon, can send Hazel sprawling with a strong gust. He's apparently learning to work with lightning, and he's good at it, too – he almost singes Percy's eyebrows off, once, which sends Hazel into fits of laughter.

Frank joins them on most days – Percy sets him on his idea of transforming different parts of his body into different animals, and watching her boyfriend slowly being to experiment and test the limits of his abilities makes her warm all over her body. Frank's been terrified, she knows, of what he can do, and he spends most of his time trying not to think of the extent of it. He's worried for himself, he knows, and for her, too, but now that they're safe for the time being, he deserves these small moments of freedom.

Piper is deadly with her dagger, but her real strength lies in her voice. Charmspeak is a special ability to children of Aphrodite, Jason explains to Hazel in a tone straining with pride, and Piper's the only one in all the Bunkers who is gifted with it – it makes her very valuable, and very dangerous. Hazel likes watching Piper distract her opponents with the weirdest of commands that never fail to leave the rest of them in splits. On one memorable occasion, she makes Leo do this weird dance (Leo calls it the Macarena) in the middle of their sparring session, and Hazel laughs until her cheeks hurt.

It is lucky that Leo is too busy making the special spheres, because Frank still tenses up when the son of Hephaestus is around. Leo is careless with his fire – even though he does tone it down when she and Frank are around – and almost always ends up setting something on fire. Percy is on permanent fireman duty, and he carries out his duties with diligence, although when Leo sets Annabeth's sleeve on fire, Percy just shrugs and tells her to "Stop, drop, and roll like everyone else."

Annabeth repays the favor by absolutely demolishing Percy during their next sparring match, kicking his (forgive her language) butt so thoroughly he ends up disarmed and stretched flat over the ground. Annabeth is possibly the most tactical and skilled out of them all – only Jason is more experienced than she – and the best part about watching Annabeth is that Hazel almost always ends up learning something from it. Annabeth's fighting style is looser in stance than Jason's, but not nearly as unrestrained as Percy's, and she is insanely fast, moving in precise, clean steps. There is a certain clarity to her movements that makes them appear easy to follow but are actually supremely difficult in practice. When Annabeth catches Hazel trying to practice one of her moves – some kind of complicated spinning kick – she doesn't hesitate to teach her.

It's hard to believe, sometimes, that they're gearing up for a war. Annabeth sits her down one day and explains what they know about the 'new' Prophecy, and it makes her blood run cold. It had terrified her way back when Frank had told her about Kronos overthrowing the gods – meaning none of what Hazel had died for had ended up mattering at all - but to hear that, as a child of the Big Three, she was at risk again? It made her want to break down – and she did, too, privately in her bed that night.

Frank worries for New Rome, but Annabeth gives her word that they're on it. According to her, Leo is working on some kind of technology that could keep them in touch with New Rome, and when the time comes, they would be informed of everything.

She sees signs of what's to come in the grim expressions of the demigods around her, in the way the children of Hephaestus turn into machines, churning out innumerable weapons – spears and shields and swords and knives and arrows – that are distributed all through their network of Bunkers. She sees it in the way loads and loads of sleeping potions are brought in from Bunker Ten, because the threat of another War has only intensified the nightmares.

And somehow, at the same time, when Hazel spent time with her new friends, it was as though the group was sitting in a cafe in the city, cheering each other and talking dirty the way any other group would. She enjoys the moments it is just a handful of them gathered around the hearth, enjoying the warmth and talking about anything and everything under the sun.

On most days, though, it is Percy and Jason and Hazel, going absolutely mental with the surroundings as their only resources. She knows they're doing this for her benefit as fellow children of the Big Three, and they don't have to do it, but Hazel is thankful for them anyway, and she begins to think of them as older brothers despite the color of their skin – sometimes families can include pasty white boys, too.

She is thankful for everyone in the Bunkers, really. She likes everyone, and even though there are some traditions she has to get used to – such as sacrificing part of their meal to the gods, which she laments as a waste of food - and the only thing holding her back from joining in wholeheartedly is her own past, hanging over like her like a stormcloud, which really does stink, because she feels at home in Nine, and she feels a part of something for the first time in her life.

Hazel hasn't had many friends. Save for Sammy, she hadn't had any at all, really. Having all these kind people around her makes her heart ache for something she'd never experienced, and she's terrified that they'll turn their backs on her once they find out she is lying to them, which is why –

"I have to tell them," Hazel says to Frank, who stops midway through trying to turn his hand into a bear's claw.

"Are you sure?" Frank asks, staring at her, utterly bamboozled. "I mean, I'm for it if you are, but are you sure?"

"Just to Annabeth and the rest," Hazel decides, placing her chin atop her open palms. "Honestly, I'd tell just Annabeth, since she suspects something anyway, but I'm sure she'll tell Percy anyway. Percy will probably tell Jason or Piper, who will tell their other half, and then Leo, so I might as well tell them all at once." She pauses, pulling at a loose string on her jeans, which are clearly second-hand, but fit her well. "I trust them."

"I do, too." Frank's easy admission eases the last of her nerves – if he hadn't liked being at Bunker Nine, Hazel wouldn't have hesitated to leave. Frank's got great intuition – one might even be tempted to call it animal instinct – and if he has a bad feeling about someone, he's usually right, like that one time he'd gotten 'a bad vibe' from a particularly benevolent café owner, who had then turned out to be an empousa in disguise.

"I want to talk to Percy, too," Hazel murmurs. "About Nico."

Frank scoots closer to her and places his hand gently on her knee, with just enough pressure to make her blush. She's noticed Frank's been a lot more touchy with her these days – perhaps spurred on by Leo's very presence, though it could very well be the influence of the other couples around them. Hazel finds she quite likes the change.

"You should," he says gently. "Percy seems like a good guy – even if he isn't what we expected." He smiles when she huffs out a laugh.

"I just want to know what he knows. Maybe – maybe he knows why Nico brought me back." She stares at Frank's hand. It's much larger than hers and she can see the veins pop out when he flexes his fingers. It is the same color as Nico's – only her brother's hand had been bony and small, the bones jutting out. Hazel remembers distinctly wondering if he was a skeleton, a doubt she'd held back for fear of being rude.

She slips into a flashback so smoothly she doesn't even notice when it happens. She doesn't see much this time – glimpses of Asphodel and, terrifyingly, the cavern where she'd spent days on end lifting a golden coffin from the ground, but she's shaken awake by Frank with a different kind of urgency, and she comes to with a gasp, blinking away the bright lights.

Annabeth's face swims into vision, and she looks stricken. "Are you okay? You were like – twitching and mumbling –"

"Nightmares," Hazel says quickly well aware that she's fooling nobody. "I must've fallen asleep-"

"Hazel, you were seizing," Annabeth says, horrified. "Are- does this happen a lot? We have some potions you could try-"

"That would be great," Frank replies abruptly. "But it's just a nightmare."

Annabeth frowns, evidently not believing it. Frank flushes a little, and Annabeth turns her clever eyes to Hazel and raises a single brow.

"It's fine, Annabeth," Hazel adds quickly, recognizing the mulish look in the other girl's eyes all too well. Despite all attempts to remain blank, she can't quite stop herself from shrinking under her gaze. "It was a pretty bad dream."

Unable to form words any further, she simply stares up at her and hopes all his secrets will not reveal themselves on his face.

Softening and recognizing the dismissal, Annabeth clamps her hand atop Hazel's shoulder and squeezes.

"Tell me if you need anything," she says, but there's a speculative expression on her face and Hazel knows that her flimsy excuses haven't worked even a little on the daughter of Athena.

Frank turns to her when she's out of earshot. "What do you want to do?"

Hazel shakes her head dismal. "I don't have a clue. All I know is I've got to find a way to tell Annabeth before she figures it out."

He raises his brows. "How long do you think that'll be?"

"Probably tomorrow," Hazel speculates with a grimace, but she smiles, and allows herself to revel in his sound of his answering laugh.

/

Annabeth prefers when she's assigned to other exits for patrol, because they're far more secluded than the main entrance.

Today she's armed with her sketchbook (which is really a fancy name for a couple of pages of parchment tied together with a bit of string), several shading pencils, and a large lit candle (plus an extra one for when the first one melts). She sets everything down before lowing herself to the cool stone, stretching her legs out into the grass so that she sits half in the Labyrinth and half out of it.

It's a pleasant, starry night with a breeze calm enough for the candle to stay bright and burning. The tunnel she's guarding leads further, deeper into the mountains, where it is nothing but dense wood and flashes of sky only barely visible through the foliage. Monsters scarcely make their way this far into the forests, and there's an even lesser chance of it happening now that the barriers have been strengthened, so Annabeth pulls her jacket more securely around herself and gets ready for an uneventful night.

Halfway through her first sketch, Annabeth startles at the sound of voices echoing through the tunnel behind her. Her hand, which had grasped her knife at once, relaxes when she recognizes the voices, and soon enough Jason, Percy, and Hazel round the corner, laughing.

They grin when they notice her, and Annabeth waves, expecting them to pass her by. Jason casts her drawing an interested glance as he crosses her, and Hazel graces her with a tiny smile. Percy, though, stops next to her and motions for the other two to go without him. Hazel smiles a bit wider at this, but Jason shoots Annabeth a specific look that she knows to mean that Piper will be hearing about this.

She doesn't want to deal with Piper's knowing looks, but she can't find it in herself to get mad at Percy – she enjoys his company.

Annabeth isn't sure when she and Percy crossed the line from being acquaintances that snarked at each other into actual friendship territory, but she's glad for it. She has never enjoyed the company of weak-willed people: she likes people with a bit of drive and spirit in them, people who can really push her to be better.

Percy challenges her in every way - intellectually, morally, physically - and even though it had infuriated her during his first few weeks at the Bunker, she has grown to appreciate it, now. Percy is witty and genuinely a good person, the kind that just – cares with his whole heart behind it, and he has a manner about him that immediately invites intimate friendship, the sort that usually takes years to develop.

Ever since their Quest she's found herself seeking him out often just to talk, which is new for her. She isn't really big on sharing, but she'd found quickly that she was capable of spending hours laughing with Percy one day, and the next day having a sober debate with him, and the day after that speaking about personal matters. With astonishing speed she's come to trust Percy absolutely, largely because she can tell he feels the same way, and because it is clear that Percy is fond of Annabeth for her merits and not for her position in the Bunkers.

He sits down cross-legged next to her, and his knees almost touch her thigh. He takes deep gulps from his water bottle and fixes his gaze on a distant tree. Annabeth goes back to drawing.

He is silent for a long time, which Annabeth appreciates, especially since she's determined to finish her design. She'd honestly been worried about Percy being one of those talkative types ever since their first raid together, but he's since proved that the nonstop chatter he'd exposed her to back then had been the result of nerves. Percy can be very quiet when he wants to be, and he somehow always knows when she needs some quiet, too.

When she's done with her drawing – which has turned into a small shrine to Artemis, the kind Annabeth can picture happening across in the middle of a dense jungle – she places her supplies at her other side and stretches her arms.

"How was training?" she asks Percy, who snaps out his daze and turns to face her with a blinding smile.

"Hazel turned the ground into something like quicksand and Jason sunk in till his knees," he says enthusiastically. "We had to pause sparring to pull him out."

She snorts. "Fun," she says, a little regretful and a little jealous – but she is glad Jason and Percy and Hazel have found each other. Annabeth had watched Thalia for years – long enough for her to understand that even surrounded by other demigods, the daughter of Zeus had felt singled out from the rest of them. She'd been lonely – very few had the skill to match her in a swordfight, and fewer still could take her on when she used her powers. Annabeth had worked day and night to get herself to a level where she could withstand – and sometimes even defeat – Thalia at her full strength, but even then there had been times Thalia would need a release, one that Annabeth wouldn't be able to contain.

Annabeth knows she will never really be able to understand what it feels like to have so much potential energy brimming under her skin at all times – something Jason, Percy, and Hazel all have in common. The three of them are nature itself, in the form of a lightning storm, a tsunami, and an earthquake – they're simultaneously awe-inspiring and utterly terrifying, and when she watches the three of them fight, she can't help but feel like they move on a plane completely different from hers. They're in a different world, and she wants in, but the key to it is elusive.

They need to let loose to stay sane, and she gets it – but she wishes she could be there with them, sometimes. Annabeth doesn't have any special powers – her cap of invisibility had been a gift, albeit a very useful one, and the rest of her skills she built up by herself. The one thing she was born with is her quick, curious mind, and it's handy in a fight, but it had been a long time before she'd come to appreciate it – after all, it's not something flashy she can show off, like creating a hurricane.

"Hazel's improving fast," Percy says with glowing pride – which is another thing she's been thinking about. Hazel.

Annabeth likes the daughter of Pluto. She really does. Hazel is small and quiet and sweet. She's humble, helpful, and so, so polite – but there's something off about her, and she can't quite put her finger on what it is.

Annabeth knows everyone has their secrets. Hell, so does she. But Hazel's seems more of the sinister kind rather than the personal kind – and Frank's in on it, too. He's always hovering around her like he expects her to collapse or something, and the other day, Hazel had been having something like a fit in her sleep before Annabeth had intervened. That hadn't been an ordinary nightmare, even though both Hazel and Frank had tried to play it off as one.

Her instincts are telling her they aren't spies, but there's still something there, something weird.

None of her theories make sense, but she doesn't quite dare to simply ask Hazel about it just yet. They've been getting along well, slowly getting to know each other, and she is loath to do anything that might jeopardise that and scare her off. She'd ask Frank, but he seems fiercely devoted to Hazel for reasons unknown, and she doesn't want to disrespect Hazel by going behind her back.

Of course, that doesn't mean she won't speculate to her heart's content, but it does mean that she will keep her nose where it belongs.

She wants to tell Percy or Piper about her suspicions, but Percy is the kind of person who wears his heart on his sleeve and wouldn't be able to act natural around Hazel anymore if he knew, and Piper is the kind of person who believes that if everyone in the world just talked out every single little thing, everything would be fine and dandy and picture-goddamn-perfect. She's probably right, but it's easy for her to say - she isn't the one who actually has to talk to Hazel.

So instead of asking Hazel about her secrets, Annabeth had decided to settle for observing her behaviour unobtrusively – no, she isn't spying, but so far, she's still clueless.

Gods, not knowing is eating her up inside, but she doesn't know what to think about it – she doesn't want to make Hazel uncomfortable, not when she's finally opening up, approaching Annabeth of her own accord and asking all kinds of questions about their little world. Annabeth likes curious people – she's a curious person, and she knows how damaging it had been when her father shut her down time and time again. She isn't going to be mean to Hazel, even if she is kind of suspicious.

Percy waves his hand in front of her face and she jumps. "Annabeth?"

"Yeah?"

"You kinda zoned out," Percy says. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she says quickly, shaking her head and trying for an authentic grin. She must not succeed at it, because Percy raises his eyebrows at her. "I just thinking that if I joined your training sessions, I'd have you all beat in less than five minutes."

"You beat me once," says Percy, affronted. She doesn't even need to look up to know he's grinning. "Don't get ahead of yourself."

"I did not beat you once, I beat you at least seven times!" Annabeth yelps, punching him in the shoulder. "I've even written it down somewhere – you've beat me five times, I've beaten you seven times, and we've drawn five-two times, and this is only after I started keeping track of our matches, I haven't counted the first few weeks, but I beat you then, too-"

Percy grins. "Everything's a competition with you, huh?"

"Only with things I refuse to lose," Annabeth answers hotly, and Percy shakes his head as he lets the wind carry away his laugh.

Annabeth rolls her eyes, circling her shoulders as she fights the urge to smile, as Percy hunches forward to catch his chin in his hands. She studies him, noting his stiff shoulders, and her eyes go to the scar Iapetus had left him. She thinks she can almost see it through his shirt, which is when it hits her that Percy's wearing a thin t-shirt, the kind that doesn't leave much to the imagination. Plus, thanks to his training session, he's still sweating, leaving his shirt nearly soaking and clinging to his skin in a way that snaps her right out of any urge she'd had to laugh.

"Annabeth?" Percy asks again, turning his head around to fix her with a confused look. "You sure you're okay? You seem distracted."

I am, Annabeth thinks viciously, desperately. Your shirt is very, very rude and you are very, very dense.

"I know what's up," Percy says knowingly, nodding at her. "It's Hazel and Frank, isn't it? You're worried they're spies."

She blinks, astounded by the certainty of his tone and the fact that he hadn't been wrong, exactly. It's one of her worries, if not the worry, but she's impressed nevertheless.

"How'd you know?" she asks, a little peeved that he seems to have figured her out so quickly.

He smirks, satisfied. "You have a tell. A nervous habit, kinda."

"Impossible, Annabeth says, victorious, because she doesn't have any nervous habits.

"You bite your nails."

"I do not!" she cries out, slighted, but Percy only sighs, grabbing her hand and lifting it up, displaying the stubby evidence for all the world to see. His warm fingers curl around her for the briefest of moments, and Annabeth blinks at it for a few seconds before sliding it out of his grasp.

"You know," she says, "I'm wondering if I should start worrying about how you know all this about me. You're like a stalker."

Percy rolls his eyes. "You're the one that calls me every two minutes when I'm out of your sight like you're afraid I'm going to fuck something up."

She scoffs, unable to refute the statement, and Percy grins.

"So," he says, changing the subject back. "You were saying you were scared about Frank and Hazel?"

"Not entirely," she tries, but when Percy shoots her a look that indicates she isn't fooling anyone, she abandons the pretense at once. "I like them, I'm just – I dunno. They're hiding something, don't you think?"

"Frank has some kind of issue with his powers – I told him to talk to you," Percy confides. "He just wanted advice. And Hazel – well, I just assumed she knows Nico and was trying to hide it from me."

"Oh." Annabeth sits up straight – she'd been so consumed by Hazel's overly-polite manner and possible night terrors that she'd forgotten the most obvious connection of all. "I hadn't considered that."

"She definitely knows Nico," Percy says, "and she knows I know, too, but every time I try to get her alone she runs away – I've given up at this point, figured she'll come to me when she's ready." He stretches. "You think that's it?"

"Could be," she allows, unsure of whether to bring up Hazel's weird behaviour during her nightmares. The moment had seemed personal, though – and maybe Annabeth's just being paranoid.

"I don't think they're spies," Percy says confidently. "I mean, a child of the Big Three on the Titans' side? If the Titans found out about her, she'd be dead."

Annabeth nods thoughtfully – that part she agrees with, but it only brings up more questions. Such as how Hazel had survived after turning twelve, and where she'd hidden. She doesn't have the Roman tattoo, so she couldn't have been at Camp Jupiter, and Frank had only found her after the War. It's a huge hole in their story, one she's skirting around out of respect for her privacy, but she can't deny that it's a huge red flag – she'd be stupid to ignore it.

And if there's one thing she's learned since Luke, it's that red flags should not be ignored.

"You're thinking about Luke," Percy pipes up unexpectedly, and this time his nail-on-the-head guess makes her inhale sharply and demand, "How are you doing that?"

"You have a very specific Luke expression," Percy answers, tone somewhere between disappointed and smug. "You get all squinty and you purse your lips and-"

"Okay, I get it." Annabeth schools her expression back into one of normalcy.

"So," he says, trying for casual and missing it by miles, "you wanna talk about it?"

She chances a glance. Percy smiles back at her, all innocent, as if he's asking her something as simple as the weather. Annabeth finds Percy's smiles incredibly annoying, primarily because she has not yet found a defense against them.

"Not really," Annabeth says honestly, but Percy whacks her in the foot and she laughs. "There's nothing to say!"

"Tell me everything," Percy says, with an evil glint in his eye. He isn't even attempting to hide how much he wants to know. "You owe me this, shut up, I told you about Nico and Bianca-"

"Not much-"

"I told you enough, you shameless human, and I know you heard all about my mom so don't even pretend you didn't, and you said, you said you'd tell me about your dad, so you might as well tell me your whole life story-"

"You've been hanging onto this for a while," she marvels.

"You have no idea," Percy groans. "Nobody will tell me about Luke out of respect to you – good job with that, by the way – and now that we're friends, I figured you won't gut me if I ask." He hesitates. "Right?"

Annabeth hesitates, rubbing her hands over her jeans in slow, back-and-forth motions. She doesn't really talk about Luke, even though she can tell her friends want to know. But she hadn't, because Piper had always disapproved of Luke, Jason had merely tolerated him, and Leo had been completely uncaring (sometimes Annabeth thinks that Leo may be the only person in the Bunkers who understands emotions less than she). They'd dropped the topic after Annabeth had refused to comment one too many times. It's too bad for her that Percy is a nosy little cretin who doesn't know to give up.

This is the moment where she deflects and evades, applying one of the many tactics she's perfected over the years, so that she can keep the depressing memories to herself somewhere where they can't be poked at or discussed anymore. But she doesn't want to hide from Percy, not anymore.

"I don't gut my friends," she agrees, and he beams at her. "And I guess I do owe you."

"Yes," Percy enthuses, swivelling around on his butt to look at her full in the face. "I've been waiting for this moment." His face goes blank so fast it's almost comical. "Unless you really don't want to tell me, and I'm forcing you to."

"I was going to tell you at some point," she tells him, shrugging. "Might as well be now, right?"

"Oh, thank the gods."

Annabeth studies the flickering flame of the candle and then glances up at Percy, who looks beautiful and mysterious in its light.

"So…my dad," she begins, in a quiet gust of breath that might has well have been a sigh.

"Yep."

"He's nothing like your mom," she warns, twisting her lips. "He was…cold." It's the only word she can think of to describe him. "When I was born he'd just become a college professor. He didn't have time for a kid, didn't want one. I think he asked my mom to take me back." She scoffs. "Anyway, I kind of had to manage myself. He mostly left me alone, didn't care about me much. He hired a nanny who ended up teaching me how to read and write – she would take me to the local library."

"That's horrible of him," Percy says earnestly. "I'm sorry – if you don't want to remember all this stuff-"

"It's fine," she says offhandedly – the less she thinks about her miserable childhood, the better it'll be. "Anyway…my dad remarried. When I was five? Six, maybe. And his new wife was okay, I guess – but then I started having these nightmares – I started seeing these spiders all over the house, and I knew they were coming to get me." She shakes her head. "My dad didn't see them, of course, because of the Mist. But he and his wife kind of just – ignored the problem after that. They had kids of their own. I got sidelined – but the nightmares just kept getting worse. I couldn't stand the way they would look at me, like I was endangering them, endangering their children." She shrugs. "I ran away."

She looks up to find Percy gazing at her intently, and his eyes are so full of pity that she finds herself having to look away. She doesn't want to cry. She can't cry – she's over this shit. She's released all her anger towards her dad, she's redirected it into years of training that has made her strong. She can't cry for this again. Her father isn't worth her tears.

Remembering something suddenly, Annabeth reaches into the pocket of her hoodie and feels around for the button she'd stitched. She finds it and unclasps it with trembling fingers, extracting the faded gold ring from the hidden pocket and holding it in her palm.

"It's his college ring," she explains, staring at it. It is large and fairly ugly, but it had been important to her father, she knows. "I took it when I left. I don't really know why. Maybe it was just me being petty at the end of the day, but I think there's some comfort in having a piece of him with me." She snorts bitterly. "Pretty pathetic, huh."

"Shit," Percy says finally, and she chokes out a wet-sounding laugh.

"It's okay," she says, attempting to be blasé. "Nobody in that house needed me."

"Your half-brothers?"

"Bobby and Matthew," she remembers, thinking fondly of their tiny bodies swaddled in warm, pastel fabrics. They hadn't hated her – they'd liked her, even, holding only her little finger and gurgling with laughter when she cooed at them.

She misses them, she realizes. She'd liked the kids and now she's gone. They must be in school, now.

She wonders if they remember her. They'd been much too young when she'd left. Possibly they think of her as a fever dream or something.

"I-" she begins against her own will, but then she chokes, and a warm arm circles her shoulders, resting heavily for a second, as if Percy understands what she hadn't meant to say.

"My mom was pregnant," he says quietly, heavily, and she looks at him in surprise. "When she died. She was seeing this guy – Paul Blofis. I called him Blowfish."

"That's such a Poseidon thing to do."

He grins. "He was a good dude. Made my mom laugh. He was a teacher – taught me English. I was due to start at his school in the fall."

"What happened?" she asks, hushed, because she'd heard him cry that night in the cave, but he hadn't gone into the details of it, and she hadn't thought to ask. His mother had died, that was certain. It seemed unnecessary and rude to push him further, even though there is a part of her that wants to bare herself to him, a part of her that wants to know everything there is to know about him, too – and it's not because she wants to figure out the puzzle that is Percy Jackson, not anymore.

She really cares about him.

Percy removes his arm from around her – depriving her of a warmth she hadn't even registered – and places them in his lap. He clenches his fists, then releases them.

"We were supposed to go on this trip," he says gruffly. "To Montauk. There's this cabin by the beach we rented out once a year – it became kind of a tradition for us." He hesitates, then barrels on: "My mom never told me, but I think it's where she met my dad."

Percy is silent for a while. A shadow crosses his face. "That place was special, y'know?"

She nods: she doesn't have a lot of special places, but there's the rooftop on Bunker Six, and the library she used to camp out at as a kid, and – well. Here. Here as in Bunker Nine, but also here as in right here, in this lonely little tunnel in the middle of the mountains, where it's just her and Percy swapping stories.

"It was the last time we'd have gotten to hang out before the wedding," he continues, lost in some sad world of memories. "And my mom – she said she had something important to tell me. I'm sure it was about who my dad really is, but then…but then, right as she was leaving my room –"

"Monsters," she guesses, wincing at the hardness in his face.

"The Minotaur," he confirms, and she gasps. "He killed her – she was trying to protect me." He exhales noisily. "She told me to run. I did, but -"

"But then you'd be dead, too," Annabeth cuts in at once, figuring it out right away. Percy's weighed down by a lot of unnecessary guilt for leaving his mother behind – but thinking objectively, the Minotaur would've killed Percy, too, if he'd stayed, and he needs to understand that. "You were only doing what she wanted, Percy. And – look, obviously I never knew her, but it sounds like she loved you a lot. Enough to die for you, even. If you'd stayed, you would've died too, for sure – and I don't think that what she wanted for you."

Percy blinks rapidly, looking uncertain – not necessarily in his expression, but more in the way his shoulders slouch, the way he drags his hand back through his hair, shifting his hips to sit more comfortably. Annabeth is quiet and she wonders if she'd phrased it too harshly, but then he hangs his head, nodding slowly.

"I think I…needed to hear that," he admits after a long moment. "You're right. It's just hard to swallow."

"You're not going to get anywhere if you keep blaming yourself for things that aren't in your control." Throwing caution to the winds, she adds, "And I'm pretty sure that that's what happened with your friends. Bianca and Nico. You're probably blaming yourself what happened to them, too."

He doesn't respond immediately, but when he does, it's with some amount of hesitation. "Not really."

She tilts her head in a silent gesture for him to go on, and he does.

"More like promises I couldn't keep," he says, face scrunched in pain and shame. "Like I told you, I met Bianca and Nico when they were fleeing from Vegas. I saved them from some empousai – they were alone, weaponless. We decided to travel together."

He runs a hand up and down his calf. "They were good kids. Bianca was older than me, but she didn't have any experience being a demigod, so I felt like I had to protect them. And I did. I went on a raid to get us all weapons, and I taught them how to use them. I didn't know they were children of Hades, then – I just wanted us to get to New Rome in one piece.

"And then one day we were cornered by some monsters. A bunch of cyclopes. One had gotten Nico, and Bianca just – roared. The ground just – opened up and swallowed the monsters, but left Nico behind. She was so scared of her own powers, and that was when I knew." He looks at his own hands. "I don't think she knew what she was doing. She just wanted to keep Nico safe."

Annabeth nods. Percy buries his head in his hands, and she feels her hear quake ever so slightly, at his self-reflection. He doesn't turn around, but Annabeth watches the lines of his next as he goes on talking.

"I told her about the Prophecy that night. Said there might be a good chance of it being her." His voice is muffled, mortified. "She made me promise I'd keep Nico safe, no matter what happened to her."

"Shit," Annabeth whispers, closing her eyes briefly, because she can sense where this is going. It has the same energy as doctors telling the close family of patients that they swear their loved ones will be okay. There's a reason they don't make promises when they put their lives on the line every day.

"Well, Nico heard about the War, and by extension, the Prophecy when we got to New Rome. He asked me to keep Bianca safe, and I told him I would." Percy runs a hand through his hair. "And then – well. Bianca got caught up in fighting Iapetus. I couldn't make it in time. I won the fight, but Bianca died – and I don't think Nico will ever forgive me for it." Percy's eyes flicker dimly, and his lips curve downwards. "He blames me for not telling him about the Prophecy sooner, and he blames me for breaking his promise. He probably hates me, and I don't even blame him. I ruined his life. I took away the only family he had."

"That's why you left New Rome after the War," Annabeth realizes aloud. "You went after him – you were trying to keep your promise to Bianca."

"Nico – he stole a lot of gold. The day before the final battle. I knew it was missing and I knew he'd taken it, but I didn't tell anyone." Percy's voice trembles and he fixes her with a panicked look. "I confronted him, but he vanished – literally vanished through a shadow, taking all the gold with him. And there was very nearly a weapons shortage in our troops that night, and then we lost – Annabeth, I'm the reason New Rome lost that day – if I'd just told Reyna-" He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but little more than wordless sounds came out.

"Hey, hey, calm down." Annabeth places her hand over his. "Look, that night was when Thalia died. I hate to say it, but New Rome would've lost anyway."

"But I'm the reason so many legacies went into battle practically unarmed," Percy insists, a haunted look crossing his face. "I hesitated, and I got good people killed."

"You tried to confront him," Annabeth reasons. "Do you know why he took the gold?"

He shakes his head miserably. "He didn't tell me when I asked, and I never managed to track him after that - I don't think he's been seen for a long time. That's initially why I needed Tyson – to keep an eye out for Nico. But there aren't any monsters looking for him, so I think it's safe to assume the Titans don't know he exists." He drums his fingers against his knee. "That means Hazel's the last person to see him. I just – I just wanna know if he's okay." And he sounds so small and miserable that Annabeth can't help pulling him in for a hug.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I'm so sorry."

"It's all my fault," Percy says brokenly, wiping his tears with the back of his hand – and when they keep pouring down, he presses his face into her shoulder and makes a damp patch on her t-shirt.

"Look, you did everything you did with the best of intentions," Annabeth says quietly. "Just because things didn't really work out – that doesn't make you a bad person."

He sighs, breath tickling her neck. "I just can't help thinking what would've happened if I'd done things differently."

"We'll never know," Annabeth says. "But everything happens for a reason, y'know? If things had happened differently, you wouldn't be here right now."

He pulls back a little and stares at her. He's so close she can see his Adam's apple bob when he swallows. "Everyone keeps saying that. That things were meant to happen this way."

"Because they are," she responds with conviction. "Look, we'll never know what could have been, but we know that everything that's going on, even the both of us talking right now –" she gestures between the two of them – "there were all meant to happen. And they're meant to happen for a reason, so all we have to do is keep fighting."

He laughs, short and sad. "You think?"

"I have to think that way," she admits. "I'd hate for all of us to survive this long if we were just – meant to die…but I can't afford to think that way. These kids in the Bunkers…they're just that. Kids. I need to do whatever I can to give them a good life."

Percy jerks his head to look up at her in askance, and he nods, eyes clouded. "You think Thalia was meant to die, then?"

"I guess," she says reluctantly, even though she senses in her heart of hearts that it's true. "And maybe, along those lines – maybe Luke was meant to leave us."

She looks up to find Percy looking at her with marked intent, all his focus on her, the way he gets when he's fighting, like nothing else matters and nothing could ever take his attention away. It's exhilarating.

She swallows, looking away and trying to calm her heartbeat. She doesn't want Percy to notice her reaction to his mood, at least not until she's had the chance to detangle the emotions herself. She suspects she knows already what it means. She's never felt this pleased to have someone look at her like that, and something inside her is unfurling and making her far too happy given the atmosphere of the topic.

She wants to tell Percy about Luke, she does, but she knows that in the story of her and Luke, she is the biggest loser, and she doesn't want Percy to pity her and hate Luke. She wants to stand tall and proud; she wants Percy to understand what she'd done to get where she is. Percy's approval certainly matters to her, because it comes from a person whose judgement, values and, morals she respects.

Still, though, she worries. She somehow doesn't want Percy to judge Luke too harshly. It's a very conflicting feeling, one that she shouldn't even be experiencing given how much Luke has screwed her over.

Percy's brows furrow. He blinks and gives her a doubtful look, but he seems reluctant to elaborate on the matter further. "You seriously think that?"

"I don't know," she says, laughing a little. "I mean, there's a part of me that's hoping it's all a colossal, godly joke. That maybe he's pretending to join the Titans. But the evidence goes too far back to suggest anything other than him being a traitor."

He studies her closely. "You love him."

The bluntness of it takes her aback. "He was my family, Percy. For years and years. Of course I do." She bites her lip and amends, "Did."

"I know," he says quietly. "I saw the vision, remember?"

"Yeah," she says, a little wistfully. "Those – those days, when it was just the three of us versus the world, those were the happiest days of my life." She meets his puzzled, and slightly judging, gaze. "It was the first time I had anyone that cared about me. And don't get me wrong. I love the Bunkers. I love what we've built, and I love everyone here. But…it's not the same."

"No," he agrees.

"It was bad enough that Thalia was gone, but to deal with Luke, too…" She inhales sharply through her nose. "I was really depressed, Percy. For a long time. So was everyone. But it was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, be strong for everyone and try to keep us together. I thought a million times about running away. I had my bags packed. I had the perfect plan."

Percy's eyes widen, and it must be unconscious, because he quickly schools his expression back into one of careful understanding. She can kind of get his shock. It isn't really like her to declare these feels so publicly – Annabeth hadn't even told Piper about her plans to flee, despite the other girl being her closest friend. She's always found it easy to talk to Piper – who, even though she doesn't quite have Annabeth's battle sense, is close to her in raw intellect and far surpasses her in matters requiring emotional maturity.

She's always suspected Piper had known about her doubts anyway, somehow, in that way Piper does.

Percy hasn't seen Annabeth at her lowest, and he's probably formed his opinions about her based on the outer confidence she's always careful to exude. That's the persona she'd wanted him to see her as before, but now it doesn't feel right to hide the part of her that's only helped her get stronger.

"But I couldn't do it."

"Of course you couldn't," he replies, his voice like smooth and sweet like honey.

She tilts her head upwards, breathing deeply. "Do you know that everything we do today – supply runs, patrols, passing messages to the other Bunkers – I had to figure out the system myself?" She swallows. "I made the decision to have children of Athena, Hermes, Demeter and Hephaestus in every Bunker, so we would have easy access to information about the Labyrinth, communication, food, and weapons. I was the one who suggested monster raids when we began to run out of Bronze. I don't mean to brag -"

"You have every right to-"

"Everyone cooperated, of course, but it was a matter of survival, and it was just suddenly my responsibility to keep everyone alive and together, and I wasn't ready for it." She laughs hollowly. "Sometimes I – I don't know why –"

"Isn't it obvious why you stayed?" Percy says gently. "You care about everyone."

"I do," she whispers. She hugs her knees. "Which is why I don't understand why Luke left. Why he allowed the Titans to poison him. Why he hated his dad. Why he didn't tell me – us – anything. Why he was part of a plan to kill his best friend." She's breathing hard, now, taking ragged gulps of air. "Did I even know him? Did he really care about me at all?"

And, out of nowhere, she begins to cry.

Oddly enough, it's freeing – the tears don't make her weak, they make her feel relieved more than anything, and it feels good to talk about Luke to someone. Everyone else considers him a traitor, now, but they don't know him, they never knew him, they don't know the kind boy who took Annabeth in as one of his own kin. They don't understand how it had broken her heart into tiny shards to know in her gut that he was a traitor. They don't know what it had been like to love him, in whatever simple way she had, with such reckless abandon, only for it to backfire on her – and pretty spectacularly, too.

Percy allows her to sob into her own hands for a while, but slowly, like a stream of warmth, his body covers her like the calmest, most pleasant shield, his arms heavy around her shoulders but not unwelcome. She wonders if this is what he'd gone through, crying about his mother with Grover, and she hiccups into her hands, because here they are, two idiots who have kept their problems bottled up inside them for years and years.

They probably really need therapy.

Slowly her tears subside, and she wipes her face against the edge of his shirt. Percy looks amused at this, but he doesn't say anything.

He looks at her with hooded eyes full of pride and sympathy, and when his fingers grip hers for a moment, it feels like some form of obeisance passes mutually through them – two people, who, now, have nothing left to hide from each other.

"I can't stand the thought of seeing him again," she says in a burst, sniffling.

"We're going to have to," Percy says uncomfortably. "At some point of the other. I can feel it – can't you?"

"I feel it too. I'll have to face him, I know. I just hate it." She coughs to hide another sob, staring up into his face and noting how grim and furious his eyes look. "You probably really want to fight him now, huh?"

"Yes," he says unabashedly. "He hurt you – he betrayed everyone, and that's the lowest anyone can go." She flinches at the hard edge to his tone, and he continues, "And I know I can do it."

And then he stares at her with an unflinching green gaze, so intense she has to suppress a shudder.

"But the question is," he says quietly, doubtfully, "are you?"

/

Long after Annabeth has fallen asleep, her head tucked into the crook of his neck, Percy burns in silence.

He hates Luke with an intensity that's surprising, even for him, because Percy doesn't really hate many people. But something about seeing Annabeth break down makes him angry, the same kind of blinding, overwhelming rage he feels only for the Minotaur.

With all her confidence, it is easy to forget that Annabeth is only nineteen. And it makes him irrationally angry all over again, because it's not fair. They're fucking children. Children with targets on their backs and bloodstains on their clothes. Percy is nineteen and already he knows what agony feels like, he knows what it is like to fear pain and fear and fury, all the ugly emotions that should be locked up in the dark recesses of his mind. He's woken up screaming, screaming so loud that his lungs beg him to stop, and he's grown used to biting his lips to stop it from happening again.

Annabeth falling apart had only confirmed it for him. However much they can try, they have all been broken. None of them are okay, and it's not fair.

He sees it in the way Annabeth's shoulders tighten, in the way Piper's hands twitch whenever there's smoke, in the way Jason keeps his hands close to his pockets, ready to pull out Ivlivs. He sees it in the way Leo trembles when his fire gets too large, in the way Grover lays a hand on the tree trunks, in the way Beckendorf carries a spare flashlight wherever he goes, in the way Silena's eyes go sharp and sad when she thinks nobody's watching.

Percy is no better. He is tired, he knows. He's so tired of running, from having to constantly look over his shoulder, from holding his breath as he waits for the other shoe to drop. He can't put himself through this for much longer.

He traces the scars on his arms and tries to calm the pinpricks of anxiety traveling up his spine, and thinks that he hasn't been a child in a long, long time.

Annabeth sighs a little, and he looks down at her.

Nobody deserves to go through what she has – what any of them have. Percy hasn't had a moment of real peace since before his mom died, and it sucks, because he's only nineteen and he's surrounded by kids in the middle of a bloodbath and sometimes all he wants is to be able to walk away.

Which is why he admires Annabeth all the more for staying in the Bunkers after the War. Percy knows all too well the crushing feeling that had invaded his chest cavity when Reyna had sounded the retreat, but he hadn't stuck around for the aftermath. He can't even comprehend the strength it must have taken to not give into depression at that crucial time that determined the survival of their kind, and according to everyone else Annabeth had risen to the occasion spectacularly.

She's built a system that isn't passive – problems are not met with tears, but with action. It's a shit situation to be in, forced to lie in the shadows and wait for their time, but when it comes they will roar with fervor, their swords gleaming with their ideals. And they will show mercy, too, the way they had done with Chris Rodriguez.

Annabeth could've run. Nobody would've blamed her for needing to get away. And yet she hadn't. She had chosen to put the needs of everyone else above her own and she'd stood her ground and steeled her heart and stayed.

Percy never could've done that. Running would've been the easy option; he knows that with unflinching certainty.

Despite her telling him that the deaths of his mother and Bianca where not his fault, Percy knows they had been at least partially due to him. His mother had died to save him, and Bianca – he shouldn't have let her out of his sight that day. He shouldn't have let the monsters separate them, he should've been quicker to notice she was gone. He should've done something to stop Iapetus' spear from cutting through her like she was made of butter.

She had been kind to him, even in death. Held his hand and told him that it would be okay, that she'd known it would happen. She told him to take care of her little brother, and Percy had cried into her gaping wound, asking her again and again why she was forgiving him for letting her die.

Nico had been much less lenient.

It had hurt to see the smile slide from his face. Nico had been a happy kid, even when they'd been cold and starving in the deepest parts of the wilderness. He'd prattle on and on about his fantasy game Mythomagic, comparing the characters' stats to Percy's, eventually falling asleep halfway through a sentence. And he'd loved Bianca – anyone could see that. And all he'd asked of Percy was to keep her alive.

Percy still remembers the chill that had run through him as Nico's expression crumbled, then hardened into something tougher than iron. And then he'd said, in a monotone, "You promised."

Those were the last words he'd spoken to him: even when Percy had found him with the gold, he'd only shot him a look of the utmost detestation before fading into the shadows like he'd turned into one. Percy hadn't known he'd been able to do that.

To this day he wonders where Nico had gone. He hadn't found a single sign that the son of Hades was alive – Hazel is the first sign he's gotten, but with her avoiding a real conversation with him at every turn, there isn't much to really base his flimsy theory on.

He wonders about the gold Nico had stolen, and he wonders if it had anything to do with Hazel.

Most of all he hopes the kid is doing okay.

Exhaling as softly as he can so as to not wake Annabeth, who is clung to him like an extra appendage, Percy gazes into the forest and tries to calm down.

Deep in his gut he feels that there are bigger forces at play here – forces bigger than he can comprehend. Percy is old enough, now, to know that nothing in their world fits into the black-and-white paradigm he was taught as a kid. Everything is complex, especially when it comes to Annabeth.

There's Nico and Hazel and Frank. There's Jason and Piper and Leo. There's Percy and Annabeth. There's Luke.

He doesn't understand Luke. He doesn't understand why someone would choose to give up all he has – after all, Luke's been lucky enough to meet his father, to have family and friends. Percy doesn't understand why someone in Luke's position would ever work for Kronos and cause so much pain to the very people he'd sworn to protect. For Percy, who values loyalty above all else, what Luke had done is unfathomable, unforgivable.

He can't lie – a part of him had been disappointed in Annabeth when she'd admitted to loving him, even though she hadn't really specified in which way.

But then again, he has never suffered the blow of betrayal, the pain that comes from being stabbed in the back and left in the lurch by someone you thought you'd known better that you knew yourself.

Percy isn't an idiot, despite what everyone might think of him. He'll admit he's naïve when it comes to certain things, and he's been known to handle delicate situations – like the whole thing with Jason making him promise to keep Piper safe - with all the sensitivity of a flying brick, but just because he's inexperienced and largely ignorant about romantic love, it doesn't mean he's stupid. He's more observant than most people give him credit for. He's had to be. Lupa had taught him long ago to watch, listen, and calculate before making his next move.

Annabeth might not have loved Luke in the romantic sense. Maybe she didn't know herself. Percy knows, though – he's seen the Luke that she loves so much, and he can understand why it must be so hard for her to separate the good memories of the old Luke from the rest. But he's also scared for her, because for all her talk of being logical, he can tell that Annabeth is driven largely by emotions. That's what makes her such a great leader, because she can be both clear-headed and sympathetic, and Percy envies her for it.

But Annabeth needs to understand that Luke isn't on her side anymore and would probably not hesitate to kill her, too, and she needs to start letting him go. She needs to stop hoping that he'll come back to her.

He's scared for her, because Annabeth's love for Luke seems more deep-rooted than anything else she feels, and he doesn't want her to die because of it.

At the same time, though, Percy can't help remembering Annabeth's smile from May Castellan's vision. Looking at the genuine and unrestrained happiness on her face in that moment made Percy realise how little Annabeth actually laughed these days. The realization made him sad and gave him a weird urge to try and keep that look on her face as often as he could.

He can't help thinking how twisted it all is, how Luke can simultaneously have the capability to either break her or lift her up.

And Luke must know. He must know how Annabeth feels, and that makes it all the worse.

There is a part of him that wants to kill Luke for breaking Annabeth. There is also a part of him that understands his bitterness.

Percy's never met his father. He's never even gotten a sign from him. He can't help getting angry at Poseidon sometimes for leaving him and his mother alone without any kind of protection. There are times when he's wondered if he's fighting a useless fight, but at Percy's core is this fierce desire to protect and all he's ever wanted to do is keep everyone safe, and he can't do that if he just gives up, can he?

The moon wanes among stars that don't shine as brightly anymore, but he can't sleep, and it is almost dawn when the sound of footsteps rouses him from his stupor – he blinks to find Silena standing there with a soft smile on her face.

"It's my shift now," she says, in a whisper, so as not to wake Annabeth. "You guys can go back."

"Yeah." Percy doesn't know how to move without waking Annabeth, and Silena laughs cutely behind her palms.

"It's good that she's getting sleep," she says quietly, crouching down to sit next to Percy. "She doesn't sleep a ton, most days - she's under so much pressure, I don't know how she does it."

"I wish she would rely on us more," Percy says.

"Me, too," Silena smiles. "But you've got to admit she's great at the job, y'know?" She hesitates for a fraction of a second. "She's a great leader. It's kind of scary how she makes it seem like she doesn't have any weaknesses at all."

"Oh, Annabeth has a weakness," Percy disagrees at once, and if there's a hint of bitterness in his voice – well, there's no way to prove it. "Luke."

/

Leo wakes up with the vague feeling that he'd had a nightmare, but he can't remember it anymore.

He closes his eyes, but all his mind manages to conjure up is a roar of flames and what sounds like the crackle of a storm. It reminds him of what Ella had said about him, or regarding him, or whatever – and it makes him shiver.

The combination of the two – it can't mean anything good. They take him back to the darkest day of his life – the day his mom had died, in that freak storm that had destroyed their house, the storm that had caused the fire that Esperanza Valdez hadn't been able to escape.

To rout the storm the fire must fall, he remembers, frowning. What could it mean? What storm? Would Leo be losing his powers in the near future?

It's three in the morning, and most of the beds are occupied. Next to him, Jason and Piper are cuddled together under the blankets. Jason seems to be having a nightmare, because his mouth is twitching slightly, and his arm is curled protectively over Piper.

It makes Leo smile.

Only a few of his siblings are awake. Nyssa is working on the wristwatch shield that Tyson had helped Leo with. He'd constructed a prototype for it shortly after getting back to the Bunkers, and much to his joy, it had actually worked. He'd set a couple of his siblings onto the task while he worked on the spheres – they've made enough, now, for everyone in Nine, and the watches have been a resounding success so far. Soon, Leo hopes, everyone in all the Bunkers will be able to own one.

Leo grabs a couple of wires from his workbench and hangs about by the hearth for a while, until, bored, he heads off to the main entrance to talk to Travis, who is usually on gate duty in the early hours of the morning.

He slips through the doors – and Hazel squeaks at the sight of him, taking a couple of hurried steps backwards and placing a hand over her heart.

"Oh," he says, dumbfounded. "What are you doing here?"

Leo tries to crack a smile, but her expression of despairing fury doesn't flicker. Finally she stammers, "I…I couldn't sleep. I thought I might as well relieve Travis of his duty, he did seem awfully tired today, and I have nothing to do but wait."

"Wait?" He asks, but then he remembers that Frank is on a raid with Percy and Annabeth, and oh, maybe that's why Hazel hasn't been able to sleep. She and Frank are practically attached at the hip these days – they must be dating, Leo thinks, only he hasn't seen them kiss once. Not that he's watching out for it.

Prolonged exposure to Jason and Piper has made Leo immune to all things romance, because those two are the kind of couple that can walk into a Starbucks and get free drinks for being so sickeningly adorable. They're the kind of couple who could be on the cover of a cheap romance novel, the covers where the hero is bare-chested and the heroine has flowing hair, her hand placed delicately on her lover's rippling, muscular torso, and they are just - staring into each other's' eyes with so much love that it makes you want to die. They're the kind of couple that hold hands and smile at each other and complete each other's sentences. They're the kind of couple that tourists take pictures of, the kind of couple that is so boring just because they're so stable and so bloody perfect for each other that Leo's gotten cavities just from watching them. They give off the vibe that they're going to be together until they're old and grey, walking through a park hand-in-hand and throwing breadcrumbs at the pigeons.

Because really, all anyone really needs to do is watch Piper and Jason for about a minute to understand that they're one of those couples who loved each other since the beginning of time and always would. They're like the background couple in those movies that one of his foster mothers used to watch, the couple that serves as the foil for the main romantic leads, who would cry to them about how much they hate romance. And Piper and Jason would comfort the poor confused souls and snuggle like a pair of cats all the while, and offer advice – awful advice, like how once Piper decided to ask Mitchell to make Leo some 'secret love juice,' but in the end, one couldn't help hoping they would find the love Piper and Jason shared.

Beckendorf and Silena are similar. Silena wanders over to where they're working and props her chin on Beckendorf's shoulder to see what he's doing, and they cuddle at the hearth for hours, refusing to move and whispering quietly as Silena carefully rubs ointment into his burn marks. With Beckendorf so busy, Silena has made it a point to get him his favorite food every time she goes out on a supply run. Beckendorf's favorite drink is this disturbing mixture of Coke, Sprite, Red Bull, and Dr. Pepper – the rest of them all call it Beckendorf's radioactive juice – and it's common knowledge that Silena hates the damn thing. But still she makes it for him in the evenings with a look of disgust on her face, and every time she gives him a bottle of it whenever he makes the grabby hands, Leo ends up having to wait as they gaze at each other sappily like they're the only two people left on the planet.

Plus, they wear matching mismatched socks.

Percy and Annabeth – they're a little weirder. They're very clearly on the way to a relationship if they stay their current path, but they're also the kind to deny that anything's happening at all; in fact, when Hazel had asked them if they were dating, they had both said "No!" so loudly and quickly that it had come out in one voice, and then they'd both screamed jinx and demanded the other buy them a cheeseburger on the next supply run. They're the kind that don't quite know how to deal with their very obvious feelings and instead decide to try to shove their feet in the other's face if one sees the other lying down.

It's all there, the staples of a good relationship. Percy makes Annabeth smile – really smile, the kind only Thalia and Luke used to bring out. Percy makes sure Annabeth's eating regularly (by throwing apples at her face and forcing her to catch them), because she tends to skip meals when she's working, and Annabeth attempts to fix Percy's hair. Leo thinks of Annabeth as a sister and he wants her to be happy, and he's glad she finally seems to be getting over whatever heartbreak Luke had caused.

It's kind of unbelievable that they go to sleep in separate beds at the end of each night, because they have the potential to be the most adorably boring couple ever invented - if only they were dating.

Hazel and Frank, on the other hand, confuse him. They seem very much like a couple, but more than anything Hazel seems afraid to touch him, and Frank acts like her protector. They sleep next to each other, but their beds aren't pushed together the way Beckendorf and Silena's are, and the most he's seen them do is hold hands – under the blanket, no less.

He doesn't know if he's just overanalysing their behaviour because he's got a little bit of a crush on Hazel.

Whatever the case, it's none of his business. Hazel isn't his business – she and Frank have made that pretty clear over the past couple of weeks, anyway. They've fit into the Bunker well enough – after the first few days of Hazel staring at everything with all the wide-eyed wonder of a six-year-old, she'd been found begging Annabeth for patrol duty just so she could explore the Labyrinth a little more. Frank has found a friend in Kayla, their resident daughter of Apollo, and Leo's seen the two of them comparing notes on shooting stances and the like. Everyone seems to like Frank and Hazel: after all, they are guarded but friendly, careful but aware; cautious yet kind. At least, that's how they are with everyone else.

Frank glares at him every time he's close like Leo's going to burn the hair off Hazel's head, and she does everything but scream aloud and run in the opposite direction at the mere sight of him.

Which, shockingly, she isn't doing now. She's avoiding his gaze, sure, but she isn't making a beeline away from him, and it's…nice.

"Um," he says hopefully, but by the way she flinches he can tell that she's still uncomfortable around him. It makes his heart sink.

"I'm gonna go hang out at the cave entrance," he says with false confidence, patting his toolbelt bracingly. "Yell if you need me."

She nods quickly, opening her mouth and then closing it quickly. She nods again.

Leo walks to the cave entrance, pricking his pinkie with a nail and tracing the Eta in the stones. He steps back as the rocks roll away to reveal the forest and ignites a steady flame in the palm of his left hand, sitting down heavily at the foot of the opening.

Absentmindedly he fiddles with a wire with his free hand, studying the little fire and wondering why it is so fearsome to Hazel. He can't help thinking that if only she could get to see how beautiful and helpful fire can be, she would like him better, but he's beginning to accept that she is a lost cause.

Leo's always felt this – intense need to be liked. Ever since his mom died, ever since he'd been put in foster home after home, all he's ever wanted is love – love he'd never gotten from his foster parents. Leo had run from the first family, then, the second, then the third, all because he'd never received the kind of love he wanted. The kind that made him feel safe and warm, the kind his mother had given him, freely and in copious amounts.

He'd been stupid to think he'd get what he wanted back when he was thirteen. Now, at nineteen…well, he's still stupid.

He's long-suspected that deep, deep, very, very deep down, he is a closet romantic - and somewhere in the dark recesses of his heart, he wants to believe that the out-of-the-blue, love-at-first-sight, hit-me-in-the-face romance-novel bullshit could actually happen for him. It had happened to his mother, who had described her time with Hephaestus as "Something from a dream," and Leo wants to witness it for himself.

He wants to be loved. He wants what Piper and Jason have. He remembers how insufferable they had been shortly after they'd first began their relationship – Jason was beaming almost constantly, completely head over heels, and Piper would spend most of her time smiling shyly back at him. They were always making the goo-goo eyes at each other, so often that if was enough to drown Leo's inner romantic, and soon he became tempted to get ordained as a minister and marry the two of them just so they could skip the whole dating process in one swoop. Leo could clearly see where this was going, and he was not looking forward to sitting with them separately as they alternated between gushing about each other's oh, so wonderful qualities and crying about not being good enough.

They had been cute for the first month or so, but quickly Leo had turned their sappy smiles into fodder for endless teasing in the years that followed.

And he had been happy for them, he really had, but he had also felt alone – more alone than he'd felt in a long time, maybe since his mother died. After all, he'd been the first to befriend the both of them, and now they'd gone and gotten together, and soon they'd went from Piper and Jason to Piper-and-Jason, and he couldn't help but feel like the third wheel.

Maybe it had been the cynic in him that hadn't taken Piper and Jason seriously at first. Leo had seen bad relationships before – one of the girls in his foster home showing up from her boyfriend's house with a bruised lip and angry red marks around her wrist. He remembers thinking, why is she still with him? Love can't be real if you get hurt like this – and then he'd gone back to living vicariously through teen romcoms.

He watched men sweep women off their feet in their various romantic roles, and he watched their love blossom on screen, but he knew innately that similar scenes of love and courtship did not happen off the stage. If anything, when the curtain fell, the fantasy fairy-tale love probably fizzled out spectacularly – and Leo began to think of himself as lucky for never having to deal with the fallout from a botched relationship. He swore to himself that he would never embroil himself in something like that, choosing instead to hide behind of persona of overconfidence bordering on arrogance. Choosing instead to use pick-up lines and flirty winks that would guarantee nobody ever taking him seriously. He told himself it was easier that way.

So when Piper and Jason had started dating, Leo had assumed they'd be together for a few months. Maybe even a year. He knew they wouldn't last. And even if they did, even if they got married and had kids, maybe they would have messy divorce and fight for the rest of their lives. And then Leo would step in as the best friend and comfort them and think, Knew it all along.

But beyond his expectations Piper and Jason had turned every roadblock into a new strength. They fought, of course, fights that would make the air go heavy and vibrate just from the tension between them. Piper had cried for three nights straight and run off to Bunker Ten when Jason first told her about Reyna, and Jason had once admitted to being afraid of being unable to live up to her standards as a boyfriend, but through every spat and disagreement they inevitably found their way back to each other.

"Aren't you tired?" Leo had asked Piper privately one day after she and Jason had made up after a particularly cold fight. "I mean, gods. It's like everything rational about you flies right out the window when it comes to Jason."

Piper had laughed. "Well, that's true love, maybe. I think."

Leo remembers a moment between them – a moment so mundane in comparison to everything else in their relationship, but it had been then that Leo had finally understood that maybe, just maybe, the Aphrodite kids were right to defend love with such passion.

Jason had just gotten back from a supply run. He was injured – apparently he'd screwed up on the mission for going back to the store for something – something Jason admitted he hadn't even been able to retrieve.

That night, as Leo was returning from patrol, he chanced upon them huddled together against the wall near their beds. Piper was unfolding a large piece of paper – she began to cry when it was fully opened up. It was a poster of Tristan McLean's new movie that Jason had risked injury to obtain, something everyone else surely would've deemed useless, but to Piper it was a sign that her father was still alive and well, and the gesture had made something sharp poke at Leo's heart.

That was the moment he'd seen something real. He felt a flutter in his belly and an ache in his chest, and the emotion was fleeting, but it reminded him that he'd felt love, real and true, for his mother, and that he'd wanted romance for himself, once, before his mother had been ripped away from him and he'd thrown himself into a life where he refused to get attached for fear that he'd lose them, too. He'd given up on love, he'd given up any chance of anything good ever happening to him altogether, and he'd satisfied any romantic cravings he'd ever had by flirting incessantly, and yet still dumping anyone who showed any interest back like a hot potato and moving on to the next. He'd been terrified of love, terrified of the attachment it brought, terrified of being alone, and he'd forgotten that love could be the biggest strength of all.

Jason and Piper had survived through everything, and they're still going strong. They'd made Leo begin to believe in love again.

He can act like a player and a sleazeball all he wants – hey, Leo's a heartbreaker: you wouldn't think so, but it's always the innocent-looking scrawny ones you have to watch out for – but he knows, now, that deep inside he really wants the kind of love that will make him feel whole.

He'd learned long ago that making the first move usually didn't work out for him (it never worked out for him, if he's being honest). The flirting habit was hard to shake, too, and nobody took him seriously, so Leo decided that he was perfectly content in waiting for something to happen.

Of course, as soon as he came to that particular conclusion, everything went to hell.

Hazel is the first girl he's had any kind of feelings for in a long time. She intrigues him, and she's beautiful, and she can summon magic metals for him to make cool stuff out of. If that doesn't sound like a power couple –

There's the matter of Frank, of course, but Leo's a free man, and he's allowed to hope. Sue him.

And honestly, he would've given up on her a lot sooner if she hadn't shown any interest – but that's the thing. Leo's caught her staring at him a gaze so keen it makes his entire body fill with sparks. She looks away as soon as their gazes meet – but she flushes prettily every time, and that has got to mean something, right?

He sighs. He's getting ahead of himself.

The sky outside flashes, once, so fast he's left wondering if he'd imagined it.

He isn't scared of storms, not exactly, but the thought of one always makes his mouth go dry, because he can't help remembering his mother.

Every time he remembers his mom, he can't help recalling something Percy had said in passing when talking about his own mother during a shared patrol. Something along the lines of the best people having the worst fate – and Leo can't agree more. Esperanza Valdez hadn't deserved to die – and she hadn't deserved to die the way she had, swallowed by flames that only increased in intensity the more he beseeched for them to fall.

He hates the storm for pushing that utility pole into their house. He hates the utility pole for bursting open in a shower of sparks and embers. He hates the embers for latching onto the barrels of oil and grease and kerosene and petroleum lined up in the workshop. He hates the workshop for catching fire, fire that spread quickly in the winds of the oncoming storm. He hates the winds for dissipating the smoke so quickly, ensuring that Leo and his mom wouldn't know about the fire until it had very nearly reached their bedroom.

He hates himself for not being able to control the inferno.

"Go," his mother had told him, pushing him through the door, and her last word had been like the click of a lock.

His world had risen up in flames. Flames that melted the flashlight in his hand, flames that spat at him and unfurled at his feet, flames at ejected heat into his face like a smack, flames that did not hurt him.

His body laced with fear, panic rising in his throat like bile, Leo reached out for his mother but grasped only air. The fire crackled in his ears, taking hold of the debris of his house and dancing about it, even though he can't see it, still blinded from the initial burst of flames in the night, white and hot and searing.

There had been yells afterward. Yells from the houses around theirs, and all Leo could imagine was the wood from their house scattered into the ground and their mechanic's workshop being reduced to nothing more than a mess of black. The subsequent blast had thrown him backward, sending him flying into the tarmac of the road, nearly snapping his neck. The pain knocked him back to reality, and he'd staggered back to his feet, blinking furiously and crying, rubbing at his face to make the white recede, hoping beyond all hope that Esperanza Valdez would pop up from behind something and scoop him up in her arms as she so often did when they played hide-and-seek.

As he took in the chaos around him, trying desperately to control the flames, to make them recede, Leo had vowed to never use fire again.

That had been a long time ag, and he has made peace with himself and his flames. It is a piece of him now, and he has learned to draw life, and warmth, and comfort from it, but -

Sometimes he understands why Hazel hates fire so much. Sometimes he hates it, too.

He thinks he can spot the sun, pale in the early dawn. Fog curls around the trees, and he watches the wisps of his own breath twist and dissipate in the chilly air. He rubs his upper arms, so lost in his thoughts he doesn't notice the sound of soft footsteps coming up from behind him until a voice says timidly, "Can I join you?"

Leo jumps, turning and gawping at Hazel, who looks a little surprised at herself. She's twisting her fingers into the hem of her shirt, and her lips are raised in a nervous smile. In the light, her eyes look like lanterns, the kind he and his mom used to use in their little shop.

"Sure," he says before she can change her mind, scooting to the side. "Here, you can sit on the right, I'll keep my fire in my left hand. If you're uncomfortable, I can shut it off-"

"No, it's fine," she responds, sitting down as far away from him as she can in the space they have. It's the closest she's been since that first night in the Bunkers when she'd held his hand and thanked him for – only the gods know what, really, but Leo isn't complaining.

Now that she's here, though, really here, really next to him, he hasn't the foggiest clue about what to say.

"I can turn off the fire," he says again, stupid, stupid, stupid – "if you're not cool with it. Or I could leave."

"I am – I am cool with it," she says awkwardly. "You needn't worry about me."

"Okay," he replies. "Cool."

"Cool," she responds.

"Cool."

She huffs, and it might be a laugh. "I suppose I don't have to say it again, do I?"

"Guess not," he says, and he feels himself smiling. He can't believe this is happening. He can't believe Hazel is still talking to him. Maybe it's because Frank isn't around to form the Great Wall of China around her before Leo can so much as look in her general direction.

Hazel's eyes come up to meet his again, and the relieved look on her face, wary and vulnerable, hits Leo like a satisfying chord and sends shivers down his spine.

"What is the usual duration for these…monster raids?" Hazel questions. "Percy was not very specific."

"Monster raids aren't too long," Leo says. "They should be back by daylight."

She makes a small noise, pleased, and shoots him a smile over her shoulder that makes him want to hide behind a goddamn mountaain. "That is not very far away."

"Yeah. They should be back soon, unless they run into some complications on the way," Leo says thoughtlessly. Hazel turns to him with stricken eyes and he immediately wants to knock his own teeth out.

"But don't worry," he assures her. "Percy and Annabeth are pretty much pros now."

"Frank can hold his own, too," she says, quietly defensive, and Leo turns away to hide the sneer that emerges, unbidden, onto his face.

"Yeah," he says. "Of course."

"But Frank volunteered mainly to help cart the load back," she continues. She bites her lip, which is something Drew used to do whenever she tried hitting on Jason, but Hazel's gnawing on her bottom lip with such fervor Leo's kinda scared it'll start to bleed. "He said it would be quite a lot."

"Yeah," Leo agrees. "We're going to need a lot more Bronze if we're making armour and weapons for our whole army – raids are really important, because we melt the metals we get and use it to make more stuff."

"That is interesting," she allows. "Are you sure I couldn't summon more for you?"

Leo considers this. "Well, it seems like whatever you bring up is always pure," he says, nodding at the tiny cluster of rubies that have pooled around her feet – she quickly summons a layer of soil to cover it, blushing. "It's easier to just use the metals that have already been extracted and alloyed, saves us time in the long run. Plus it's hugely satisfying to steal from monsters."

"That I can understand," Hazel smiles. "When I was on the run, I always wondered how monsters always seemed to have armor. I had no idea they were stolen from demigods and used to make weapons for the enemy."

The Cyclopes and telekhines have forges of their own," Leo explains. "I'm sure they keep the Titans well-stocked, though maybe the Titans have an endless supply of Bronze now that they run the world. We – well, until you came along, we've been forced to make do with whatever we can."

Her hands tighten at her knees. "You all have…really suffered, because of Kronos."

"Yeah, no shit." He looks at her. "I mean, haven't you?"

She stiffens, then nods slowly. "Yes. Yes, I have."

"Well, there you go." Leo leans back against the wall of the cave and stretches his legs, sighing. "That's why we're still fighting."

"Survival?"

"Yeah, survival, but also revenge," Leo corrects with a wag of his finger. "Kronos ruined all our lives, so now we're going to fuck him up, too." Hazel flinches slightly. "Thalia got the ball rolling last War – now I guess it's on Jason." Suddenly the gravity of the situation hits him – Jason is the Hero of the Prophecy now, and there's a good chance he might die. "Huh. I hadn't…thought of that before."

"My mother always used to say that when you go out for revenge, dig two graves." Hazel looks at him, and something her expression is melancholy and ancient, like she's seen too much. "One for your enemy, and one for yourself."

Something about it makes him shiver. "That's…some deep stuff."

"I guess it is." Hazel seems lost in her own head, so Leo lets her be.

He plays around with the fire, bouncing it from finger to finger. He's careful to keep the flame at a minimum in case it triggers Hazel's fears, but she doesn't even seem to notice him.

He looks at her curiously, hoping he doesn't appear obsessed or anything – he's just a little bit in awe of how cool her expression is. Her, eyes though, sparkle with a hint of anticipation and…something else he can't identify.

Eyes, Leo thinks, with astonishing depth, tell everything you need to know about a person's thoughts and intentions, if you learn to read them.

The color from the mini blaze in his palm paints their skin red, casting a warmth onto his side. Leo gazes forward, watching as the gentle shades of the oncoming dawn turn the silence between them into something light and comfortable.

He is holding back a yawn and promising himself a long nap once the sun has melted the mist again when Hazel makes a small, choking sound.

Leo turns to her. "Hazel?"

She seems fine for a split second, but then her head crashes to the ground and she begins to convulse violently.

Leo scrambles to her side, his flame extinguishing, his brain going off like a bloody siren. He shakes her shoulders, and then, when he realizes he isn't helping, he presses two fingers to her neck, his shoulders sagging in relief when he feels her pulse. The cold in his chest eases somewhat, enough to let him breathe freely, and he begins to scramble in his toolbelt for something metallic – doesn't metal help during a seizure? If this even is a seizure, but what else could it be? Hazel's eyes are rolled up into her head, and she's twitching at random intervals.

"Hazel?" he says frantically. "Hazel? Are you okay? Wake up, wake up-"

With a single, forceful spasm, Hazel falls still. Leo checks her pulse, his own heart racing. He leans his ear against her heart. Her breathing is slowing he doesn't know what to do –

He does the only thing he can think of. He pinches her nose, tilts her head back, and presses his mouth to hers.

A ginormous hand rips him away as their lips make contact. Leo's back hits the wall with a loud thump that has him gasping for breath, and suddenly Frank's face is a centimetre from his own. Leo gasps in pain: Frank's got him in what is probably some ancient Chinese death grip and it fucking hurts.

Frank's teeth are bared, and he's breathing hard. "I'm gone for a night, and you assault her? How dare you-"

It takes Leo embarrassingly long to put together how he and Hazel must've looked in the moment. He tries to hold up his hands, wincing at the sting that runs through him. "Dude, chill! She's totally out of it, I don't know what happened, she just – out of nowhere, she just-"

"Hazel-" In a flash Frank's by her side, grasping her hand and squeezing so tight the veins in his arms pop. "Hazel, shit, come back. You're okay. You're alright. It's me. Frank."

Leo winces as he tries to stand as Percy and Annabeth crash through the foliage, their arms full of Celestial Bronze swords they must've stolen during the raid. A couple of feet away from Leo is a gigantic shield that Frank must've been carrying.

"What's going on?" Percy wheezes, dropping his load to join Frank. "What the hell? Is she okay?"

"Hazel?" Annabeth asks, "oh gods, what happened, Leo?"

"I don't know," Leo says, irritated. Addressing Frank, he says shortly, "She just slipped into this fit – I was trying to give her mouth to before you showed up . Will she be okay?"

Frank nods at him, his eyes narrowed, but Leo glares right back this time. He'd been trying to save her life and he isn't going to apologize. There's no pleasing Frank, it seems like, and so he's going to stop trying.

Hazel finally stirs, and Frank breathes a long sigh of relief. He squeezes her hand and says in a gentle voice, "Hey, Hazel. You back with us? You feeling okay?"

"When am I?" Hazel asks, trying to sit up, her eyes darting around frantically. "When…where am I?"

Leo figures that it would be rude to correct her grammar at a time like this, but Annabeth lets out a tiny gasp, her body tensing like she's been electrocuted.

"It's me," Frank says tenderly. "Frank."

"Frank?" Hazel's eyes clear. "Oh, Frank. You're safe. Thank the gods."

"Me?" Frank chuckles softly and lifts her hand to his lips; it's a gesture so sweet and loving that Leo looks away, his heart burning. Percy shifts subtly to his side and places a hand on his shoulder.

"You're the one who needs to be safe now," Frank continues, picking Hazel up in his arms. "Let's take you back to the bed, okay?"

"Okay," Hazel whispers, resting her head against his chest and closing her eyes.

"Frank," Annabeth says tersely, "Is she-"

"Not now," Frank says, his tone clipped. "She was going to tell you all anyway, but – please. Let her rest."

Annabeth nods, biting her lip. Without another word, Frank walks off towards the gates.

"Annabeth," Percy murmurs, "what-"

She shakes her head. "Not now." And she follows Frank, her eyes stormy.

Percy meets Leo's eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I'll get someone to check my back." It's still smarting from earlier. "What do you think is going on?"

"No clue, man." Percy only shrugs and frowns before picking up his share of the loot and hurrying behind Annabeth, leaving Leo to grab the shield Frank had left behind and trail after him.

/

The day after Hazel had woken the first time, swathed in a thin green blanket and lying in a bed far more comfortable than the one she remembers using at Nine, shortly after her head knocking itself into oblivion and back, Hazel comes to for a second time.

"Frank?" she murmurs, seeing a round, pale face materialize above her, filling her vision. Words fly from his mouth too fast for her to process, and other voices join in that sound annoying in her ears. She reaches an arm up to touch his face, and then blinks, staring at her own outstretched fingers.

She must fall, then, because there's a shout that accompanies a burst of pain in her head. She loses track of what happens next and how it happens exactly, but there are hands that lift her and she's moving jerkily like she's a newborn deer, sprawled on the bed with her knees tingly and red from hitting the floor. Something damp is being gently dabbed on her forehead, and it feels very nice.

Hazel lets her eyes shut, and she drowns in the night again.

When Hazel's eyes open again, she's greeted by the ceiling. She inhales sharply, still extremely disoriented and momentarily unaware of where – and when – she is. For a scary moment, she has no recollection of what had happened until it swoops into her thoughts with the force of a thousand men. Memories and her sense of perception fall back into place, and she closes her eyes again, pressing herself into the bed.

Her heart pounds as she searches for something familiar.

There's a brazier fixed to the wall and she stares at the flame inside it, blinking slowly, dazed at the light flicking around this way and that, again and again, like it has a life of its own. She maps out the colors of the fire, the reds and oranges and yellows and whites, and it finally hits her that she isn't in Asphodel with its grey fields and grey grass and grey sky and grey rain. She's alive again.

The sound of slow, easy chatter filters its way through to her ears, and Hazel recognizes Frank's voice. She strains for him, for his gentle touch, for the feeling of his hands around hers, and she must make some kind of sound, because the attention of the room swings to her at once, and she immediately feels herself warming around the neck.

She pulls the bedsheets upto her chin as Frank, who had been sitting on the ground beside her cot, lifts himself up and turns to kneel at her side. Her face is only a few inches from his. It would be so easy to lean forward, just a bit, and press their lips together – but now's not the time.

"Hey," he says quietly. "How are you feeling?"

"Not very good," she admits. "What-"

He grimaces at nothing in particular, and it's only then that Hazel remembers – talking to Leo whilst waiting for Frank, losing herself in memories and succumbing to a flashback, no doubt terrifying Leo, whose eyes she's too scared even meet. Shame, thick and hot, seems to pass through her like slow-moving lava, and all she wants to do is hide.

"Hazel?" comes another voice, and Percy appears in the corner of her vision, producing a bottle of water. "Do you wanna drink something?"

She nods, still burning with embarrassment. Between Percy and Frank, who help her sit up, she feels like a dwarf – they both stand at least two heads taller and wider than her, and she knows the contrast must make her look as pathetic as she feels.

A quick glance around the room reveals a concerned-looking Piper and a fidgeting Leo; Annabeth looks ready to declare her theories and call it a day – only Percy's arm, placed lightly over Annabeth's shoulder, offers the slightest possibility of a reprieve.

Frank squeezes her hand. His eyes say that he'll follow her lead – he'll defend her if she decides to tell them the truth, and he'll back her up if she decides to lie. Hazel is struck with the oddest urge to cry. She doesn't mind if she's prejudiced against. She's been dealing with it for most of her life. Being treated differently because of her skin is something she'd gotten used to, and Hazel knows, now, how to tune out the murmurs and avoid the stares.

She's been lucky in this new world. The demigods in Bunker Nine come in all shapes and sizes and colors – as one they are being hunted for being sired of the gods, and Hazel's all but forgotten the cursed days of her old life, where she used to be pushed into the dirt and mocked for her hair and skin and clothes. Where her mother was considered an outcast and found it hard to keep them afloat before Hazel's powers began to show. Hazel has spent an eternity in the Underworld hating her mother's weakness and berating her silently for taking Kronos' extended hand, but truth be told, Hazel understands what it is like to be bitter.

If her new friends treat her differently for being different for once being dead – she can stomach it. She will leave if she has to. She just doesn't want Frank to have to give up their new home for her – he will follow her, she's sure, if Hazel decides to go. Frank is everything to her. She can't drag his reputation down with her own.

It is immensely difficult to mask her nerves and the sudden doubling of her heartbeat, but Hazel clenches her fists, taking a breath and lifting her head to meet Annabeth's eyes with every ounce of defiance she has. She has to lie, and she has to do it well if Annabeth's to believe it.

To her surprise, Annabeth doesn't look like she's going to force anything out of Hazel. She surveys Hazel with a solemnity more due at a funeral, inclining her head slightly to the right, her eyes calm and assessing but not necessarily judging. Something in her expression is oddly like Frank's, and Hazel understands the subtle gesture to mean that Annabeth, like Frank, isn't going to expose her. She's guessed Hazel's secret, and they will definitely be having words about it later, but she isn't going to put Hazel in an impossible situation.

She's accepting Hazel, however risky it might be, whatever it means for the demigods in the Bunker, and it's the small smile at plays across her lips as she steps backward, standing down, that spurs Hazel into speaking.

"That was a flashback," she says.

"What does that mean?" Annabeth coaxes softly, her eyes sympathetic. Hazel bites her bottom lip, unsure of how to begin. She looks pleadingly at Frank, who nods and holds her hand.

"It's just us here," he says quietly. "We're in the infirmary – and Annabeth told everyone else not to disturb you."

Hazel sighs, nods, and addresses the room. "There's no easy way to say this." Her voice takes on a pleading note. "And…and I want you guys to know…it doesn't mean I'm the enemy. Just…I-I would be very grateful if you heard me out first." She inhales long and deep.

"Hazel, if this is…uncomfortable for you, you don't need to tell us anything," Piper says kindly, smiling. "We were all just worried about you."

Everyone else nods their assent; Leo looks up from where he'd been twisting several wires over and over with his fingers to send her a smile. He looks wan and tired, but not scared – not scared of her, even though she'd basically enacted a real-life exorcism in front of him, and it's the fact that he looks concerned for her more than anything else that makes her heartened enough to speak again.

"I was brought back," she says bluntly, finding no reason to mince words, "from the dead."

Her announcement begets silence. Piper's eyes go big and round, Jason audibly gasps, and Leo drops his wires. Annabeth only nods like she'd expected it – which she probably had – and Percy…Percy flinches violently and meets her eyes, his expression full of sorrow.

If she'd ever needed confirmation that Percy knew Nico, this would have been more than enough proof.

She lets it sink in for a bit. It is rather shocking news, after all – Frank had needed two whole days to recover. He hadn't talked to her for about six hours, but then he'd peppered her with nonstop questions, asking everything from How did you die to Did you get to eat anything in the Underworld and making her almost feel cool for being formerly dead, which is – it's ridiculous, to say the least.

On an impulse she places her left hand on top of where he's holding her right. Frank looks up, but he smiles, nods, and gestures sarcastically at the rest like he's saying, They aren't taking it as well as I did. Hazel smiles and presses herself closer to him.

Piper clears her throat, which is a relief, because Hazel had been growing restless under the stares. Piper glances at Hazel quickly, then says delicately, "Are you…sure?"

Hazel almost laughs aloud. "Yeah, I am."

"I'm sorry," Piper moans, covering her mouth with her hands. "That was so rude of me – it's just…you look so alive!"

"What did you expect?" Leo rolls her eyes. "She said she was brought back. We know Thanatos defected – he probably bent a lot of the laws."

"I don't know what I expected, okay – maybe a ghost?" Piper winces again. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm saying."

"It's fine," Hazel says, bemused and amused all at once. "I mean, I was a ghost for a long time. It's a pretty valid doubt to have."

"How long were you dead?" Jason cuts in, leaning forward. "I mean. How long were you a ghost?"

"I died in the late 1930s," Hazel says, looking at Percy as she says so. Percy blanches visibly and Annabeth looks at him curiously. "So I was in Asphodel for…seventy years, almost."

"Asphodel," says Annabeth in a measured tone. "So…"

Hazel hangs her head.

She remembers the cave in painstaking detail; the memories of her past life had returned in bits in pieces over the years, and the cave was one of the first to come back to her. She wishes it hadn't. It only reminds her that she doesn't deserve this second chance. She doesn't deserve to be alive, she doesn't deserve to be among these – these honest, good people who really are heroes. She should be dead for what she did.

They may be taking the news of her being resurrected like Jesus pretty well so far, but there is no way they'll forgive her once they find out what she's really done.

Single-handedly she is probably responsible for the situation they're all in today.

Frank presses her hand with this and Hazel snaps out of her stupor, biting her tongue to prevent another flashback. She tries to smile at Annabeth.

"Yes, Asphodel," she says hesitantly. "I didn't…do anything noteworthy in my previous life."

A blatant lie. Hazel's done enough – she's done noteworthy stuff, alright. Only, it isn't of the good variety. It's a wonder she wasn't doomed to the Fields of Punishment.

By the look on Annabeth's face, she can tell it's a lie, too, but she only nods like she understands Hazel doesn't want to talk about this. Hazel meets her eyes and tries to convey Later through just her gaze, but she isn't sure if it works. The rest of them seem to have mastered the art of reading thoughts, apparently – Annabeth, Piper, Jason, and Leo are all scarily in sync with each other, and can understand what another means to say with no words needing to pass between them. Percy manages to get on the same level with Annabeth even though he'd arrived at the Bunkers only a few months before Hazel.

She looks around at the five of them, her heart sinking, suddenly feeling horribly out of place among them. She'd been stupid to think she could ever be a part of a group. They're them and she's just…her. Hazel. Hazel, who is supposed to be dead. She isn't intelligent Annabeth, steady Jason, vivacious Piper, comical Leo, or dynamic Percy. She isn't kind, solid, loving, reliable Frank, who would surely be accepted into their clique if he didn't stick by her side. After all, who would want her as a friend? She's just Dead Hazel.

Too late she realizes her eyes are full of tears, and Frank's arm has shifted to rest on her shoulders. Nearly everyone else has stepped forward in worry. Leo is the closest, and his brows are raised in concern, his eyes lingering on the spot where her hands are pressed into the mattress.

He looks so much like Sammy and it brings up a whole new wave of regret in her.

She sniffles and wipes her eyes with the bedsheet. "Sorry."

"Don't be." Annabeth walks forward and kneels down in front of her, placing a hand on her knees. "I'm sorry for asking that. I didn't mean that you hadn't live a remarkable life - I was just surprised that you didn't make it to Elysium."

Hazel's eyes pool up again. "I don't…I didn't deserve Elysium."

"What?" Annabeth's eyes glint. "Elysium is for the brave. And, well. I haven't known you long, but I know you're brave. Anyone would have to be to have survived so long in a completely different world all by themselves. You've been dealing with the flashbacks, too." She smiles. "And Hazel, you chose to tell us all this…this incredibly intimate truth about yourself. You could've taken the easy route and lied, but you chose to trust us, and I think that's incredibly brave of you."

"The judges of the Underworld aren't doing a good enough job if they put you in Asphodel," Jason agrees, smiling softly at her in a way that makes her chest heat up. "You deserve Elysium more than anyone."

"And don't worry about us," Piper adds, coming up to kneel beside Annabeth. "We won't breathe a word of this to anyone. You can trust us, and…I want you to know that we trust you, too."

Percy swallows and crosses his arms. "You can count on us, Hazel."

Leo seems to be struggling for words. "Hazel…it doesn't matter to me – us – that you had a life before. We don't care about who were back then. We just care about who you are now."

"I…" Hazel chokes on her own words, because there really aren't any to describe how she feels right now. Everyone around her is stood up in a protective circle, gazes hard and resolute, but they don't hate her, she realizes, feeling faint at the thought of it. They don't hate her, they aren't going to abandon her. They're on her side.

She's never had anyone on her side before. She's never really had a side at all.

In fact, she's never been a part of anything before. She's never really had friends. The girls in her old Catholic school were mean and all she'd ever had was Sammy. To have five new friends – it makes her giddy.

A squeeze around her shoulders alerts her to Frank, who is smiling at her softly. Hazel hasn't told him about how badly she was bullied, and she certainly hasn't told him about Sammy, but something about the joy in his eyes makes her wonder if he'd guessed, anyway, that her childhood had been rather dismal.

She looks at him, and then turns to the rest of them, her gaze finally resting on Leo.

"Thank you," she says honestly, her eyes stinging. "I can't tell you how much your kind words mean to me."

Annabeth huffs out a small laugh at this. "You know, I kind of noticed you speak a little more formally than the rest of us."

"Is that what tipped you off?" Frank asks.

"One of the things," she admits.

Piper nods. "There's a lot that's making sense now that I know. Nothing bad," she assures Hazel quickly, "it just helps now that I know where you're coming from."

Hazel nods, unsure of how to respond. Her throat is all scratchy, which is a sure sign of incoming tears.

After a few beats of silence, Annabeth claps her hands together. "Okay, maybe we should give Hazel some space."

Jason nods. "Yeah. Sorry for bothering you like this. We just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Hazel nods, her throat choked. Is this what having friends is like?

One by one, everyone filters out of the room, acting no different than usual. Piper stops to give her a hug and kiss on the cheek that makes her blush; the other girl laughs when she notices.

"This all makes so much more sense," she repeats, grinning, dragging Jason behind her.

Leo stops in front of her and clears his throat.

"I'm glad you're okay," he says awkwardly. "I…you really freaked me out back there."

"Oh," Hazel says uncertainly. She can't imagine what it must have been like for Leo to deal with her – it took Frank a long time to learn how to coax her out of a flashback. "I'm sorry."

"No, not that you were freaky," Leo assures her at once, waving his hands frantically. "I mean, you were, a little-" His voice dies down a little when Frank glares at him. "I mean. I'm glad it was nothing. Well. Not nothing. But I'm glad you're okay."

"Thank you for being there," she says, and Frank's hand stiffens. "I'm sorry for causing you this trouble."

Leo's eyes quickly dart to Frank. "Um, I didn't do anything. It was all Frank."

Hazel turns to look at Frank; he drops his gaze, flushed in the cheeks. Leo quickly excuses himself.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I don't remember much – I thought I saw –"

"It was me," Frank says, clearly hurt and trying to hide it. Hazel wants to hit herself. "You thought it was Leo who helped you?"

"No, no," Hazel says quickly, "it's just…I was talking to him before the flashback, so I assumed-"

"Oh," says Frank, relaxing. "Well. Okay, then."

Suddenly she feels the need to change the subject. "Everyone seemed to take it pretty well."

"Yeah," he agrees. "They're good people."

"Good friends," Hazel says, and she smiles a little at how does it sounds.

Frank smiles, too. "Do you want to sleep some more? I can give you some time alone."

She squeezes his hand. "Could you stay?"

"If it's okay with you, of course."

"I'd like you to stay," she amends, and she can see how pleased he is by her response.

Hazel settles back into the bed and Frank grabs the chair Piper had been sitting on before. He turns it a little so he's facing her and reaches out to grab her hand, and Hazel revels in the feeling of his fingers winding through hers, so tightly that it makes her feel like they're one person.

"I'm so glad you're okay," he breathes, and he sounds so soft and tender and she wants to kiss him so, so badly.

It's too bad she's still harbouring a fair amount of guilt for lying to him. Because she had seen someone in her flashback, someone she hasn't seen in a flashback since being reborn, someone she hasn't been able to stop thinking about for a long, long time. And hadn't been Frank she'd seen. It hadn't even been Leo.

It was Sammy.

/

It sucks that it's come to this, but Percy's grown to enjoy doing the laundry.

He kind of likes using his powers for something as mundane as washing the clothes. It's easy work, so he's free to let his mind wander, and now that the novelty of watching him do it has worn off, Percy usually finds himself alone.

It's late afternoon, with the sun beating down on him with enough intensity to make him sweat, even though he's barely doing anything at all.

He senses, and then separates the soap from the water and lets it splash into the bucket at his feet. He rises the clothes in the clean water for a bit without really thinking about what he's doing, at least until a voice calls his name.

He turns, expecting Annabeth, so it's a surprise when he sees Hazel waving at him shyly from the tunnel entrance.

"Hey," he calls, watching her make her way to him across the green. She looks better than she has all week; her smile looks genuine and the bags under her eyes have faded to some degree. Percy separates the water from the clothes, which fall to the ground in a heap, and directs the water into the freshly-tilled crops.

Hazel watches the drops rain down onto the soil and turns to him with glittering eyes. Wordlessly she sits down in front of the pile of clothes and begins to fold, and after a brief second of hesitation, Percy sits down next to her and begins to sift through the mess.

He can't say he hadn't been expecting this. Ever since admitting to them about her past, Hazel's seemed lighter than ever – she smiles more readily and walks with a newfound confidence. Percy supposes letting go of a carefully-guarded secret after so long will do that to you.

He's happy for her. He's happy she'd decided to confide in them, but there's a lot that she'd left unanswered, and he has a feeling he knows what some of the answers are.

"Oh," says Hazel, holding up a bra by the clasp. She drops it quickly. "Should I…"

"Don't worry about it," he tells her, amused. "We leave the underwear in its own pile for people to claim."

"How does one know what is theirs?" she asks, horrified, fanning herself with her left hand.

"They're labelled with super-permanent marker that the children of Hecate made, see?" Percy grabs a random pair of boxers and shows her the name scrawled inside. "These are Leo's."

That only makes her more flustered. "Percy, it's rude to look at other people's undergarments!"

"It's not like I'm using them," he protests, laughing.

"Still!"

It's quiet for a while as they fold more clothes. Hazel is better at it than he is; her hands work in crisp motions and soon there's a neat stack of clothes growing in height next to her.

"So," he says, eyes on the green t-shirt in his hands that is labelled Jake.

"So," she repeats.

"You're gonna make me say it, aren't you?" Percy places the shirt on top of his load.

She huffs out a laugh, covering her mouth with a hand. "Well, since you're too nervous, I'll bite." She places a black t-shirt that Percy recognises as Annabeth's on top of her pile and folds her hands neatly in her lap. "So. Nico."

Hearing someone else say his name comes almost as a relief, but maybe it's because it's Hazel who's saying it that Percy feels his belly settle into something like calmness. It's Hazel, after all. Hazel, Nico's half-sibling, who definitely had met him. Hazel, who is from another time, just like Nico.

"Nico," he sighs, abandoning the pair of shorts he'd been folding. "You know him."

"And so do you." She smiles a little ruefully. "Does anyone else?"

"Annabeth and Grover," he admits. "But nobody else. He clearly didn't want me to find him, and…I mean, it would only be more dangerous if word got out about a son of Hades, y'know?" He looks at her pointedly. "Or a daughter of Pluto."

She shrugs. "I understand. I've told Frank about him, but that's it."

"How did you two…meet?"

"He brought me back," Hazel says, her expression clearing. "But you knew that."

Percy had guessed it – he'd guessed it the moment she'd said she'd been resurrected, in fact, but listening to her say it aloud still shocks him, and he takes a deep breath to calm himself.

She tilts her head at him. "Are you okay?"

He nods. "Yeah. It's just –" Hard. Hard to imagine the happy-go-lucky boy as someone who can pass through shadow and bring the dead to life. It makes him seem eerie, when all he had known Nico as was a little kid who had thrown himself into their world of gods and monsters with a kind of annoying cheer. All he'd ever wanted to do was shield him from the darkness of it all.

Hazel nods, looking down at her shoes. "You haven't seen him in a long time, have you?"

"No," Percy exhales. "I never found him – I haven't seen him in years, not since the War."

"I met him five years ago," Hazel says. "I was around thirteen when I – you know – died. I guess that would make me eighteen now."

"Man, imagine if you still aged in the Underworld and you had to go through puberty," Percy says, momentarily going off-track. "Or, even better, imagine if you'd gotten to skip puberty altogether. That would be great. Being a teenager is shit, you've got a big dude's voice in a kid's body, your face is a minefield – this is exclusively for males," he explains, in response to the confused eyebrows she raises at him. "But you were saying? About Nico?"

Her eyes go a little dim. "I got the feeling he – we were running from something, the entire time we were together."

"Where is he now?" Percy asks, leaning forward.

She gazes at him sadly. "The Underworld. And he expressly said you wouldn't be able to follow – that's the only time he ever said your name." She pauses for a second before continuing, "That's how I knew you knew him."

Percy stabs his jeans with a blade of grass, feeling his face twist into a scowl despite all efforts to remain stoic. "I did. Know him."

"Did you know Bianca as well?"

He snaps his head up to stare at her. "He talked about her?"

"Not intentionally," she says, guilty. "I heard him talking about her in his sleep and put it together."

Something occurs to Percy, then, something that should've occurred to him before. "Nico brought you back."

"He did," Hazel agrees.

"But did he mean to?"

She doesn't meet his eyes. "He never said it, but we both knew I wasn't the sister he wanted back."

"Gods." Percy runs a hand through his hair. "How'd he learn to do that?" There's no way he could've learned anything while with Percy. When Percy had discovered Nico and Bianca's heritage, he'd taught Bianca what he could about controlling her powers – Bianca had been good at getting the earth to swallow up monsters, but not much else. As for Nico, Percy had merely instructed him on the basics of sword fighting should he ever find himself without Percy or Bianca to protect him. He shouldn't know how to bring back the dead. It doesn't make sense. Nothing about what he'd thought he'd known about the kid makes sense anymore.

"Bringing someone back from the Underworld is deep, dark, complex magic," Hazel says thoughtfully, and there's something odd in her demeanour that only brings up more questions, but he holds his tongue. "There's a reason it was never allowed during the gods' reign – but maybe, as Leo said before, things are different with Thanatos in charge. It isn't easy – and you need a sacrifice, too."

"Sacrifice?" Percy asks, a chill running up his spine.

"When you receive something from the earth, you have to give something in return," Hazel explains. "It's the most basic law." She plucks a glittering ruby from the soil with no hesitation. "That's why I don't touch these. Keeping something from Pluto's realm with ill intentions never bodes well for anyone, and if you do take something, you have to reciprocate somehow."

"So, if I took one of those," Percy begins, nodding at the gemstone in her hand, "meaning to sell it and get some cash, what would happen?"

She shakes her head. "You would be cursed. Not fatally, probably, but nothing good would ever come to you."

He nods slowly, taking it in. "So what did you do? When you brought up the Bronze for Leo's spheres, what did you give?"

"My word," Hazel says simply. "That one day it would return to Pluto again."

"And that's enough?"

"I think so," she says, smiling a little. "It's something Ella told me, too. A prophecy of sorts? That everything that comes from the earth will return to it again. In my case, I can make requests. I mean, I am his daughter."

"So could you bring back the dead, too?" Percy speculates, but she's already shaking her head, dejected.

"Bringing back the dead is different," she says. "It's more or less a life for a life – I don't know how I- Nico did it without killing himself in the process."

Percy can't imagine it. He can't imagine Nico killing someone else, even if just to bring Bianca back. "But maybe, since he's the son of Hades, there's less of a price to pay."

"I…don't think so," Hazel says doubtfully. "But even if that were the case, he'd still need a sacrifice – a pretty extravagant one, at that."

"And you have no idea what it is?" Percy asks.

"No," Hazel replies, frowning. "We never really talked about it, since we both knew it was a mistake, and that would open up a whole new can of worms that neither of us wanted to delve into."

"Where would he get a sacrifice that big from?" Percy wonders aloud, but then his stomach drops as he remembers their final moments together.

"Hazel," he says, in a measured voice, "would…would a lot of gold work?"

"How much?" she asks.

"Tons." Percy thinks back. Nico'd had enough gold to start his own Midas-imitation exhibition. "He…stole it from New Rome before he left. I couldn't stop him, and I never found out what the gold was for."

She bites her lip. "I'm not sure, but it makes sense. He never had any gold around me. He never seemed to have the same talents as me with respect to metals, and I don't see him stealing for fun…or for revenge, for that matter."

"That would explain a lot," Percy agrees, drumming his fingers against his knee, feeling a little gratified to have one question answered, at the very least. "Gods, I feel like the most selfish bastard on the planet – oh, oops, sorry –" for Hazel had winced at the curse – "but I'm just glad he's alive. Bianca wouldn't have wanted him to die for her."

"Bianca," Hazel says, in a strange little voice.

Percy smiles. "Bianca was cool. Quiet, but strong." He studies her face. "You guys are kind of alike, actually."

"What was she like?" Hazel asks in a small voice. "What was Nico like when he was with you?"

Percy hesitates for a split second when it hits him that the Nico that had brought Hazel from the Underworld is vastly different from the Nico he'd known. Percy can imagine the poor kid having to swallow his own disappointment at his mistake while simultaneously having to take care of his new sister – the wrong sister. He couldn't have been too pleasant to be around, and going by Hazel's own confusion at their situation, he hadn't told her much, either.

Percy can't blame Nico for it – any of it. But he can try to help Hazel.

"He asked if I knew to surf," he divulges, and delights in the short, surprised burst of giggles that erupts from Hazel. "Seriously, that was the first question he asked me."

"What was the second?" Hazel asks, grinning so wide he can see all her teeth.

"If I knew to play Mythomagic," he admits, and she laughs again.

'What on earth is that?"

"Oh, man," he says, leaning back and trying to recall the many, many nights Nico had spent trying to explain the game to Percy. "Get ready, because it's a lot."

Hazel smiles, a little sad and a little hopeful.

"I'm ready," she says, in a startling impression of Leo. "Hit me."

/

Leo wakes up the sound of a hand slamming on his workbench.

He shoots up like prey, still half-existing in the forest where he'd been chasing the Dragon. The sharpness of his movement has popped something in his spine, and Leo howls, clutching clumsily at his back, looking up to find Piper standing over him wearing an expression of harsh concern.

"Go to sleep," she says.

"Wasn't awake," he says groggily, jerking upright and blinking the sleep out of his eyes. "I mean. Wasn't asleep. Fuck."

"You were most definitely asleep, good sir," Piper says in a British accent, tweaking his ear. "Some might say you were knocked out."

"I was merely getting a bit of shut-eye, m'lady," Leo responds in his best imitation of – well, anyone from the Harry Potter movies. He yawns, dropping the accent. "Fuck, why couldn't you have just woken me up like a normal person?"

"That's no fun." Piper places her hands on her hips. "And why couldn't you have just slept like a normal person? You know, in a bed?"

He makes a face at her, scrubbing a hand into his eyes. "Not sleepy." More like he can't afford to be sleepy. Between spending endless on working on the spheres and brainstorming new tech for weapons, Leo is wiped out. And Piper, despite her endless whinging about all the supply runs she's had to go on, is clearly getting enough sleep to be irritating him about his poor lifestyle well into the night.

"Wow, ease up there, Sleeping Beauty." Her voice takes on a softer note. "Seriously, Leo, I think the last time I saw you sleep was, like, a week ago. That can't be healthy."

"You don't yell at Annabeth when she gets into one of her moods," Leo grumbles, rubbing his temples. "Leave me alone, you harpy."

"Annabeth's asleep," Piper says, nodding over to the beds, and Leo glances over his shoulder at the Map Wall to find that it is indeed empty, which means Piper must be telling the truth, because Leo distinctly remembers catching a glimpse of Annabeth's face buried in a scroll before turning back to his own work.

"Wow, how'd you manage that?" Leo asks, impressed, because when Annabeth sets her mind on something, not even sleep can distract her. She's been known to go days without a break.

"Percy did," Piper says with an air of satisfaction. "Finally someone who cares about a decent sleep schedule around here."

Leo hums in agreement, deciding not to mention all the nights Percy's woken up and given Leo company at the forges – he really owes Leo one, now, for keeping his reputation intact. "Good for him, then."

"Good for Annabeth for getting some sleep, you mean," Piper corrects. "And good for you, too, for listening to my stellar advice and sleeping for eight hours straight, which doctors around the country will applaud you for."

"I'm not sleepy," Leo insists honestly, because he really isn't anymore. He likes to be awake when Beckendorf wakes up, because Beckendorf is a six-foot-tall beefcake baby who hates getting ready early in the morning, and watching him potter around the forges, bumping into tables as he blinks the sleep from his eyes is currently Leo's only source of entertainment.

"And why are you awake, anyway?" he accuses Piper mildly. "Couldn't sleep without Jason cuddling you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear?"

"Fuck the shut up," Piper says breezily, and Leo huffs out a laugh. It's kind of an inside joke between the two of them from ages ago, back when Piper was still attempting to woo Jason without being too obvious about it. Leo had teased her non stop about her crush, saying something about how she couldn't even manage to string a coherent sentence around Jason, and Piper had responded vehemently with a tirade of Of course I can, just because you can't flirt with a girl without sounding like a douchebag white boy, so why don't you – only Jason had passed by at that exact moment and smiled at Piper, effectively cutting off her rant, and when she'd finally pulled herself together enough to continue, she'd completed the sentence with Fuck the shut up instead of Shut the fuck up, and Leo had laughed so hard he'd given himself a stitch in the side.

"So?" he prompts. "Jason's only on a supply run, he'll be back soon."

She shrugs, suddenly sheepish. "I dunno. I had a nightmare. Couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd come and pester you instead."

"So you couldn't sleep, either?" Leo nods sagely. "You know, there's a saying…something about the pot calling the kettle black…"

"Choke," says Piper promptly, grabbing a stool from Beckendorf's bench and settling next to him.

"You wanna tell me about your nightmare?" he offers.

She frowns at her own hands. "It's the same one every time. Me running through the fog, chasing Krios. When I look into the knife, though, I somehow turn into Jason, which is so weird – some magical item I got," she sneers, glancing down at the dagger sheathed to her belt.

"Krios?" Leo abandons his parchment. "Damn, Pipes, that's deep stuff. You sure you don't want to take a swig of some sleep potion?"

"How will that help?" Piper says moodily, swinging her legs beneath her. "Dreams always come true; preventing them won't stop the future."

A chill runs through him. "You really think that's the future? What about your knife?"

Piper removes Katoptris from her belt and gazes intently into the blade. "I don't know. Near as I can figure – I mean, since Hermes left it for May to help with her visions – I think the knife shows an alternate future, or maybe the consequences…I dunno. Katoptris can't be showing me the real truth, considering the fact that its last owner was May, and it was meant to calm her down. I think it shows you a less severe version. Maybe."

"So in an alternate future, Jason fights Krios again?" Leo's already shaking his head. "Last time-"

"I know," she says heavily. "That's why it has to be me."

Leo scoots his stool closer to hers so he can bump her shoulder. "Any chance it can be neither of you?"

"That would be ideal, wouldn't it," Piper says longingly. "But…I dunno. Based off my dreams, I think that this is my fight, you know?"

"Piper-"

"Look, don't go worrying about me," she says, rolling her eyes in a poor display of self-assurance. "I can handle myself. Plus I feel like this is a second chance, somehow, because I failed last time – and don't give me that look, don't say I didn't fail, because I know I did."

Leo holds up his hands in surrender. "I'm worrying about you only because you're my best friend, not because I'm worried about you. You're the toughest girl I know," he elaborates, and Piper smiles, mollified.

"If the Wilderness School was our origin story-"

"Discovering ourselves arc," Leo corrects.

"-This would be my redemption arc," Piper continues, sounding almost pitifully hopeful. "Even if Jason doesn't think so."

"You told him?" Leo sighs, tilting his head backward. "That would explain why he's been acting so…weird lately."

He's half-hoping Piper disputes the statement, but she only sighs and breathes out, "So you've noticed, too?"

Leo nods, biting his lip. "He's been…being shut-off around me. Around everyone, if I'm being honest. Not always, more like he forgets to do it sometimes and then needs to close himself off again. At first I thought he was freaking out about the Prophecy, but if you told him you intend to fight Krios –"

"Yeah, it started when I told him about my dreams and the vision in Katoptris," Piper confirms, rubbing her fingers into her forehead. "I mean, I knew he wouldn't take it well, but -"

"Look, he thinks there's a good chance he's going to lose the love of his life," Leo reasons, ignoring the way Piper rolls her eyes. "That's why he's trying to distance himself emotionally from us, so he won't feel as much pain when the times comes and he has to trust you to win."

Piper blinks at him. "Oh my gods, why does that actually make sense?" She checks his forehead. "Do you have a fever? The flu? Maybe a brain tumor?"

"Get off me." Leo pries her hand away. "And shut up, I've always been this wise."

"Annabeth is cringing in her sleep right now."

"I'm so wise," Leo protests. "Wise enough to tell you that you've got to convince him you're going to be alive at the end of this – that's the only way he'll feel better."

"I've been trying," Piper moans. "But it's hard to get through to him when he's like this. It's like when he first got to the Bunkers, remember?"

"Gods, he was so Roman," Leo laughs.

Piper kicks him. "He wasn't that bad."

"You were just too in love with him to notice it," he snorts. "Why do you think I got along with him so well in the beginning? He was basically an automaton."

Piper laughs at that, her real laugh that sounds like a witch's cackle. "You're the worst."

"But you feel better," he says, elbowing her.

"I do," she admits, pressing her face into his shoulder to hide a smile. "Which is why I feel obliged to return the favour."

"Are you finally going to teach me French?" Leo asks excitedly.

"What? No!" Piper shoots him a dirty look. "I tried, remember? All you said was Oui Oui baguette Eiffel Tower."

"I'm a natural," Leo grins.

"You are a mess," Piper says strongly. "But anyway, I thought I'd be kind enough to give you some love advice, since you helped me out today." She claps the ways the popular girls in movies do, short and cutely.

"Love advice?" says Leo blankly, even though his heart has begun to race. "I don't need any."

Piper fixes him in place with a look of the utmost pity. "Oh, Leo, I've seen the way you look at Hazel."

"I do not look at Hazel," Leo denies at once, picking up Archimedes' scroll again and boring a hole through the parchment with just his eyes. "And she has a boyfriend. I mean, good thing for him, because who can resist these?" He pats his arms.

"Leo," she says softly. He wonders if she's going to comfort him, but then she just says, "I've seen corpses with more muscle on them."

"I'm telling the truth about Hazel, anyway," he says.

"You're blushing." Piper notes. "Hm."

"There is no hm. Hazel doesn't like me." He realizes his mistake when Piper just – blinks at him, a slow grin uncurling on her face.

"And - and I don't like her!" he adds hastily.

"Yeah, you probably should have said that first."

"Plus, I'd be an idiot to make a move," Leo says, giving up all pretence and leaning his head onto the desk. "She can't stand me, okay, so go away and let me die of embarrassment in peace."

"She doesn't hate you," Piper says, sounding shocked, grabbing his face with her hands and squishing. "How could anyone hate you?"

"You thought I was annoying when you first met me," Leo points out sullenly, trying to look away as best he can with her hands curved possessively around the side of his face.

"Only for the first two months!" Piper rolls her eyes before grumbling under her breath, "I knew I shouldn't have told you that."

"I can't wait two months," Leo grunts. "Her hatred will only have increased, she'll probably move to another Bunker to avoid breathing the same air as me."

"You and Annabeth are one and the same," she said, marvelling. "You both act all emotionless and logical, but deep down you're the most dramatic bitches to ever grace the halls of the Bunkers. You both should seriously consider a career on the stage."

"I hate you," says Leo fervently. "What kind of bullshit advice-"

"She doesn't hate you, Leo," she says, exasperated. "You said yourself that she talked to you a little before the – flashback thingy."

"Yeah, and she hasn't looked at me since," he complains. "And meanwhile, her boyfriend hates me just for existing. If looks could kill, I'd be dead fifty times over."

"Frank isn't her boyfriend," Piper says knowingly, and Leo's back straightens of its own accord.

"What? But-"

Frank not her boyfriend? It doesn't really make sense – Hazel looks at him like the sun shines out of his asshole and he's always, always staring at her with this – besotted expression on his face. Leo had told himself to back off long ago, and sure, he'd been disappointed, but –

Not her boyfriend?

They can't be just friends – and even if, by some massive stroke of luck, they are, Frank looks keen enough to audition for the boyfriend job.

"I know. But she's never referred to him as such, and when I asked her she started stuttering so hard she sounded like a tractor with engine failure. But see - my dad works in the film industry," Piper nods sagely. "I've seen him in romcoms and action thrillers and I think know how to spot when people are being real about their feelings. And I haven't seen anything from them that suggests they're a couple, so either they're hiding it really well, or maybe he's just protective." She shrugs. "But he does like her, though. You've got competition."

"It isn't a competition when I've already lost," Leo says.

He brightens. He taps his temple meaningfully, hoping to recreate the meme, his mouth curling in a grin that doesn't even crumple when Piper's scowl doesn't waver.

"Can't lose a race when you decide not to participate," he says. "Geddit? Geddit?"

Piper punches his shoulder. "Be serious for a damn second. Leo, you're a catch. Anyone would be lucky to date you."

"You're right," he says sarcastically. "I'm sure the queue of girls lining up for me all agree with you one hundred percent."

Piper pinches him roughly in the nose, and Leo squeaks nasally. "Look, just because it hasn't happened yet doesn't mean you're unlovable. And everyone here loves you just fine." She releases him. "And one day you'll realize that that's more than enough, even if you aren't dating someone."

Leo pauses in the act of massaging his nose. This particular insecurity of his is one he's examined and re-examined a million times, and he really should be used to the feeling, but when he tries to reply, he finds that no words are managing to squeeze past the tight, aching block of his heart clogging his throat.

Piper squeezes his arm fiercely. "You're so incredible, Leo. Even if you're going to be the death of me."

He supposes that's likely to be true, but he's also pretty sure he'll be the death of himself first.

"Please don't tell anyone," he pleads.

"Uh huh," says Piper in the same kind of tone that means she's about to tell Jason at the first opportunity. Leo groans, but he supposes it had been inevitable.

"I'm still not going to say anything to her," he says bluntly. "That's basically a death wish."

Piper sighs. "Look, the worst you could do is try to get to know her. Hazel's a sweetheart." She looks away, towards the beds. "You know, now that she told us about her dying before – a lot of things add up about her. Like she asked me if I could guard the entrance to the baths so she could bathe alone. I assumed she had an embarrassing scar – but I think she's just been brought up tat way, y'know? Super conservative."

Leo nods. It had taken a while for it to really sink in, and now he can't believe he'd been stupid enough to believe otherwise (even when she'd been in recovery from her flashback, Leo had still been wondering if he'd overreacted; maybe she'd just been feeling under the weather).

Thank the gods she seems to be getting better now. She appears more well-rested, less wan, and while still unnervingly quiet around him, some of her usual cheer seems to have returned.

"She doesn't use a lot of slang," Leo adds. "She doesn't know any of the TV shows from now, and she does that fanning thing with her hands." He mimics the motion.

Too late he realizes how stupid and pathetic he must've appeared, because Piper grins smugly.

"Look, if it doesn't work out, it doesn't. But –" she shrugs – "at least you'll know you tried."

Leo sighs. "I'll think about it."

"That's the spirit." Piper throws an arm around his shoulders. "Also, on a totally unrelated note, when I was in Ten Mitchell told me about this cool new spell they found." She grins wickedly. "And it's reaaaaally fun, you'd love it."

"Why?" he replies. "Is it because I'm a fun person and I deserve fun spells?"

"Yes, she nods enthusiastically, "and because it's a love spell."

"No," he says at once.

"Why not?"

"Because the last time you found a love spell, it was the secret love juice!" Leo stumbles over his words in his rush to get them out. "And you wanted to use it on me! If I hadn't decided to test it out –

"You mean if I hadn't been kind enough to let Jason be your guinea pig –"

"Against his will, Piper – he wouldn't have consented if he'd known he was going to fall in love with a tree for a whole day. And it wasn't funny, anyway." He figures he might have almost come off as sober, but then he remembers Jason hugging the tree and nuzzling its bark and a giggle bursts forth. "Okay, it was fuckin' hilarious. But it wasn't funny the morning after." He glares at her. "You weren't the one whose underwear was hanging from the roof."

"Oh, classic." Piper wipes a tear from her eye. "Man, we're the best therapists for each other. We should start charging."

"I'll give you tacos if you teach me French," Leo offers.

"Deal." She stretches, yawning. "So how goes the sphere-construction?"

"Slow." Leo gestures to one of the scrolls, pausing to flex his right hand. He studies the document with tiredness in the light of the candle. Most of the symbols are worn, disappearing, the formulae far too complex for his brain. He turns to his own notes, relieved to find that he hasn't made any errors this time: a few days ago, he'd misread a couple of runic symbols and had realized his error only when Beckendorf alerted him.

"But we're making progress. It's just…I can't just wing it, y'know? I have to really be careful with the measurements, the whole purification process…everything. But we're close. Once we're done with the hardware, all we've got to do is get Maya to power it up with magic." He exhales. "I just keep reminding myself that if this works, it'll be huge for us."

Piper hums thoughtfully. "I wish I could help."

"You're helping me right now," Leo admits in a fit of honesty, though he regrets it immediately when she coos in response. "But…to tell you the truth, I feel kinda guilty."

"Why?" Piper runs a hand through his hair the same way she did the first time he told her how his mom died, and the memory makes him smile.

"Well, I mean, my dreams all this time have been about the Dragon," he says. "Like you said about Krios being your fight…I feel like finding the Dragon is my destiny, and I hate that I've had to put it on hold."

Piper nods, understanding. "I get it…but also, if it's really your destiny to find the Dragon, you will. Maybe not right now, but you have to prioritize, too. And besides, it's not like the end of the world is tomorrow. You've got time."

"That's true," he murmurs. "That's true."

"So just focus on what's in front of you right now," she says soothingly.

"The spheres," he says. "Yep."

"And Hazel," she adds, making kissy noises. Leo doesn't even bother turning around to see her expression, eyebrows going crazy accompanied by a lewd sneer – which she must be donning with that kind of tone.

"Fuck the shut up," he snaps back at once, and Piper laughs, loud and bright.

/

Hazel wakes from a flashback gasping for breath.

It takes her a second to regain her senses and figure out that she's alive, safe, and in Bunker Nine. Frank's bed is empty – he must be on shift, but she wishes he were here to calm her down: he somehow knows exactly how to get her breathing to slow down.

She takes deep breaths, reaching underneath her cot to grab the bottle of water that Frank always leaves for her every night. She takes a gulp, and then another, and then another, until her body has cooled and seems to be functioning normally again.

She looks around. Leo, in the distance, is conversing with Beckendorf at his workspace. Piper and Jason, a few beds away, are fast asleep, limbs twined around each other like they are nothing more than pieces of string that can't help circling each other.

Hazel makes her way to the bathrooms as discreetly as she can, hoping Leo doesn't notice her: she's still somewhat (read: extremely) embarrassed by collapsing into a flashback right in front of him, and she's even more embarrassed by the fact that it had been Sammy - who must have been reborn as Leo and placed here just to complicate her life further - who she had first remembered after the flashback. Leo is Sammy, there's no other explanation – he looks the same, walks the same, talks the same, laughs the same cheery laugh the same, and his last name is Valdez, too. Hazel had nearly burst a vein when she found out.

In the bathroom, she splashes cool water into her face and watches in the mirror as it drips down her chin. She'd first been uncomfortable using the bathrooms, but to her surprise they are surprisingly airy and don't smell at all, which Annabeth chalks down to great ventilation around the caves. Hazel can sense the plumbing job, pipes of metal deep within the earth leading deeper into the forests.

Forests. Mountains. Hazel could use some fresh air right now.

She closes her eyes briefly, reaching deep within in the numerous tunnels weaving in and out of the Bunker, before finding an interesting path. It seems to be going up rather than away, and she can't feel out where it opens, exactly, but hopefully it'll be to the outdoors.

Either way, it'll be an adventure.

Hazel makes her way up the path with relative ease. The darkness doesn't bother her, because she can feel the rocks well enough by touch, and they respond back to her, warning her of sharp bends in the tunnel and bits of stone that stick out awkwardly from the wall.

Finally she emerges onto what must be the mountaintop, because the air feels thin and cold, and she can feel just how high up she is. The stars look closer from up here, and Hazel can see the silhouettes of the trees swaying gently in the wind.

It's breathtaking, she thinks, giddy, and she might've laughed aloud in her joy if not for the fact that she's not alone.

Some distance away, two figures bathed in candlelight sit near the edge of the cliff – Percy and Annabeth, she notes with interest. Then in a flash she remembers what Frank had said about Jason and Piper coming up here for some alone time and she feels her face warm. She has to get out of here before she interrupts something. Percy and Annabeth look awfully close, their shoulders touching as Percy throws his back and laughs freely.

Percy's lounged back, his legs outstretched, and by the tilt of his mouth, the warmth in his eyes, he's teasing Annabeth. She gives him a playfully maddened shove, and Percy rocks into it, beaming, before Annabeth ruffles his hair affectionately.

Hazel turns to go.

It's too late, however. Something must give her away, because Annabeth turns around and smiles when she sees her, beckoning her over.

"You really are a tunnel whiz," she praises. "I can't believe you found this place by yourself."

Hazel shrugs, trying for nonchalant, although she's already smiling. "It wasn't that hard."

"Stop it, you show-off," Percy grins, patting the stone next to him; Hazel sits. "Just because you have special earth powers that don't let you get lost -"

"Just because you can't tell direction for shit, Percy, I honestly have no idea how you managed so long on your own," Annabeth cuts in, rolling her eyes at him and grinning at Hazel like they're sharing a private joke.

"I can do just fine overland," Percy protests. "It's just these fucking tunnels -"

"Language," Annabeth admonishes gleefully, sharing another knowing look with Hazel, who smiles, because she really does appreciate the effort. Swearing doesn't come easily to her, and hearing curse words spoken so openly is a different experience, too. Annabeth had caught on to her discomfort shortly after Hazel had admitted the truth to them, and she must've said something to the others, because they've slowly but surely been switching up their language, using phrases like gosh darn it and heck, no whenever Hazel is around.

"My bad, Hazel," Percy says casually, lifting a hand in apology.

"It's okay," she says. "What are you guys doing up here, anyway? It's not your patrol night."

"Percy dragged me up here because apparently if he can't sleep, I can't be allowed to, either," Annabeth says grumpily, though Hazel can tell she doesn't really mind.

"Have you been here all night?" she asks, eyeing them curiously.

Percy shrugs noncommittally as though he'd like to deny it, but in the end he mutters, "Weird dreams kept me up."

"And he could really do with some beauty sleep, too," Annabeth injects innocently. "I mean, for the sake of our eyes if not anything else. Nobody likes waking up to his tired panda eyes every morning."

"My eyes are fine," Percy says, frowning. He rubs at them. "And if you're really out here criticizing my best feature, maybe I should ask you what's wrong with your eyes."

"I'll tell you what's wrong with my eyes. They have to look at you every day wandering around the Bunker as though you're half dead." Annabeth gives him her special you idiot look.

Percy makes a truly grotesque face at her to make her splutter, and then turns to Hazel with a friendly smile. "So what brings you up here, Hazel?"

"I couldn't sleep either," Hazel admits. "Another…flashback."

It's a new experience, being able to talk about one of her episodes so freely, but it's a load off of her chest. She had first been certain she would be a target for much finger-pointing, but everyone seems to be sympathetic – not judging at all.

Annabeth wrinkles her nose. "Remind me to get you the sleeping potion when we're back in the Bunker – but it's a good thing you came up here, anyway. We were just talking about you."

"We weren't bitching about you, or anything," Percy clarifies.

"Language, Percy-"

"I was just telling her that we talked about Nico."

Hazel nods, remembering Percy mentioning that he'd told Annabeth about him.

"Never mind that – for now, at least," Annabeth says. "Hazel, you wanted to talk to me about something, right?"

"What?" Hazel doesn't remember having that particular conversation, even though it's true. "When?"

"Back when you told us about you," Annabeth says, her brows furrowing. "You shot me this look like you needed to tell me something important in private – I thought you meant –"

"Oh, no, yes!" Hazel says, her heart thrilling at the thought that she'd simply looked at Annabeth and the other girl had actually understood her. All her previous fear about not really being part of the gang begin to fade. "I can't believe you knew what I meant!"

Annabeth smiles, tilting her head a little. "I mean, I guess it's only natural among friends, right?"

"Right," Hazel agrees, and she must be grinning pretty hard, because Percy snorts and ruffles her curls the way he usually does when she's pulled off a successful technique during one of their sparring matches.

"So," Annabeth says, "what'd you want to tell me? Unless you don't wanna tell me with Percy around – in which case, get moving, Seaweed Brain."

"Hazel loves me, Hazel doesn't want me to leave," Percy counters at once. "Right, Hazel?"

"I don't mind," Hazel agrees easily, biting the inside of her cheek to stifle her smile when Percy immediately sticks his tongue out at Annabeth.

"Don't be an idiot, Percy," Annabeth replies.

"Language, Annabeth," Percy mimics.

"Oh my god, shut up," Annabeth snaps at him long-sufferingly, shoving him in the shoulder, though she's grinning. Percy scoffs and shoves her back, dodging artfully when Annabeth aims a punch to his gut. At this point Percy ropes Hazel into picking sides, and Annabeth proposes a whole debate with Hazel as moderator. This is the great thing about Percy and Annabeth, she's realized. They never let you feel left out.

As she watches them bicker, she can't help but admire how open and free they are with their touches. Percy pushes at Annabeth's shoulder. She presses her knuckles into his hair. They lean into each other without even thinking about it, like it's second nature to them now. They talk over each other constantly but still there's an underlying current of respect that accompanies every look passed between them, every shared action. There's not a single doubt that in Percy's eyes that Annabeth is their undisputed leader, one he'd follow to hell and back, and Hazel can tell just by how Annabeth responds to him how much she trusts him, too.

Hazel is – she's so jealous.

She wants that. She wants to be like that – she wants to be free and casual and open with Frank: the gods only know he deserves it after putting up with her for so long. She's caught him staring longingly at Jason and Piper sometimes, and she isn't jealous – she's just guilty for not being the kind of person whom he can kiss whenever he wants, the kind of person who can call him her boyfriend without flushing all the way down to her toenails.

Frank deserves better than her, but there's not a day that goes by that she doesn't thank the gods she has him.

Now, if only she could tell him that without losing her own mind…

"Anyway," Annabeth says, kicking Percy away from her with a short laugh and turning to Hazel. "What'd you wanna tell me, Hazel?"

"Tell us," Percy whispers.

"Us," Annabeth amends, with a sideways glance at him that is half-exasperated, half-fond.

Hazel almost feels bad for coming up here now. Her story is dark at the very least, if not disturbing, but it will definitely ruin the playful atmosphere – maybe she can tell them another time?

But Annabeth only waves her hand when Hazel brings it up. "It was only a matter of time before I got mad at Percy and shoved him down the mountain, and that would've ruined the mood pretty quick," she says, grinning wider when Percy makes a squawking noise. "Trust me, you're doing me a favor."

Hazel doesn't know where to start. She doesn't know how. It's been hard not to tell Annabeth everything, tell her all the secrets that she's been carrying around and how tired they've made her – Frank understands the burden she carries more than anyone and how much she's been struggling, but his own secrets aren't as treacherous.

"Start from the beginning," Percy suggests, crossing his arms over his knees and bringing them closer to his body, the way Hazel imagines a little kid would do before storytime. His eyes shine with interest. Hazel notices Annabeth's lips quirk up at the sight of him.

Hazel starts from the beginning. She was born in 1938 in New Orleans to Marie Levesque, who worked at a fortune-teller. She was said to be gifted in the art of talking to spirits, and maybe she really had managed to do it, too, because she was able to gain herself the attention of Pluto himself.

More than anything else in the world her mother had wanted to be rich. She had grown up poor and she was still living in poverty, and the sight of the women in town, wives of businessmen who wore fine dresses and pearls around their necks, were the cause of a gripping envy. Pluto promised her anything she wanted, and so Marie had asked for an endless supply of gold and gemstones to keep her happy and well-fed forever.

In return, Pluto had given her Hazel.

Hazel doesn't remember the place she'd grown up in much. She'd gone to a Catholic school called St. Agnes, which was meant only for colored children – that had been where she'd met Sammy Valdez (she leaves that part out), and she'd had a fairly decent childhood, considering the circumstances. Her mother had been good to her, and with Hazel beginning to grow into her powers, they found they could afford a lot they hadn't been able to live with before. Hazel still remembers the first day her mother made her shrimp gumbo, which they'd never even dreamed of eating before, and how her mother had laughed aloud when Hazel licked her plate clean and demanded seconds.

Her mother had been good for a time. Hazel remembers far more of her kind face and warm eyes than how she'd looked when everything had gone sour, and she still finds that she cannot fully blame the woman for packing them both up and uprooting their lives during the most impressionable part of her adolescence.

Hazel doesn't remember much until after, really, until her mom began to go…let's say mildly crazy.

"What do you mean?" Percy asks. Annabeth hushes him.

"I don't know how to describe it," Hazel admits. Her mother had been perfectly sane until their sudden move to suburban California, and she admits she still isn't quite sure triggered the relocation. They'd been doing just fine in New Orleans: Marie was even thinking of beginning a jewellery business now that Hazel was learning to summon gold and diamonds, and they were making ends meet far easier than before.

Then her mother had met some gentleman in a suit and everything had gone haywire.

"Man in a suit?" Annabeth asks, her eyes wide.

Hazel nods. "He was…I don't know. He gave me a bad feeling, but he managed to charm my mother in two seconds flat, which was a big red flag – and for context, my mother has…had always been an extremely suspicious person."

"Do you remember anything else about him?" Annabeth questions, leaning forward. "Anything at all."

"His face was…really scarred," Hazel recalls, and Annabeth swears so graphically Hazel gasps and Percy screeches, again, "Language!"

"Prometheus," Annabeth spits. "Hazel, no wonder your mom was charmed, he was charmspeaking her!"

"What?" Hazel says, feeling faint. "That would explain it."

"What happened after that?"

"My mom started bringing to me to this…underground lair, almost," Hazel says. "I don't remember much about it, but she would train me – she'd make me pull up gemstones, and later, gold, from the earth. I thought she was using me to sell the stones, to get us money, but she never took anything.

"Then one day, she took me down there and made me focus. She told me to reach beneath the Underworld, beneath everything. She said I'd find gold." Hazel swallows as she remembers the fanatic gleam in her mother's eyes, the frantic rushing of her speech. Hazel had been terrified of her – this haggard woman with a permanent expression of mania writ across her face. Marie had been beautiful, once, which a willowy body that made even white businessmen who looked down on them glance her way. She'd been beautiful enough to attract a Roman god, even, but now her face is pinched, her hair is thin, and she looks older than her true age.

Hazel gazes down at her wrist – the skin is smooth where it hadn't been before. She'd refused her mother, once, uncomfortable with using her powers in such a manner, and Marie had grabbed her hand so hard her fingernails had made little crescent-shaped marks, drawing tiny drops of blood that had made Hazel cry out in shock. She'd known for sure, then, that something was wrong. Her mother had always been angry at the world, but she'd never once acted out against Hazel.

She stops talking. Her wrist tingles, now, in remembrance of old wounds. Percy and Annabeth are silent – Percy looks sickened, but Annabeth looks furious, her fists shaking slightly.

Hazel takes a breath and goes on speaking, mostly because Percy's expression is quickly morphing into pity and she doesn't want to deal with it; she'll probably cry.

What started out as evenings spent in the sultry cave turned into whole-night affairs, until Hazel was forced to quit her school there and spend nearly the entire day in the cave with her mother. She would work on pulling whatever-it-was from dawn till dusk, stopping only for food, water, and bathroom breaks every few hours. Several days a week, the suited man visited them to record her progress and assure her she was doing a wonderful job.

At that point, Hazel wasn't so sure.

"I told my mother that something felt wrong, but she forced me to pull it up," Hazel whispers. "Every day. Until – until it was almost to the surface – and then I realized that I was doing. What she was making me do."

She sees the cavern again, damp and dark, save for the candle her mother held in her arms. Occasionally the entire cave would shake a little as Hazel struggled to control her powers – most sessions would leave her gasping for breath by the end of them, and she had even blacked out once or twice, only to be shaken awake by her mother and made to continue.

Even as her body grew weaker, her grasp over the earth, over the riches that lay underneath, improved exponentially. Gemstones, which used to appear around her when she called for them, began to surface without her having to even think about them. The cave grew into a treasure trove full of untold riches – Hazel often thought of grabbing a handful and running away with them, but she couldn't leave her mother, even though she barely recognized the woman anymore.

She learned enough about her powers and the extent of them to know she was reaching for something deep, deep beneath the surface. Beneath Asphodel, beneath the field of Punishment, beneath the entire, Underworld, even.

She was bringing something from Tartarus, she was sure of it. Something that felt…old, cold, and undeniably malevolent.

"It was a sarcophagus," she admits, closing her eyes briefly. Annabeth lets out a low moan. Percy's eyes are wide.

She'd cried herself silly the day she'd figured it out. Her mother had seem unfazed.

"You're doing well," she'd said, her eyes glazed over and her smile stretched and fake. "You must keep on."

Hazel had kept on, as instructed, but she knew deep within her heart that she was aiding a great evil. She began to lessen the pull she had on the coffin over time, enough for her mother and the man to acknowledge her progress, but she never did any more than she had to.

Prometheus began to visit nearly every day – at this point the sarcophagus was scarily close to emerging through to the surface. He seemed pleased by her, and on that final day, he had kneeled down next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder, and thanked her for her service to the Titan Lord – her help would surely be rewarded. She and her mother would be hailed as the key players in the New Golden Age.

Titan Lord, Hazel had thought, dread pooling in her stomach, heavy like liquid mercury. Her mother was smiling.

Suddenly Hazel understood what she had to do.

She lifted her arms. It took a tremendous amount of effort to do so, given how frail she was by then, but she could feel the mud under her feet and the rocks of the mountain respond to her command. She could feel everything, she could feel the earth rumble beneath her bare feet from miles and miles away.

Prometheus snarled, "What are you doing?"

Hazel didn't respond. She couldn't. Her mouth was filling with blood.

"Hazel, stop it this instant," her mother screamed. "What are you doing, you insolent child? After all I have done for you-"

Hazel couldn't stop. The cave vibrated violently. Gravel began to fall from the ceiling.

Prometheus growled and made to step toward her, but a large shard of stone blocked his path. Marie was sobbing.

Prometheus shot her a look of the utmost loathing and vanished in a flash of gold light – and the moment he disappeared, Hazel's mother seemed to come back to herself. She fell to her knees as though disoriented, looking around confusedly until her gaze finally settled upon her daughter.

Hazel had been crying. Her body was bathed in sweat, and the ground beneath her feet radiated heat – heat and anger, white-hot anger burning from the very thing she'd spent months and months retrieving from the depths of hell.

"What have I done," her mother cried. "What have I done?"

Hazel sobbed aloud, the metallic taste of blood coated all over her tongue and teeth, as her mother finally made her way to her, her feet hissing upon contact with the sizzling ground. Her arms circled Hazel's shoulders. She didn't say another word.

The last thing Hazel remembers from her old life one last sob – a sound that could have been from either one of them, before being consumed by darkness, and then, miraculously, light.

She stops. "That's how I died. I collapsed the mountain on me and my mom and killed us – I could only hope to delay Kronos' rise, I couldn't do anything to stop it altogether." Too late she realizes her cheeks are damp, and she rubs at her eyes with the heels of her palms.

Annabeth curses loudly out of nowhere, making Hazel jump and flinch away – she knows she's messed up, but somewhere in her, she'd really been hoping – and especially after how they hadn't really minded about her being from the Underworld…she'd hoped –

"I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice catching a little at the end. "I-"

"Why are you apologizing?" Percy demands, his teeth gritted. "It wasn't your fault. None of it was. In fact, you probably saved us all."

But." She moistens her lips and pushes down a wave of tears. "But…the reason everything is the way it is now…it's because of me."

"We have a fighting chance because of you." Annabeth leans forward to clasp her hands, hard. "You delayed Kronos' rise – we wouldn't have had a chance of winning back then, what with the gods occupied by World War Two. Hazel…I don't think you understand how much you've done."

"And you said you weren't brave." Percy scoffs, holding her shoulder gently and shaking her. "Hazel, I thought you were brave before…but this – you gave up your own life to stop Kronos. There's no higher honor for a demigod."

"And you were so young," Annabeth says. "What – thirteen? And your mom was –"

She sighs in frustration, meeting her gaze with an urgency she doesn't fully understand. "Hazel, I…I don't have words to describe the significance of what you did. It's – amazing. Miraculous. It's…" She trails off, lost for words; apparently actions are hard to describe.

Hazel wipes her eyes again, suddenly frustrated. She'd been expecting harsh words, not this – she doesn't deserve kindness for what she did. She'd worked for the enemy for months – months! – and had possibly pushed up Kronos' resurrection by centuries. Her age isn't an excuse. Hazel could've run away – she could've stopped Kronos sooner – she could've done something.

How can Percy and Annabeth look at her without raging? How can they stare her way as though she's done something wondrous, when really she's ruined their lives?

She feels like choking, the guilt welling up in her chest and threatening to subsume her.

She winces angrily. "Don't you guys get it? I basically brought Kronos back – me collapsing the cavern didn't do anything in the grand scheme of things. I'm the reason he came back so early. I'm the reason demigods have nearly died out."

"Hazel, Kronos was going to rise anyway," Percy soothes, his pretty, pretty green eyes softening. "You delayed him, you slowed him down – that was enough. And yeah, we're in a shitty situation right now, but that's because of – of a multitude of other reasons. You have nothing to do with it."

"I-" she chokes out and covers her mouth with her hand, shivering violently. "I did-"

"It's all right, Hazel," Percy assures her, stroking her hair. "You did what needed to be done."

"I don't know why I did it," Hazel admits in a tiny voice, the enormity of what she'd done for Kronos, the aftermath of her actions, finally catching hold. And along with it comes the fear – fear of facing her own sins, fear of her own actions coming to haunt her.

She's held this in for a long, long time.

"If I'd stopped him sooner -"

"By stopping him when you did, you saved that generation of demigods," Annabeth points out, patting Hazel's knee and smiling. "Do you realize that? If demigods had been wiped out then, we wouldn't be here now, and we certainly wouldn't be safe. The demigods in those times – your times – paved the way for us to be where we are. New Rome wouldn't exist. Neither would the Bunkers."

Hazel shakes her head vehemently, but despite herself she thinks about it, and the weight that's settled over her chest seems to uncoil a little. In a tiny voice, she asks, "You truly think that?"

"Of course," Annabeth says confidently.

"There's one thing I don't get, Hazel," Percy butts in. Annabeth casts him a questioning look. "I was thinking…"

"I thought I could hear the cogs whirring," Annabeth grins.

Percy shoves her aside before continuing. "You told me that bringing back the dead needs a sacrifice. A life for a life."

"Yes," Hazel agrees. She feels her blood run cold. "You don't think…with how weak I was feeling…"

Annabeth's face contorts into something resembling unrestrained, ugly rage. "Prometheus, that slimy rat."

"He told me mother that…that if we helped, we'd get to go to a better place." Hazel feels sick. "He knew we were going to die anyway."

Percy slams his hand against the rocks. "Fuck. Fuck."

Annabeth is so shaken she doesn't even tell him to mind his language.

Hazel presses her hands against her mouth and tries not to hyperventilate. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to breathe, but a light touch from Annabeth brings her back.

"This only proves that the Titans were scum," she says, voice hard and edged with something lethal. "And it really does prove that you saved the world."

"You're a hero," Percy says reverently. Hazel stills.

She's never been called that before. She's never felt like one before. She knows what heroes are supposed to look like. They are supposed to look intelligent. Strong. Brave. Calm in the face of danger. Tall. Beautiful. Hazel is none of those things. She is small, thin, and nothing about her is really that special. She isn't a hero. She's far from it.

"I'm a hero?" she gets out, her voice tembling.

"A million percent," Percy says, ruffling her hair again. He says it with a kind of reassuring certainty, and the gesture is so friendly and familiar she bursts into tears.

"Oh, Hazel," Annabeth whispers through an indulgent smile, drawing Hazel closer to her. She rests Hazel's head against her shoulders, winds an arm around her waist, and rocks her back and forth, making small, soothing noises.

And suddenly Hazel is transported back to her first day of school in New Orleans, a day where she'd cried just as much as she is now, only it had been her mom to gather up in her kind, warm, soft arms and whisper that everything was going to be just fine.

She misses her mother – her mother back when she'd been in her right mind, because Marie Levesque really had been a good woman, once. She misses the days when her biggest worry was the stuck-up girls from the next school over. She misses the grassy paths and the clear blue skies around her house. She misses her mother tucking her into bed every night with a kiss on her forehead. She misses playing around with Sammy in their tiny little backyard, every day finding something new to do. Once, they'd spent an hour looking for a shell for a slug. They'd spent an hour doing nothing but try to make a slug a snail.

She misses Sammy with every single bit of her. She misses him so much it hurts to think about him.

"You're so brave," Annabeth tells her, while Percy wipes the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. Hazel isn't really all that comfortable with physical contact, but coming from Percy and Annabeth it feels like a warm hug from the family she never got to have, and it triggers another round of sobbing.

She's soaked Annabeth's t-shirt through, but the other girl doesn't complain once. She merely breathes deeply into Hazel's hair, making Hazel unconsciously mimic her and calm down automatically. She sighs.

She stays there, buried in Annabeth and Percy, who has rested his hand on Hazel's other shoulder comfortingly. She breathes in the smell of the fresh forest air and something that oddly feels oceanic; and she's pretty sure she whispers a Thank you before her eyes flutter shut and she falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.

/

"Are you sure you're…okay enough for this?" Percy asks Annabeth doubtfully as she sheds her hoodie and tightens her ponytail.

"What?" she demands at once, the skin around her eyes tightening. "I'm better at hand-to-hand than you are. If this is you going soft-"

"You haven't slept all night!" Percy objects. "I just don't want to – hurt you –" Hell, that came out wrong –

Her eyes flash. "I'll kick your ass."

"You can kick my ass after getting some sleep," Percy beseeches. "I'm on your side."

"I don't need sleep," Annabeth snaps. "I need to hit something."

"So I'm your punching bag?"

She shrugs. "If that's what you wanna call it."

It's insane to think that just about an hour ago, she was holding Hazel and comforting her in a way Percy can only describe as motherlike. She'd been – soft, sweet, in a way he hadn't imagined her capable of being, and something about the whole thing had felt incredibly warm and intimate. It had made Percy long for memories with his family he'd thought had long been forgotten.

He'd carried Hazel down to her bed and tucked her in – only the sight of the sleeping demigod had roused the old hardcore Annabeth; she'd dragged him to their usual training spot and. Well. Here they are.

Percy glares at her. "Fine." He unsheathes his sword and throws it to the side. "Let's go, then. You're all talk, anyway – woah!" He stumbles backward, only just managing to miss her first swing, a sharp punch directed right at his nose. She's sent it with so much force that he can feel the rush of air and hear the light whistle from it, too – that had been too close.

"Do rules mean nothing to you?" Percy screeches, regaining his footing quickly and whirling around to face her with a glare. "I mean-"

Annabeth offers him neither sympathy nor respite. Her fists come flying towards him again, followed by a vicious kick that would've gotten him in the gut if he hadn't moved away in him. Percy is forced into a defensive position as Annabeth works the anger out of her system, throwing blows at him ceaselessly. He ducks left and right, skids to the side, somersaults forward, glides backward – no, he's not yielding; he's long past the point of running from a fight.

As much as it seems like it, Annabeth doesn't have limitless energy. Percy's learned after many, many matches with her that tiring her out is his best bet – but only if she doesn't realize what his plan is, because she is more than capable of knocking him out with a single blow.

Percy begins to fight back when he can, blocking her punches, sweeping his legs under hers and forcing her to jump up – he's aiming to keep her moving, keep never let her rest, and sure enough, after a while, he notices that there's the slightest pause between each movement she makes.

Unfortunately, he also gets distracted by the sleek muscles in her arms and ends up getting jabbed in the nose.

He grunts, annoyed at himself, and retaliates by sending a spray of water into her eyes. Annabeth shrieks in surprise and stops in her tracks, wiping her face.

"Cheater," she growls, her lips pouted in disgust.

"You didn't care to specify any rules," Percy comments pettily, immediately regretting opening his big fat mouth at all when she adopts a terrifying smirk and slaps her Yankees cap onto her head. He curses, then claps a hand over his mouth – he needs to be quiet if he's going to hope to catch her making a sound.

A shift in the air alerts him to her first strike – a kick to his torso that he deflects easily. He sends a sheet of water in her general direction in the hopes of knocking her cap away, but she must've already beaten a hasty retreat out of range, because she still remains unseen.

"Have you worked yourself back to sanity?" Percy asks the empty air, turning around in a circle as he wipes the blood from his nose into the back of his wrist. His nose is stinging, pain shooting right up his sinuses into almost every part of his face, and his eyes might be watering, but he doesn't care.

"No," she hisses from behind him, and Percy manages to duck before she can land a punch. He grabs her legs and she goes down with a yelp, shimmering back into existence as he rips the cap from her head, but Percy's victory is short-lived, because she immediately retaliates by kicking him squarely in the shoulder.

"Who are you even mad at?" he demands, "and why are you taking it out on me?"

"Kronos," she says bitterly, scrambling back to her feet. "Prometheus. Everyone. Everything. I just need this, okay – don't pretend like you don't."

He does. Annabeth might be working fury from her bloodstream, but Percy's trying to rid himself of the fear. In his time alone he realizes he'd become detached from all the deaths he'd seen during the War, and Hazel's story had been kind of a wake-up call for him – that the Titans were still out there, there were still dangerous, they'd been planning this for a long time, and they would stop at nothing – not even hesitating let a young girl die for their schemes – to get what they desired.

It terrifies him. He's lived this long – he doesn't know how, but he can't stand the thought of dying at Kronos' hands. Not after all the Titan has done.

The fight is helping. Percy definitely does feel lighter, but he isn't going to admit it to her, not when she's grinning at his nosebleed – she could at least pretend to be tired, but her shoulders are rising and falling only slightly more forcefully than before.

"You're being stupid-" he begins, cutting his own recoup short and using the brief moment of pause to flip forward, bringing his leg up in a kick as he lands. Annabeth manages to evade, but only just, and he can tell by the surprise that flits across her face that she hadn't been expecting it to be that close, either.

That seems to do it.

He's never seen Annabeth lose control before, but it's a sight to behold. She's rough, abandoning all finesse and instead favoring brute strength and a relentless, careless drive that takes Percy a second to match. She's wild and rushed, like a storm personified, and he almost can't keep up with her. He gets drawn into the match before he knows it, ducking and jabbing and flipping around, never allowed a moment to rest, and he knows that the only way for him to win is to bring the fight back into his territory, but he also doesn't want this to end.

"Why are you so mad?" he pants.

"Because, Percy." Annabeth aims a punch that he bats aside with his forearm. "Prometheus manipulated Hazel's mom, who manipulated Hazel – and the gods didn't do anything. They sent Hazel to Asphodel for saving their asses, and they didn't…they didn't warn anyone about just how serious the situation was. They –" she sidesteps Percy's kick – "They made demigods fight for them, over and over, and it makes me think – what if what we're doing is pointless?"

"It's not pointless," Percy says, though he's uncertain, and by the way Annabeth's eyebrows quirk upward, she can tell, too.

It's not that Percy isn't angry – because he really, really is. It had taken a lot of restraint to stop himself blowing up at Hazel's story – a story doubly horrifying when he reminds himself that it isn't just some fable. Hazel had actually lived like that. It had sent shivers down his spine to know that the Titans had been planning Kronos' rise all those decades ago, and poor Hazel had been caught in the crossfire, forced to do the Titans' bidding under false promises from her mother. He wants to hate Marie Levesque, too, but at the end of the day she was just a mortal, and a frustrated mortal at that. Pluto had promised her a life where she could live comfortably, a life for her and her daughter where she was rich and happy, and she'd believed him. And then, obviously, when that hadn't worked out, she'd grown bitter, and so when Prometheus had offered revenge, of course she'd taken it. Of course she had.

It makes him angry and terribly, terribly sad, because there are the gods and the Titans and there are demigods and monsters and mortals in between – at least demigods can see the world as it really is. Mortals can be fickle, easily manipulated, and are ultimately just pawns on the board for the gods and Titans to play around with as they see fit. The Titans – they lure mortals in with materials, proffer money and power in exchange for their services. Percy remembers fully well how it is in New York, where there are Titan-hired mercenaries patrolling the rooftops, where monsters roam freely among mortals, and thinks that a world with the gods in charge surely can't be worse than this.

But the gods are shitty in their own way. They go a different route – sleeping with mortals to further their lineage, but then they turn a blind eye to their children until the time as right, if at all. They seduce mortals under the guise of love, and then they leave. It's almost worse, in some ways, than what the Titans do.

Percy absently wonders if his mother had been a victim of these falsehoods. Had Poseidon proposed marriage to her in that dingy little cabin in Montauk? Had he sworn to make Sally his queen? He'd certainly lied to leave her easily enough – his mother had scarcely mentioned his birth father, but she always gave him the same answer whenever he asked: Lost at sea. Percy snorts. What a joke.

Maybe Annabeth is right, but –

"If we give up fighting…"

"We'll have nothing left," Annabeth says, sounding defeated, exhaling so forcefully the curls that have fallen into her face lift up a little. "I know." She shakes her arms and falls right back into a fighting stance. "That's's why…ugh. Let's just…fight."

He nods.

Despite the apparent distress in her voice, Annabeth moves as sharply as ever, attacking him with precise jabs that Percy has to work hard to deflect.

Lupa had once told Percy that he was a bundle of natural instincts – it could prove to be his greatest strength as long as he kept his head about him. His body had been small back then, soft with childhood and his mom's incredible cooking – his frame hadn't been made for fighting, but he'd worked hard for it anyway.

Percy had learned hand-to-hand combat the hard way, fighting Lupa's pack of wolves, and, in time, Lupa herself, until he grew skilled at trusting his intuition - and the art of knowing when to use his head in a fight.

Every inch of his body is screaming at him to speed up. Annabeth's eyes are narrowed in concentration, and the way she fights ensures that there isn't a single wasted movement. Percy's body wants to go faster, but in his mind he knows he needs to slow it down, make it his fight.

Their battle slowly turns into something resembling a complex dance. Neither of them manage to land a real blow, choosing instead to deflect and dodge – and it's fun. Annabeth huffs out a laugh when Percy kicks close enough to graze the hair on top of her head. Percy snorts aloud when she kickflips off the ground.

It's obvious that Annabeth's been taught finesse; her body is smaller than his, and she is crazy flexible, ducking into an actual split to avoid his next stab – at this point she's just trying to show off.

Percy won't be left behind. Years of fighting have made him quick enough to evade, lithe enough to deflect, and strong enough to destroy – and right now he's targeting the self-assured grin splitting across her face.

Things get interesting when Percy pushes close enough to land a solid punch to her stomach – Annabeth wheezes, and Percy momentarily feels a pang of guilt before he remembers his smarting shoulder and bleeding nose. Annabeth uses their closeness to lift her knee into his chin, but Percy jerks his head back at the last minute, dancing backward and allowing her a moment to touch her lips tentatively.

He swings, a wild and uncoordinated swipe, and Annabeth dodges. Then -

Percy.

The shock of the voice renders him motionless, and then suddenly he's on the ground, and he's dazed, and the side of his head is throbbing, hot and painful, and he wonders if he's been possessed, and he wonders if whatever had possessed him has gotten a control of his limbs, but then Annabeth's face appears right above his. She's wide-eyed in her guilt as she apologizes profusely over and over, which is when Percy realizes that it had been her kick that has him sprawled on the ground like this.

"Ow," he remembers, touching the side of his head.

"I'm so sorry!" Annabeth wails. "I thought you'd dodge!"

"I was going to, it's just – I heard this voice –"

He waits, clutching his head, but the voice is gone. Annabeth raises an eyebrow at him and flicks a clump of mud at him. "I'm beginning to think you just don't like to admit when you've lost."

"But I didn't lose," Percy says haughtily, closing his eyes to listen for the voice again, but they fly open when Annabeth jumps up and tackles him to the ground with a battle cry. He loses his balance and they both tumble to the ground in an awkward pile of limbs.

"Sore loser!" she yells, digging his fingers into Percy's side with a screech of laughter.

"Fake winner!" Percy gasps out between bursts of laughter, hooking his legs around her waist and rolling so she ends up pinned to the ground, struggling and wheezing with giggles.

"Only a sore loser would take a loss this bad," she tuts, smug even though she's literally eating dirt. "Just admit I won fair and square."

"Never," Percy says. "I told you, I heard a voice –" He makes a surprised noise when Annabeth flips herself over and spits grass into his face. "Eugh!"

"Just admit you lost," she says calmly, enjoyment clear in her voice. Then her expression sobers. "Also, you're getting pretty heavy. You need to lose some weight."

She gasps as Percy presses down harder. "See – holy shit, this is getting out of control –"

Percy only smiles. "I need to do what?"

"You're crushing me," Annabeth gasps. "Seriously, I can't breathe."

Percy takes pity on her and rolls off of her, and after a brief pause Annabeth shifts herself into a sitting position. Percy barely gets any warning before she twists towards him and tries to shove him into the dirt, but Percy somersaults out of the way just in time. Annabeth goes for a headlock, but he squirms himself out of it, and after a shamefully short scuffle they both find themselves spread-eagle in the grass, breathing hard.

"Did you really think I would fall for that?" Percy asks.

"I was kind of hoping." Annabeth's admission is broken by a violent cough; she kicks her foot at his ankles. "It was a better idea than making up stories about voices."

And as if on cue -

Percy? You okay?

"Grover!" he gasps aloud, finally feeling the open empathy link in him. Annabeth's jaw drops open in understanding. She kneels down next to him, pushing her sweat-wet hair from her forehead, and mouths, Ask him where he is.

Where are you? Percy thinks.

Somewhere under Nevada, Grover says urgently. But I've got news. Tyson's been going to get us food, and he ran into some monsters – they said –

Percy lets the discourse fade. Confusion flows in because he knows this can't be right, what Grover's saying can't be possible, but his head is pounding and his face stings and he really can't think it through right now. Then it occurs to him that he is possibly not in his right mind, that maybe this is nothing more than the manifestation of a blow to the head.

Grover? He asks.

Grover stops. Yes?

Am I dreaming?

His voice is full of pity when he responds with, No, Percy, I'm sorry.

Percy pales as Grover speaks. So this is real? And you're sure?

Why would monsters lie?

Yeah, Percy relents. But this means-

I know. It doesn't make sense.

Annabeth's going to freak out, Percy says, his heart stuttering. She's right next to me.

I know, Grover says. But whatever you guys decide to do, just…be careful. And keep her safe. Annabeth tends lose all sense of judgement when it's Luke.

Yeah, Percy thinks bitterly. I know. I'll do what I can.

Good luck, Grover says. Keep me updated.

You, too. Take care. See you soon.

See you.

Percy blinks rapidly to clear his head - which is still hurting – as he tries to make sense of Grover's words. He hates what he's just heard, and he knows Annabeth's going to start hoping again, and he just…he isn't sure what's going on anymore.

Annabeth places a hand on his knee and everything flees from his mind.

"Is everything okay?" she asks tentatively. "Is Grover okay?"

"Yeah." Percy wants to lie, but he can't, because whether he likes it or not, this is vital information that he needs to share.

"What'd he say?"

Percy swallows. "Well, remember how I told Tyson to keep an eye out for Luke?"

She nods. Already her eyes are shining with barely-concealed joy, and he doesn't like the ugly feeling that rises in his chest at the sight.

"Well, Grover says Tyson talked to some monsters," Percy continues. "And they told him that there's someone matching Luke's description – blonde hair, blue eyes, scar down his cheek –"

"Where is he?" Annabeth breathes impatiently, her hands curling into his jeans. "Percy, did they say?"

He nods, swallowing again.

"Where?"

"Othrys," Percy says, incredulous even as the words spill from his mouth. "Othrys. And they said…they said he's holding up the sky."

/

Leo holds up his hand, equal parts disbelieving and flat-out gobsmacked.

"So, let me get this straight," he says. "Luke is…being held hostage on Othrys?"

"Yes," Annabeth says with conviction.

"Unless it's a trap," Percy murmurs under his breath, and Leo has to give him credit for being ballsy enough to actually say what the rest of them are all surely thinking. He's more agitated than Leo's ever seen – brows pinched together, mouth curled in a sneer, eyes judging.

Annabeth scoffs, peering at him as though he's been afflicted by a serious mental illness. "Yeah, Percy, because he's faking holding up the fucking sky – sorry, Hazel – for fun."

"I'm just saying we should be careful," Percy counters. "We need to think about this and not make any rash decisions. You could be right and he really is being held hostage, but he could just as easily be luring us – you – down to Othrys. At the very least, he's bait."

"You have to admit it's a little suspicious, 'Beth," Piper agrees. "I mean, his track record isn't exactly reliable. You spent years after the War looking for him, and now he just shows up on a silver platter?"

"And he's been doing weird shit, meeting Titans – you remember what May said," Percy adds, pressing his hand over Piper's shoulder in gratitude. "We're just saying – we're just asking you to think about it."

"I'm asking you to think about it, too," Annabeth says, throwing her hands in the air agitatedly. She looks at Silena, who is curled up at Beckendorf's side. "You remember Luke – probably better than anyone else here. He was…he was never the type to betray us."

Everyone turns to Silena, who turns pink in the neck the collective attention. "I mean, he was really nice to me when he found me: he brought me back to Bunker Ten and all that, promised to help me if I ever needed anything…"

"I'm with Percy on this," Beckendorf rumbles at once. Silena lifts her arm to hit him in the side, but Beckendorf bats her hand away as she swings without even looking at it. In retaliation Silena swings her elbow back in preparation for a jab, but she ends up hitting Jason in the chin, making him squawk in protest. Piper begins to chortle without even trying to help, and Leo grins, because damn, he loves his strange little family.

"See?" Annabeth crows, ignoring the commotion altogether. "I-I bet he was blackmailed by the Titans, or something…maybe in exchange for helping them he had…to do something…"

"So he's half a criminal at best," Piper says, frowning, and at the same time Percy jeers, "What could he possibly have accomplished, even if he was being blackmailed? What could the Titans have threatened him with that would force him to switch sides? They were going to kill every single demigod they found, anyway. Don't be naïve, Annabeth. That excuse would make sense only if Thalia were still alive."

Leo glances quickly at Jason, who is frowning at Ivlivs. Piper presses her arm against his, possibly to offer some comfort.

"I don't want to overstep," Percy interjects.

"You already are," Annabeth snaps.

Oof, Leo thinks sympathetically, but Percy doesn't falter. "Piper's right. You can't keep making excuses for him."

"It's not an excuse," Annabeth says hotly, her shoulders fixed in a hard, unyielding line. "Look, it's a gut feeling, okay, and I've never been wrong before."

"You were wrong about me," Percy responds, with similar ire. Leo's respect for the son of Poseidon skyrockets: Leo's never once yelled at Annabeth and he never would. "Maybe you should trust my gut feeling, too – or trust Piper, who knows you best!"

"I'm telling you you're wrong," Annabeth says bluntly, crossing her arms and clenching her jaw – Leo's never seen her like this before. Despite her faults, Annabeth's never struck him as someone who could be this unreasonable, but apparently she saves this side of her solely for matters regarding Luke Castellan.

She looks around the group for support, sighing when nobody speaks up. She massages her knuckles like she's deciding who to punch first.

Leo would say something – only he doesn't feel like it's his place to do so. He'd never really known Luke, to be honest, other than the fact that the bloke was tall and smart and good-looking in ways that Leo could only hope to be. The son of Hermes had not been unlike Jason in appearance, with sandy hair and eyes like clear skies, although, to be fair, Jason exudes this aura of - calmness and stability, whereas Luke had just been…unsettling.

Leo's pretty close to Annabeth now, but Luke and Thalia and Annabeth had very much been the Big Three of the Bunkers back then. Thalia, the presumed Hero of the Prophecy, Luke, with his rugged good looks and exceptional swordmanship skills, and Annabeth, with her intimidating aura and unbeatable smarts. They were like the most popular kids in school, and Leo had wanted nothing more than to be a part of them.

Piper had managed to get on Annabeth's good side early on, but Leo always got the feeling that he pissed her off. Thalia laughed off all his attempts at passive flirting, and Luke – well. Leo had actively avoided Luke.

Something about him had just felt…off. At age nineteen Luke had been the envy of most of the demigods in the Bunkers. He was renowned for being the best swordsman of the age. And yet he never smiled, never made an effort to teach the kids, never showed any real dedication to their cause. The only task he carried out on the regular was retrieving demigods on scouting missions, a task he didn't need to do at all because there had been far more satyrs in the days before the War who were ready and willing to search for demigods.

It hadn't really been a shock to Leo when Luke disappeared during the War, and surprise surprise, most of the demigods Luke had scouted – save for Silena and a few others – jumped ship, too.

It hadn't affected him that deeply. In fact, with Luke gone and Annabeth elected as acting leader, he found himself getting closer to her, enjoying her biting wit and dry sense of humour.

Leo isn't good at reading people – and therefore it had come as no surprise to him when his first impression had turned out to be completely wrong. Some of it wasn't too far off – Annabeth can be a bit prideful at times, and she's sharp as a tack, but she is also kind and helpful and always, always read to share a bit of wisdom when she thinks someone could use it, which had been kind of a relief, because Leo is pretty prone to making himself look like a total buffoon around people who intimidate him, and he doesn't want to do it in front of a Hogwarts founder ("For the last time, I am not Rowena Ravenclaw," Annabeth had shrieked at him).

He has always preferred to be around people who challenged him in different ways. Piper had expanded his emotional intelligence, often grabbing him just to talk about what he's feeling. Jason had pushed his physical strength – he was prone to challenging him to a footrace or even for the occasional sparring match.

Annabeth challenges Leo intellectually. Leo still remembers the two of them sitting on the floor of the Bunker in front of the hearth in the dead of winter, poring over various scrolls as they tried to figure out how best to train Leo as a fire-user. They would discuss principles of physics for hours on end; Leo would go on and on about mechanics while Annabeth elaborated more on architecture.

He liked her far better than he had when Luke had been around, and he could tell everyone else did as well. And after the first hard year had passed and Annabeth had really settled into her role, he'd figured she had grown used to living without him, too.

And so he had thought – he had assumed Annabeth had put two and two together, especially since their quest to May Castellan's home. But suddenly he remembers Annabeth's bottom lip trembling almost nonstop during her first few months as leader of the Bunkers; she had lost her two best friends to the War, albeit in very different ways, and she was all alone.

It makes sense that she still believes in Luke. He'd been all she had for years and years, and more than anything else she probably wants him to be on their side, because she wants him back. Leo can relate to that. He'd give anything to catch a glimpse of his mother in the flesh again, to turn back time just to see her smile at him.

It really is too bad the facts speak of Luke's treachery. Leo watches Annabeth close her eyes and calm her shaking hands, and – well. He'd always suspected she'd had a bit of a crush on Luke, but for the first time he wonders if those feelings were deeper.

Percy clenches his fists. Maybe he's guessed, too.

"Look," Annabeth says finally, gazing around the hearth at their little gathering. "I know you have your doubts about him. I get it. But – but this is something important to me. I'd hate myself forever if I didn't at least check it out."

"We get it," Piper cuts in. "Really, we do. We all lost people we thought we knew to the Titans. But-"

"This is Luke," Annabeth insists. "I know him better than anyone."

"Annabeth-" Percy tries, his voice deep and soothing.

"It'll be a scouting mission, nothing more," Annabeth says, talking over him effortlessly. "If we sense anything amiss, I'll stand down and you can quote me on it. But I have to try – I have to." She bites her lip and looks right at Percy. "And if you don't want to help me, I'll do it alone."

"Annabeth," Percy says again, physically reeling backward as his face takes on this expression of intense shock and hurt.

Annabeth seems to know that she's hurt him – Leo sees her eyes flicker regretfully – but she doesn't stand down. "I mean it."

Piper looks quickly at Jason. "And there's no way you'll change your mind?"

"None." Annabeth crosses her arms. "I'm sorry if it seems like I'm being unreasonable, but I'm not forcing you – like I said, I can do it alone."

"You can't go alone," Piper says, exasperated. "I'm coming with you."

"So am I," Percy adds immediately, glaring at Annabeth like he's expecting her to counter, but she only nods and sends him a tiny smile.

"I can come," Frank says hesitantly, raising his hand – he and Hazel had been so silent that Leo had almost forgotten they were there. He glances at Hazel, expecting to see some amount of confusion, but someone must've caught her up on the Annabeth-Luke backstory, because she looks unfazed by all the information.

"I know my way around Othrys," Frank continues, looking uncomfortable. "I – they sent me to scout the mountain, a lot, when I was in New Rome."

"That's perfect," Percy enthuses. "Frank can turn into an animal and tell us everything we need to know. We probably don't need to get too close to Othrys at all."

Annabeth nods at this, though her brows are furrowed together in mild displeasure. "Four of us, that'll work. But you're sure about leaving Hazel here? We don't travel with more than one Big Three child at once, they attract too many monsters."

Frank hesitates at this. "Oh."

Hazel sits forward and squeezes his hand. "I'll be okay. You should go, it sounds like you'll be pretty a pretty valuable asset."

"You don't worry about her, Frank," Beckendorf assures, reaching over to ruffle Hazel's hair. "We'll keep her safe."

"Wait, I want Hazel," Leo says quickly – he claps his mouth over his hands, his ears flaming, when he realizes what he's just said. Frank shoots him a dirty look. "Not like that! It's just – if I ever need to go get the Dragon –"

"The Dragon?" Annabeth raises her eyebrows. "What about the spheres?"

"We're on schedule," Beckendorf answers, nodding at Leo. "Leo's almost done with his section, and then it's a matter of asking Lou or Maya to fuse it with mine. Leo doesn't need to be here for that – and based on the results, I can start testing it out."

"I'll need Hazel with me if I want to get back quick," Leo says adamantly, resolutely ignoring the way Frank's eyebrows pluck in surprise. "She can sense Bronze, and she's seen the Dragon before."

Annabeth shrugs. "If you're confident about the spheres, then it's fine by me. Hazel, do you have any objections?"

Leo turns to Hazel, expecting the worst, but although she is fanning her face the way she does when she's flustered, she doesn't look altogether displeased. "I'm okay with it."

"Okay. If Hazel's willing, take her with you. You can grab someone else, too, but no more than four people. And you can't take Jason – it's too big a risk." Annabeth rubs her fingers over her eyebrow. "Anything else?"

"So I'm stuck here?" Jason asks.

"Not fun now, is it," Percy leers.

Annabeth stands. "Okay. We have a plan of action now, so let's stick to it. Everyone, keep the info about Luke to yourselves – we'll leave in two days at first light."

The meeting breaks off fairly quickly after that, ending with Annabeth stalking off in the direction of the beds, Percy staring uncertainly behind her. The rest of them share uneasy looks before heading off in separate directions – Percy with Frank, Silena with Beckendorf, and Piper with Jason. Hazel lingers by the hearth, her fingers stretched out towards the flames, but just as Leo opens her mouth to speak, she walks away.

The next two days pass by in a blur of work; as always, the days kind of blend together for Leo, and he only realizes it's the day the others are due to leave when Piper drags him aside.

"Keep an eye on Jason for me," she whispers into his ear as she hugs him. "And I hope you find the Dragon, and also I hope you talk to Hazel."

"Shut up," Leo hisses through his teeth, because Frank is lingering close by, going over the stuff in his backpack with Hazel hovers around him, going over a checklist.

Piper bounds over to Jason and gives him a kiss that Leo doesn't feel comfortable watching, so he looks away, but unfortunately his gaze lands back on Hazel, who meets his eyes and turns quickly back to the piece of paper in her hands.

Piper drags Jason over by the hand and grins at him. "Do I took ready to kick some monster ass?"

"Wearing that?" Leo teases.

"Yeah - why? What's wrong with it?" Piper looks down at herself, pulling her shirt to inspect it. "It's clean."

"You're wearing all black," Leo reminds her. "You're going to be so easy to spot in the sky."

"We'll be so far up on the pegasi that we'll look like birds from a distance. And anyway, I can't just wear white – what happens when we reach Othrys and every monster within a hundred miles sees my bright-ass shirt climbing the mountain?"

"Take some extra clothes!"

"Who's got the time to change clothes every day?"

"You still could've put some thought into it," Leo says, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Your siblings would probably disown you."

"Oh, did you want me to break out the Gucci?" Piper snaps, though her lips are twitching. "Well, my bad. I didn't realize there was a dress code."

"Piper," Jason sighs. Leo grins, but kicks Jason in the shin when he and Piper start kissing again.

Piper shrugs, like she can't help it, and pokes Leo in the tummy. "See me off, please?"

"Sure," Leo relents, allowing Piper to lead him and Jason to the Bunker doors, where Percy and Annabeth are already waiting, heads bent together in a silent exchange. Annabeth quickly outlines their mode of travel – they'll go on foot until the edge of the forest, after which they'll travel by pegasus.

Percy grins and fist-bumps Leo and reminds him that "The Dragon will, a 100%, be in Colorado."

"Percy, you said it had wings," Leo grins. "I bet it flew off somewhere."

"If you find it in Colorado, you owe me," Percy replies adamantly. "But I guess tracking it is Hazel's problem now."

"What is my problem?" Hazel asks, walking up, hand-in-hand with Frank, who looks positively giddy at the contact.

"The Dragon," Percy says.

"Ah," Hazel says in a monotone. She glances quickly at Leo, and then away. Next to Leo, Piper waggles her eyebrows.

"Are we ready to go?" Annabeth asks, placing her hands on her hips. Dressed all in black, with a small blade strapped to every limb, she looks like a super-spy.

"Yeah," Piper nods, pressing her lips to Jason's before waking to Annabeth's side.

"Just a second," Frank says quickly. "Can I talk to Leo?"

"Huh?" Leo squeaks. He's never had a one-on-one conversation with the dude, and in all his time here Frank's mostly spent his time pretending Leo doesn't exist, but you wouldn't think it by the way he easily grabs Leo's shoulder like they're best friends, leading him a couple of steps from the group.

"Um," says Leo, stunned into total inaction. He notices Hazel is watching them carefully.

"I just wanted to ask you a favour," Frank says gruffly, his expression letting Leo know that he wouldn't be doing this if he could help it. "If you go on that Quest, for the Dragon-"

"You don't want me to take Hazel," Leo guesses, his heart plummeting straight down to the soles of his shoes. "That's cool, I guess, I can bring Jason."

"What – no," Frank says, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "She doesn't mind going with you, and you're right, you need her if you want to find the Dragon. I just want you to be…careful with her."

"Because of the flashbacks?"

"Because of everything," Frank snaps, frowning. "Just…when she's slipping into a flashback, grab her hand tightly to snap her out of it. If she's already in one, which happens when she sleeps sometimes, just let it play out. Just. Take care of her, okay?"

Leo blinks. "I mean, yeah. Of course. You have my word." He holds out a hand that Frank doesn't shake, so he continues the motion, lifting his arm up to run through his hair. "Look, man, I like Hazel. She's a cool girl. And I know how much you care about her. I'll keep her safe."

Frank studies him intently, but there's a kind of sadness in his eyes that Leo doesn't understand.

"I know you like her," he says. "Why do you think I asked you, of all people, to keep an eye on her?"

He walks away before Leo can respond; Hazel sidles upto him at once and clasps his hand tightly, even throwing her arms around his shoulders in a quick embrace that has Frank blushing an unflattering shade of pink.

Dazed, Leo walks back to the circle, where Piper gives Jason one last hug.

"Stay safe, come back soon," Jason murmurs into her hair. Piper nods, but over her shoulder Jason throws Percy a solemn look, and Percy responds by nodding, raising a hand like It's okay, I've got this.

"See you guys," Annabeth says. "Leo, don't burn the place down while I'm gone."

"Please don't," Frank echoes. Hazel giggles like they're sharing an inside joke.

"See you," Percy says, waving and grinning.

"See you," Piper says, winking at Leo and blowing a kiss to Jason dramatically.

Hazel looks dejected as Frank pulls away from her. "Is there anything we can do while we're here?"

"Pray we come back safe," Annabeth says grimly. "And possibly with Luke."

Leo notices Piper and Percy both roll their eyes at this.

Jason, who's due on patrol, leaves with Hazel, but Leo walks with the rest to the cave's main entrance, where he stops at the doorway, gazing into the grey landscape outside. The cheer from before seems to die down, the way it always does whenever any one of them heads out of the Bunker and into the real world, where the monsters are many and out for their blood.

In the dim sunset all four of them look almost comically ninja-like, and Leo wants to make a joke about their attire to lighten the mood, but he feels like there's a brick in his stomach, and an awful feeling settles into his gut. Suddenly every part of him doesn't want them to go, and he gets the feeling that nothing is going to be the same after this.

It's not just that he's worried about some of his closest friends walking right into a trap, it's something deeper. Every bit of demigod blood in him is screaming for him to stop them, and, judging by the grim look on Percy and Piper's faces, he isn't alone in his fears.

"Stay safe," he says, though his voice wobbles.

"We will," says Percy, clapping him hard on the back, though his eyes quickly stray back to Annabeth. "Good luck on your Quest, too."

"You take care, too," Piper says, giving him a hug. "Keep an eye on Jason for me until you leave – hopefully I'll be back by then."

Annabeth winks at him. "Good luck hunting your Dragon."

Even Frank steps forward and offers Leo the firm handshake he'd denied him before, even though he doesn't look too friendly. "Take care of Hazel," he says quietly. And then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, "And you stay alive, too."

"Aw, I knew you'd come around eventually," Leo grins, and that seems to do the trick – everyone breaks out into exasperated smiles and eyerolls.

"Well," Annabeth says, her smile fading into something grim and determined, "we'll see you."

"Yeah," Leo says. "See you soon."

The sickening feeling in his gut intensifies. Leo tries for a smile, waving as Frank, Percy, Annabeth, and Piper turn around, consult Annabeth's compass, and break out into a jog. Piper turns one last time, smiling a little, and Leo waves harder. Something about the moment feels special. Something about the moment feels final.

Leo stands there alone, bathed in the mist of the morning, and waves at them until their dark figures blend into the trees.

/

Hazel spends a lot of her time in the Bunker moping. It's kind of fun, because Jason's in a similar state, and two's company, as Frank would say.

She can tell he misses Piper, though sometimes a shadow of a different kind of gloom passes over his expression, so quick that she rarely spots it. She wonders if it's about the Prophecy and the upcoming War – Percy'd briefed her about the whole thing and Jason's status, now, as 'Probably Hero of the Prophecy,' and she doesn't envy him one bit.

She spends a lot of time with Beckendorf – who insists she call him Charles, which Silena informs her is a high honor. Hazel likes Charles, who tends to understand a lot of her struggles in the past, even though she has to kind of twist her stories to make them seem more modern.

Hanging around Charles has only one drawback, and that is the fact that Leo's always, always, always nearby. His workbench is right by Charles', and he spends a half his time poring over his work, long fingers always in motion, deftly twisting over some wires, or cutting a sheet of Bronze, or hammering away at something or the other. The rest of his time Leo utilizes by cracking some of the worst jokes she's ever heard in both her lifetimes and handing out smaller-sized tacos that he can whip up in, like, five minutes flat. Sometimes he sings, too – a fairly catchy song about pina coladas and rainy weather.

She likes watching them interact – Charles and Leo, though half-brothers, are far from close in appearance. Charles is built like a bull, with shoulders as wide as twice her waist. His hands are huge, large enough to grip a basketball with one hand, but his fingers are nimble and delicate with the ability to fix, which Hazel thinks is a wonderful quality to have.

Leo's frame is far more slight, closer to Hazel's than Charles's. His skin is the colour of melted caramel, and his hair is a striking shade of dark brown close to Hazel's own skin tone. His curls are long enough to fall into his eyes, and he keeps having to push them behind his ears with a quick swipe of his hand – hands with long fingers that are constantly in motion, putting something together, taking it apart, tapping on his desk in unintelligible rhythms as he thinks. He and Charles have that in common – this overwhelming passion to build that keeps them constantly innovating, inventing, figuring out something new.

"You're either utterly crazy or utterly brilliant," Hazel says fervently as she watches Leo experiment with an arrow that doubles as a grappling hook.

Leo yanks a wire and sends another mad grin her way.

"Trust me," he tells her seriously, "it's a little bit of both."

When he tries to shoot the arrow, it lodges itself a centimetre from Beckendorf's hand; he yelps and stumbles backward into a line of newly-forged shields.

"Leo!" he shouts. "You're fired!"

Leo's answer is a wild laugh that echoes through the cave.

The worst part is now that Frank isn't around, Leo begins to act around her the same way he acts around everyone else, like he's been holding himself back. And she finds herself relaxing more around him, too – though she is intensely aware of the piece of firewood tucked carefully into a secret pocket in her jacket. Annabeth hadn't batted an eyelid when Hazel had requested a smaller pocket hidden in the inside of the cloth and had stitched one up for her in no time.

And so, invariably, she ends up spending a lot of time with Leo whether she means to or not, and finds at once that it is infinitely easier to be around him without Frank nearby, and it makes her feel terribly guilty, like she's cheating on him or something. At the same time, though, she finds that she genuinely finds Leo funny. She can't help giggling at his puns sometimes, and Leo will always make it a point to look over at her and grin with all his teeth, and it makes butterflies of all shapes and sizes erupt in the pit of her stomach.

They're almost friends, she thinks, and it's a relief. Running into him in the passages isn't uncomfortable anymore, and she feels comfortable enough to smile at him when she sees him and wave at him when their eyes meet. There are times she just has to raise her hand slightly, and it's like she's yanked on a lever with how quickly he moves to wave back, almost like he feels the pull.

It's…something.

A lot of what Leo does is so Sammy that it makes her chest sing and ache in alternate, and very confusing, intervals. When Leo is working for real, he's focused beyond belief. His brows pinch together and his hands are sure and quick. Most surprisingly, he works in total silence, which is equal parts unbelievable and amusing, because he rarely shuts up otherwise.

Leo cracks jokes like he has something to prove. It makes him popular in the Bunker and a big hit among the younger kids, but Hazel had been around Sammy long enough for her to recognize that Leo act is just that – an act. When he's not being loose and carefree for the benefit of everyone else, Leo seems solemn and almost sad at times, and she wants very, very badly to ask him why, but doing so would be rude, not when they aren't even real friends.

She spends a lot of time by herself during the nighttime, thinking about her past and lapsing into quiet flashbacks. Frank had always been there for before to bring her out of a vision, but Hazel finds that letting the scene play out, however long it might take, allows her to wake without assistance and without any kind of commotion.

She'd always thought of the flashbacks as a curse – but maybe, she thinks, maybe they're a blessing. Maybe she can see everyone from before, and learn from them.

Over the course of the days, she sees her mother, the mean white girls at her school, the cave where she pulled up the coffin, and the memory of her bringing it down – she experiences the memories multiple times, some even twice in a row, until she knows the exact sequence of events by heart.

She doesn't see Sammy again – she hasn't seen him since the time she and Leo were waiting outside the Bunker for Frank and the others – and she misses him terribly. She wants to see Sammy again, even if she has to re-experience all the times the two of them were excluded from the rest of the school.

One night, she wakes from a different kind of dream. She takes a second to remember it, and when she does a tingle runs down her spine.

She has to find Leo.

She spots him with Jason at the hearth, sharing a plate of tacos and rubbing his eyes, and makes a beeline for him.

Jason notices her first. "Hey, couldn't sleep?"

"No," Hazel says. "I had a dream."

"I couldn't seem to fall asleep, either," Jason admits.

"He needs a warm body next to him," Leo explains, "but he declined my offer to cuddle."

"And thank the gods I did, you didn't shut up all night." Jason smiles at him sweetly. "Who were you talking to?"

"Myself," says Leo without hesitation.

Jason doesn't bat an eyelid. "Was it a meaningful conversation?"

"Extremely," says Leo. "Held a whole debate and everything, I really got to hear both sides of the story."

Jason snorts. "At least I was lucky enough for it to have been only sleeptalking this time."

Leo frowns lightly. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you snore," Jason says, chuckling.

"I do not snore!"

"You don't just snore, you bray like a donkey with a sword buried in its ass," Jason says ruthlessly. To Hazel he informs, "When I first joined the Bunkers, my bed was pretty far from Leo's, but I could hear him like he was right next to me. He doesn't snore when he takes the potion, but I swear to god I'll never miss that sound again."

"Stop embarrassing me," Leo whines. "I've been told my snoring is cute."

"By who? Your mom?" Jason smirks.

"No, by yours," Leo fires back at once.

"My mom's stone deaf," Jason dismisses easily.

"Your mom's stone dead," Leo retaliates, and then they both grin at each other. Hazel stares between them cluelessly and thinks that she will never, ever understand boys.

"So, bad nightmare?" Jason asks, turning back to her.

"Kinda," Hazel answers, shrugging. "It was more confusing than scary, to be honest."

"Join the club," Leo groans, dragging his hand down his face. "This damn Dragon…"

"What?" Hazel asks, seating herself on a cushion and staring at him. "You had a dream about the Dragon, too?"

"Too?" Jason asks, interested.

Leo doesn't notice. "I just saw it roar. But it was weird, it looked right at me –"

"And it's eyes lit up," Hazel guesses. "Red?"

"How'd you know that," Leo demands, mouth agape. Jason offers her a taco and she nibbles on it.

"I had a similar dream," she confides, "if not the exact same one. Were you in a forest?"

"Yeah!" Leo gushes. "With a river running through it – oh no." He blanches. "White River Forest in Colorado. Percy's going to be so smug."

"Is that the point, though," Jason says, amused. "Leo, you have a real lead."

"And we both had the same dream, that's got to be a good sign," Leo says, nodding at Hazel. "I think this is our best shot – we should leave, like, tomorrow. What if the Dragon moves again?"

"Is that…allowed?" Hazel wonders. "What about the spheres?"

"I'll ask Beckendorf in the morning, but I think he should be able to take care of it." He stands up and paces. "Jason, you'll be fine, right?"

"Leave me some tacos and I'll be set," Jason smiles. He looks almost…relieved.

Leo gazes at her earnestly. "Hazel, this could be it. I've been dreaming about the Dragon for months, and I've wanted to build one ever since I saw the plans in Nine. But – I just want to make sure…we could wait, until Frank and the others are back. Are you okay with this? Are you in?"

Gazing into his eyes, she can't find a reason to refuse him.

"Yes," she nods. "I'm in."

/

Percy is beginning to resent the hope that seems to have taken up permanent residence in Annabeth.

She seems to be walking on clouds the entire time. Percy notices her gaze always fixed ahead, her mouth pressed into a thin line of determination, like she's willing Luke to show up in front of them, miraculously good again.

And then they'll both live happily ever after, he thinks bitterly, stabbing a leaf with his sword so savagely that Piper jumps. Her expression melts quickly into one of understanding, though, and Percy feels a surge of gratitude because Piper, like him, is mostly on this Quest to make sure Annabeth doesn't do anything stupid, like run up to Luke and kiss him –

It takes a lot of effort to push the image from his mind. He must look terrifying, because Frank takes one look at his face and scoots away, poking his spear into the fire. Annabeth sits on Frank's other side, patching up a tear in her hoodie and humming softly.

"Does this mean I'm on dinner duty again?" Percy grumbles.

"As long as it's not Annabeth," Piper says.

Annabeth sits bolt upright. "I'm not that bad!"

"You once made those weird burgers from rabbit meat, and I'm a vegetarian," Piper recalls with a very realistic shudder. "You nearly killed me."

"I was fifteen," Annabeth groans. "And we'd just met, I didn't know you were a vegetarian!"

"That wasn't the only problem with it."

"Well, sue me, I didn't know the meat was raw, okay? It looked brown on the outside, how was I to know I had to check in the middle-"

Piper snorts and stands up. "I'm going to get more firewood."

"Sure," Annabeth says absently, still glaring, though her attention is back on the clothes in her hands.

"Cool." Piper looks at Percy. "Perce, you coming?"

"Yes," he says, grateful for something to do and glad he won't have to look at Annabeth's face any more, which, now that she's not mad at Piper anymore, is bright with anticipation again.

They walk past where the pegasi are resting for the night – Percy lets Blackjack nuzzle his neck, and Piper feeds Guido a piece of apple. There's plenty of firewood nearby, but Piper leads him further away, only stopping when they reach the gurgling little brook where they'd washed up earlier. She sits on a rock, and Percy follows suit. She must've come this far to make sure they wouldn't be heard.

"Piper," Percy acknowledges solemnly with a nod of his head.

"Percy," she says, drawing out the word in a mockery of his own tone, and he rolls his eyes, reaches his hand out to a nearby branch, and flings a shoddily formed ball of leaves straight at her face in retaliation.

"So what did you want to talk about?" he asks, in a voice that comes out sounding thread and querulous, the sort a very old person might make. Piper looks at him incredulously for a second before bursting into laughter, sharp barks of delighted, playful surprise.

"I'm cold!" Percy whines in protest, and luckily enough Piper shakes her head in amusement, letting the matter drop, but there's still a slightly mischievous glitter to her eyes that makes it clear that she's definitely going to be relaying this story to the others when they rejoin them at the camp.

"You sounded like this old teacher Leo and I had, Mrs. Dodds," Piper wheezes, and Percy's indignation melts at the sight of her wiping actual tears from her eyes, and the admittedly hilarious memory of the sound that had just escaped his throat makes him laugh a little, too.

"It was your idea to drag me away from the fire," he says, mostly just to make a point, because it's one of those nights where no one in their right mind would spend the night outside unless it was necessary. Then again, he reflects, it's not like they have much of a choice.

Piper giggles again and Percy shoves at her, but she sobers quickly after that, biting her lips as though thinking hard.

"I hate this whole situation," she confesses after a second, looking his way worriedly. "Annabeth isn't being herself."

"You're telling me." Percy brings up his hand and the water follows his fingers, covering all his scars and filling him with a sense of cool, refreshing relief. He'd spent the two days before departing on the Quest trying to get Annabeth to see reason, but she hadn't budged. She hadn't even been willing to listen. Percy had given up after a point, mostly because he could tell Annabeth was going to yell at him if he pushed the matter any more.

It was the first time he'd really felt angry at her. Even the times when he'd just got to Nine - when she'd treated him like an outcast – seemed trivial in comparison.

"What do you think?" Piper asks. "About Luke, I mean."

"I don't trust him," Percy says bluntly. "Like you said, even if he was being blackmailed all this time, it doesn't automatically pardon him for everything he's done."

"Exactly," she agrees, rubbing at her lips with her fingers. "That's the thing. It's so fucking obvious – and Annabeth is turning a blind eye. It's not like her. She's the most logical, level-headed person I know, but when it comes to Luke…well-"

Percy exhales, feeling for a brief moment the magic in his blood heat up in him, filling in all his gaps and keeping him connected to the water around him. It feels unreal, pulsing from his fingertips in a shimmering, invisible force that seems to touch every single drop, bend it to his will.

"People in love do stupid things," Percy says, and the water trickles back down to the stream with a plop.

Piper gazes at him with something resembling pity.

"Did she say that?" she asks.

"Yeah," Percy admits, and Piper whistles lowly. "I just – I get why she's so attached to Luke. But I think she's holding onto to someone who doesn't even exist anymore."

"Oh, she's doing that for sure," Piper agrees easily, bending down and sticking her hand into the water. She shivers. "I'm not going to pretend to know everything that goes on in that big brain of hers. She could love Luke as a sister, or as a friend. But she was definitely crushing on him. Pretty hard, I might add."

"Figured as much," Percy replies, exhaling. "And now her feelings for him are clouding her judgement."

Piper nods. In the breeze that alleviates the silence settling between them, Percy goes back to studying the water, and Piper braids and unbraids a section of her hair absentmindedly.

"You had to have seen her to understand," she says quietly. "She hero-worshipped the dude. And – well. I'll admit it, he was pretty hot, if you like the mysterious-aura thing. But he was a great swordsman. And he did genuinely seem to like Annabeth – in what way, I don't know, but he and Annabeth and Thalia – they were tight, dude. He acted a little suspicious and off at times, especially after he failed his Quest, but if there was one thing I was sure of, it was that he wouldn't leave Annabeth or Thalia."

Percy hums. "Annabeth must've thought that, too."

"It broke her a little," Piper admits. "She'd hold it in, but she would cry at night alone when she thought I was asleep. You know her. She doesn't accept help easily. She'd probably think I was pitying her."

"Yeah," Percy agrees, remembering Annabeth telling him how hard it had been for her. "I don't think you could've done much else."

"I get it," Piper says. "I do. We're all here for a reason. We all left family – or family left us. I don't think I know a single demigod in the Bunkers who hasn't gone through some kind of hardship. And in Annabeth's case…she's definitely been through more than most, which is saying something. I think…with Thalia gone, with her dad estranged from her – I think she's poured every ounce of love, and hope, and trust in Luke. Maybe she did it unconsciously, but more than anything she wants to believe he isn't evil because she loves him – and it isn't going to end well."

"It'll break her all over again," Percy realizes, going cold all over.

"Yeah," Piper agrees. She pinches her nose. "Gods, when he left – I was kind of happy, which might make me a shitty friend, but he just seemed so toxic, and she was blind to all the weird shit he was pulling." She kicks at a pebble kind of helplessly. "I just assumed she was over Luke."

"Especially after our last Quest," he adds. "The pile of evidence against him is pretty extensive."

"I don't know if you know this," she informs him. Her eyes are tiny slits. "A long time ago, before I joined the Bunkers - Luke went on this Quest to get a golden apple from the garden of the Hesperides. Anyone who eats the apple is granted good fortune and immense strength – we meant for Thalia to have it."

"But Luke failed."

"Yeah. I don't think he meant to do it on purpose. But that's the Quest that gave him his scar." She traces a finger down the side of her face. "The guardian of the tree – a dragon – gave it to him. But after that, Luke refused to go on any more Quests. He even said no to Annabeth when she got her first Quest to lead a team through the Labyrinth. But he began to take a lot of scouting missions – which was suspicious because we had satyrs back then to do just that.

"Here's the catch." Piper pauses. "There are a few exceptions, but most of the demigods he brought back defected during the War."

"Shit," Percy bursts out. "So he was probably working with the Titans for a long time."

"You heard May," Piper nods. "He was meeting up with Prometheus during his so-called missions. He met his father and didn't tell anyone – and shit like that is a big deal, especially because these were times when demigods were lucky to be claimed at all. The gods were too weak to worry about us."

"He wasn't in the Bunkers when Thalia and Annabeth and Grover were on their quest," Percy remembers. "But he showed up at his mom's place right after and met Prometheus again –"

"-And gave him something." Piper bites her bottom lip. "I was kind of hoping he was being threatened by the Titans, to be honest. For Annabeth's sake. But there's no way he's innocent, Percy."

She is watching him with a steady gaze, no trace of humour on her face. Maybe she knows what it's going to cost if them if they don't watch out for Annabeth, even if she doesn't want them to. Maybe she wants Percy to understand what might be coming next.

Either way, it gives him the push he needs to finally verbalise the questions that have been niggling at the back of his mind ever since Annabeth told him about Luke.

"Do you think…" he takes a breath. "Do you think she'll choose him over us, if it comes to that?"

Piper looks miserable. "I don't know. And usually with Annabeth, I know what she's going to do. That's why this scares me so much. Her feelings for Luke are a total unknown – I mean, if he turns out to be evil, I still don't think she'll have the heart to give up on him, y'know?"

Percy can't find any words, so he just nods, mute.

"It's okay," Piper whispers, very evidently trying to convince herself. "It's Annabeth. She'll be fine."

"And if it's a trap?"

Piper shrugs.

"You're supposed to be more comforting than that," Percy whines. "But why do you think he's being forced to hold up the sky in the first place, anyway?"

"Are we sure he's being forced?" Piper questions, raising her shoulders and eyebrows at the same time.

"Annabeth's got a point about this, though – nobody would do it willingly, would they?" Percy shrugs.

Piper shakes her head, confused. "If I'm being optimistic about it, I'd say Luke changed his mind about the Titans. Maybe they found out and decided to punish him."

"And if you're being pessimistic?" Percy dares.

She takes a breath. "Whatever happens, we've just got to protect Annabeth."

"What are you thinking?"

"All kinds of things," she admits. "And none of them are good."

/

Questing with Hazel is just about as awkward as Leo had expected it to be.

They take the Labyrinth, which makes sense, because Hazel's the underground genius, and they'll get to Colorado faster this way. Problem is Leo has to use his fire to light the way, which results in him walking through the paths like a normal person, while Hazel practically ends up hugging the walls like a total nut.

"How about we take a break on the surface for a while?" he suggests, just to offer her some fresh air and more room to get away from him.

Hazel pauses and stares up at the ceiling. "Sure. We're pretty close to a town – we can walk overland the rest of the way."

"I hope they have a Chipotle," Leo groans.

Dutifully, Hazel leads them up the next path to the surface. They emerge in what must be a thicket of woods on the outskirts of the town, and luckily there's nobody around, because Leo literally pops out of the ground and walks into a tree.

Hazel stifles a smile as she clambers from the entrance, but otherwise offers nothing more. She waves a hand, and a thin layer of soil rolls over the gaping hole in the ground, effectively hiding the tunnel from sight.

They make their way to the main town in silence, and it sucks because Leo's ADHD is acting up and he really wants to say something. Anything to dispel this oppressive air of awkwardness hanging over their heads.

He's disappointed. Hazel had seemed to warm up to him a little with Frank gone, but now it looks like she's fallen back into her old habits of avoiding him as much as possible. And sure, Leo's nursing a teeny crush on her, and Hazel is gorgeous, but the attitude? It's kind of a turn-off, especially since Leo has done nothing to make her uncomfortable as far as he's aware, other than using fire, and that was only because it had been necessary.

So he bites his tongue and trudges on ahead.

The town is the kind Annabeth would approve a supply run to. It's secluded, about three-quarters of the way to Colorado, and gives off the vibe that only old people live there, but it's got a Walmart and a mechanic's store and all the essentials. Easy to steal from. When Leo and Hazel pass the fire station, they're hailed over by an fireman with a big bushy moustache. They freeze, but the officer only asks them if they're new in town.

"Just passing through," Leo says, grinning. He knows he can be annoying, but Piper had once told him he could be charming if he didn't go off on one of his usual rambles, and so he keeps his explanation short and sweet. "We're on a backpacking trip before college. We figured it was our last chance to explore the country before losing our minds to Mechanical Engineering."

The man's eyes soften. "My son is studying to be a Chemical Engineer, and all I get when he takes the time to FaceTime me is complaining. You kids have fun."

And then he points them to the town's Chipotle.

Hazel grabs his arm. "Leo, do you think we should get some supplies from the grocery store first?"

Leo stares at her. It's the first time she's voluntarily talked to him without being prompted this entire time.

Hazel's eyes turn confused, and he quickly schools his face into polite interest again and takes a second to take a steadying breath as he realises that, oh, she's asking his opinion like it matters to her.

"Um," he says helpfully.

"Yes?"

"Food first?" he asks, wondering if she's going to start a fight, but Hazel only nods easily. Leo can't help the grin that splits across his face.

He practically runs down the street, talking so fast his lips begin to hurt. He's craving a burrito so bad he completely forgets he's supposed to be mad at Hazel. "Oh man Hazel, you gotta try a burrito? Have you ever had one? Oh, and I'll buy you a quesadilla, you haven't lived till you have cheese running all over my face."

"Sounds unhygienic," says Hazel. "And what exactly do you mean by you'll buy me one? We don't have any money."

Leo looks at her hopefully. "Do you think you can bring up a few dollars from the bank down under?" he taps the ground with his foot.

"No," says Hazel immediately, looking scandalized that he's even suggested it.

"Fine," he shrugs. "We'll use the Mist."

Leo inhales deeply when they get to the Chipotle. "Smells like cheap Mexican food. It's calling to me."

Hazel lets out a giggle at this, and Leo can't help laughing back, inordinately pleased at having gotten something out of her other than fear and discomfort.

She meets his gaze, now, looking up at him through eyelashes that seem to catch the sunlight and make her eyes shine. Her lips quirk up to the point where it has to be qualified as a real smile, and in his distraction Leo notices too late that he's walked right past the food joint and he has to double back, and Hazel's tiny smile then blossoms into an outright grin that makes his cheeks hurt when he attempts to mirror it.

He pushes the door open. The place is empty – Leo wants to cry at his good luck. No waiting in line to order, no waiting for his order to be called out. There's a middle-aged woman with thinning hair manning the register. Leo stalks up to her confidently.

"Leo," Hazel whispers.

"Don't worry, I'm good at the Mist," Leo tells her under his breath. To the lady behind the counter, he says brightly, "Good afternoon to you, ma'am!"

"Leo, it's not going to work," Hazel says urgently, grabbing his arm and yanking, and Leo would be thrilled at the contact if only it weren't for the fact that she was totally blowing their cover.

He jerks himself free, gazes the lady right in the eye – eye? – and snaps his fingers.

"Could you get us two burritos – with white rice, black beans, chicken, some of the spicy salsa, cheese, guac…and why not some lettuce, too," he says generously. "Also two large Cokes. And you don't need to worry about the payment, we've already paid."

The woman blinks.

Leo blinks.

"You haven't paid me jack, boy," she says, a terrible smile stretching across her face, and it's only then that Leo notices the single eye in in the centre of her forehead.

"Shit fuck," he says.

"Leo, let's go," Hazel yells, dragging his arm, and this time Leo goes willingly. He's caught between laughing and crying. All he'd wanted was a burrito.

Of course their escape is unsuccessful. With a roar, the lady cyclops grabs the entire cash register and throws it at the door. It sails over their heads and slams against the door with an almighty bang, and they stop in their tracks. Leo's chest constricts painfully. He can't die in a Chipotle he didn't even eat in. That's just cruel.

They turn to face the cyclops just as she bears down on them, snarling. Leo grabs a hammer from his toolbelt and swings wildly. Hazel unsheathes her sword.

"I could smell the demigod blood the moment you entered this town," the cyclops snarls.

"But we practically bathed ourselves in Axe!" Leo complains. "You mean we went through all that for nothing?"

Hazel makes to stab the cyclops. She casts Leo an infuriated look. "Why are you talking to it?"

"It's a thing I do," Leo explains. "You gotta distract them to defeat them – woah!" He jumps and rolls over the closest table as the cyclops strikes with her huge, hairy arms – how had Leo not noticed before, oh gods – and roars again. Her Chipotle apron now hangs off her shoulder.

"Who's distracted now?" Hazel demands as she rolls under the cyclops's legs and jabs at its ankle. The monster roars. She sounds ridiculously like Annabeth as she orders, "Less talking, more fighting!"

Leo chucks his hammer at the cyclops' face and immediately withdraws another one. "Look, I have a plan. Distract, then deviate."

"What?" Hazel shrieks, rolling away as the cyclops tries to stomp her flat.

"Basically you distract it first, and then when I say go, I'll distract it and you break through the window!" Leo shouts.

"How is that deviating?"

"I couldn't think of another word starting with D!" Leo thinks hard, and then extracts two vials of kerosene from his tool belt. Hazel sticks close to the monster, keeping its attention on her by stabbing with her sword and occasionally yelling out taunts like, "Your attacks at disappointing!" which Leo figures must be the 1930s version of dissing.

Leo runs in a big circle around the cyclops, spilling the liquid over everything. When he's done he throws another vial at the back of the monster's head, where it shatters. Kerosene spills down her back.

"Smell that?" Leo crows – partly because the kerosene really does take over everything else. Then he sends a fireball at the monster. The cyclops's entire back goes up in flames – she bellows out something unholy.

Leo makes a dash for the closest window. "Hazel, where are you?" he screams, because she's just standing there, motionless, watching the flaming monster write around the store, almost cartoon-like. Leo isn't going to lie, it's some of his best work. The place is ablaze, most of the damage done by his fire, the flames having turned a lot of the furniture into nothing more than charred versions of their formers selves, but Hazel's put in some work, too, carving slashes into the floor and the monster's flesh.

He'd love to stick around to watch, but – "Hazel, I doused the entire store in kerosene! She's going to hit some soon and –" He trails off as the cyclops stumbles into a chair and sets it on fire. Hazel gets the hint and runs for him.

Leo extracts another hammer and smashes through the window, tumbling into a bush and onto the pavement. Hazel jumps through like a goddamn gazelle and sprints right past him, turning around to scream at him to "Keep up! Cyclopes are fireproof! She won't be down for long!"

"Don't I know it!" Leo howls, running hard to catch up with her. They run through the tiny little town, smelling of smoke and oil and making passers-by stare. They dodge the police station and don't stop running until they get back to the forest where they'd come from.

Hazel collapses onto the ground, wheezing and clutching her stomach. "That was horrible," she pants. "Let's never do that again."

"Seconded," Leo agrees easily, falling next to her and rolling onto his back. He gulps the air, heaving embarrassingly in an effort to catch his breath.

He almost wants to laugh. "We should've hit the Walmart first."

"I hate you," Hazel deadpans, and they both begin to laugh a bit hysterically – Leo forgets to breathe all over again and begins to choke, which only makes Hazel lose it again. She's pretty when she laughs, and her eyes sparkle like gold coins. Belatedly Leo wonders if he was the only one who heard his heart stop, and then restart at an unnatural rate.

Finally he calms down. Hazel lies on her back, her arms spread wide at her sides. She smiles up at the sun, and Leo's breath catches.

She sits up with difficulty and opens her backpack, producing an entire box of granola bars, followed by some fruit, a bottle of mouthwash, her water bottle, and a blanket.

"Damn, did you enchant that with an Undetectable Extension Charm like Hermione?" Leo jokes, but Hazel only stares at him blankly.

"What the hell are you? Mary Poppins?" he tries, but when her emotionless expression morphs into something like mild concern for his health, he sighs out a, "Never mind."

"It's lucky we still have some food left, because that of yours was the worst," she tells him solemnly, and Leo snorts.

"It was the best plan," he says. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Next time, save the explanation and just scream fire!" she says, grinning. "It would save time, don't you think?"

She's smiling, but Leo's mind has stuttered to a halt. He remembers chucking the fire at the monster's face, and Hazel hadn't even flinched, not even when the cyclops went around setting the entire outlet up in flames. She'd even stood and watched in admiration as the flames crept up the monster's back.

"Hazel," he says slowly, and she turns to him, smiling still. "You're afraid of fire."

She freezes. The smile slides off her face, and her gaze drops away from his before coming back up again, but they trace the outline of his body rather than him.

"No," she says. "No, I'm not."

/

Hazel feels like a colossal fool.

She swallows thickly as she awaits the inevitable return of her thoughts; they seemed to have migrated somewhere south of her brain and don't seem to be coming back anytime soon. She can't believe she'd given herself – and thus, Frank – so easily.

More than that, she feels like horrible for lying. It had been a bad idea to begin with, and she's quite surprised it had held up for this long, but guilt consumes her as Leo shakes his head at her, his expression full of disgust and hurt.

She understands why he's angry, but she hadn't quite counted on him looking this sad about it. He looks dismal, gut-wrenched. He can't quite meet her eyes. There's a knot sized ball of shame caught in her throat, and it takes her a few coughs for her to be able to clear it away and speak.

"I'm sorry," she says, lacing her fingers together and staring at them. "I – I didn't mean to hurt you by it. It's just…"

"Just what?" Leo asks, raising his eyebrows at her. "Just what? I mean, forgive me, but I'd thought that it was because of your supposed fear of fire –" he rolls his eyes – "that you were, you know, avoiding me the way you were, even though you basically made it a point to rub it in that it was only me you were taking such…such drastic measures to snub. And I let it go. I gave you space, and I didn't overstep any lines, even though it kind of really hurt that you seemed to hate me so much without any real reason."

Oh, Hazel thinks, and it's as though a stone has settled in her belly.

"And don't even get me started on Frank," Leo goes on agitatedly, and Hazel winces, because even though she understands where Frank is coming from and it isn't her place to explain, she does have to agree that he'd been overly unfriendly to Leo. She knows why this is, of course: Frank lashes out when he is afraid, and she knows that Leo's very existence rattles him.

It doesn't excuse his behaviour, though – and Hazel hadn't done anything to stop him, which only makes her feel worse.

She tries to tell herself that she had been so focused on keeping Frank and the firewood safe that it hadn't even occurred to her that Leo might have been affected by her admittedly dreadful behaviour. Only she cannot deny the truth to herself just to make herself feel better for much longer. She's been sidestepping Leo for entirely selfish reasons, and she'd be lying to herself if she said she hadn't noticed how hard Leo had tried to make her feel welcome at Bunker Nine, and how his face would face every time she rejected his friendly invitations.

Frank – at least he has a legitimate excuse. Hazel's only defense is that Leo looks exactly like her old – friend? Flame? Crush? – to the point where it is eerie. Leaving Sammy behind, against her will though it might have been, is still one of the biggest regrets of her life – she'd thought of him constantly even in her new home, and often, when she'd been on the verge of passing out in the act of dragging Kronos' tomb to the surface, it had been the memory of Sammy's wide, guileless smile that had kept her going.

She'd evaded Leo because – she isn't sure anymore. Maybe she's scared that there isn't a legitimate connection between him and Sammy after all. Maybe she's scared that there is.

After all, she has Frank now. And she is happy, genuinely, honestly, sincerely happy with him. Frank makes her feel loved in a way she hasn't felt in a long, long time – but the fact remains that Sammy had been the first person to make her feel like she was really needed. He'd been her best friend, her first friend, her support system, her confidante. He would make her laugh when she cried about the mean kids in school, sneak her chocolates in class, and walk her back home every day.

Hazel had loved him in whatever meagre way she could. She hadn't wanted to kiss him or anything – for gods' sakes, she'd been ten years old – but she had known with unflinching certainty that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. He would say it often, too, to make her blush – stuff like "Hazel, you look pretty in that white dress. You're going to have to wear it all the time when we're married." And Hazel would respond with something like, "I'll wear whatever I like and you won't say a word because you know you'd be lucky to have me as a wife in the first place." Then they would both laugh and race to the courtyard.

Sammy made her feel like a real person where, with her mother, she felt largely used, a conduit between the earth and the overworld. Sammy hadn't cared about her powers. He'd thought her all the more amazing for them, in fact, and he hadn't touched a single gemstone when she told him not to. His only question was if she would take him with her when she made a fortune off the gold and diamonds and bought a huge mansion in the big city.

She loved Sammy. She still does, in a way, even though it's been seventy years and he is probably long gone. But she does care for Frank, even if she isn't quite sure if the intensity of her feelings can be considered love. And Leo – Leo is a painful reminder of all that she has lost.

"Hazel," Leo snaps, grabbing her hand tightly. His mouth is still turned downward in disapproval, but his brows are knit together in concern. "Hazel, stay with me."

Hazel blinks rapidly as the world comes into focus around her, and she realizes she'd been on the verge of slipping into a flashback. She exhales shakily. "Thanks."

Leo releases her hand and nods.

She gazes at him. Sammy had always told her to be brave.

Maybe it's time to take that step.

"Leo, I'm sorry," she says, mustering up every last drop of courage and sincerity in her. "I really didn't mean to hurt you. I was being…thoughtless, and selfish, and it was wrong of me, and it wasn't fair to you at all."

She takes a breath. "I avoided you because…you remind me of someone from my past."

The anger slowly drains from his eyes. "Oh."

"His name was Sammy." She watches him closely. "Sammy Valdez. Do you know him?"

His eyes widen and he runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah. The name – yeah. He was my bisabuelo – my great granddad. But Hazel, what -"

She sighs, her lips trembling. Here it is, here is the connection she's been losing her mind over. Leo had said was – Sammy is dead.

Leo isn't his reincarnation, he's his descendant. Sammy had moved on from her, started a family. Had kids, grandkids. She doesn't know what to think. She's happy for him, of course. It wouldn't have been right for him to waste his life away wondering about her. She hadn't expected him to, and she had never wanted him to do that. But still –

Do you promise to make me chicken roasts every day when we're married, Hazel?

When we're married, I'll keep all the chicken roasts for myself and make you eat broccoli.

But I hate broccoli!

Well, you'd better start liking it, because that's all you're going to get when we're husband and wife.

"Don't cry," Leo says suddenly, stricken.

"I'm not," Hazel says, bamboozled, before touching under her eyes and finding that, in fact, she is crying, and with quite some force behind it, too. "Oh."

"Did he mean a lot to you?" Leo asks quietly, his fingers twitching as though he wants to hold her hand, but he doesn't move.

"He was my…friend," Hazel says shortly, unable to bring herself to lie again, blinking the tears away and sniffing loudly. Friend is really watering down all the different things Sammy was to her, but something in Leo's expression cracks, and she gets the feeling he understands.

"That's why I kept catching you looking at me," he accuses, realization dawning on him; his eyes grow wide and he lets out a stunned bark of laughter. "You were trying to figure out how we were related?"

"Or if you were a reincarnation," Hazel admits, and Leo smiles.

"If it helps, you weren't wrong. Everyone would call me Sammy Lite when I was a kid," he says. "Apparently we looked the same, we pulled the same pranks, talked the same –"

"It's uncanny," Hazel agrees fervently, and Leo laughs again.

"I'll have to take your word for it." He stares at her intently for a second. "He wasn't just a friend to you, was he?"

"No," she confesses, squeezing her eyes shut. She shakes her head so fast she gets a little dizzy. Tears drip onto her faded grey jeans. "He was…everything to me, Leo. And I had to leave him behind."

Leo is silent for a minute, drumming his fingers against his knee. "I'm sorry, Hazel."

She shrugs, tugging at the frayed end of her sleeve. "It's okay."

"It's never easy to lose someone you love." Leo looks at her quickly, and then fixes his gaze on the treetops. "But is that why you avoided me? Because…the same things you felt about Sammy…did you feel them about me, too?"

He says it lightly, like he doesn't really care, but it's worded carefully, and Hazel senses a great deal of weight behind them. Her face heats up in embarrassment at the implication, but she takes a moment to think about it, really think about it.

She loves Sammy, but it is a faded love for the boy she had lost at best – there is no way for her to get those times back, and to be honest, she isn't sure she really wants to. She has Frank, and he is all she needs.

She doesn't feel the same way about Leo, and that is for sure. She feels a bond for sure – she would love to put this awkwardness behind them and learn to become his friend, because she can tell, judging by the way he is around Piper and Jason, that he really is a wonderful person to have at your side.

"It isn't like that," she tells him, with equal caution. She doesn't want to hurt him any more than she already has. "I was just…confused, I suppose. But…it wasn't like that. I'm sorry. I mean, Frank –"

Leo nods like he'd been expecting it. He grins, but Hazel spots the flash of disappointment flicker behind it.

"So are you two dating?" he asks with what looks to be nothing more than true curiosity, until she sees his smile straining to remain in place in an effort to make him appear earnest, almost desperate for her to believe him. Hazel feels a pang and thinks belatedly that he's a far better actor than she'd originally taken him for, but she doesn't say it aloud.

"Yes," she says with certainty. Then she blanches. "Well, we're somewhere there, I think. Why, was it not obvious?"

This makes Leo laugh aloud. "To be honest, it really wasn't. That's why I thought Frank hated me, you know – that day we met I couldn't stop staring at you, and he definitely noticed."

"You what?" Hazel can't believe her ears. "When?"

"All the time," Leo laughs, shaking his head in disbelief at the same time. "I thought you noticed, too!"

"I definitely didn't," she assures him faintly.

"I didn't mean to," Leo defends lightly, placing his arms behind him on the ground and leaning against them. "I'm just…awkward around people I like. I flirt – badly. I'm weird like that, but if I ever made you uncomfortable, I really am sorry…and hey." He nods at her. "Now that I know you're with Frank, I promise you won't hear of this again."

"You never made me uncomfortable," she assures him. "And as for Frank…well –" Forgive me, Frank, she thinks, grasping around in her pocket for the little package and clenching it tightly in her fist – "he's the one who's afraid of fire, not me. It's kind of a sore subject with him. That's the real reason I lied. I just didn't want anyone to ask him any questions."

"Gods." Leo exhales and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I totally get that. I just wish you guys had told me."

"Like I said –"

"You didn't want people butting in your business. I get that. I get that. And it's not like you knew me well enough to say." He shakes his head. "I feel like I've been judging you both really unfairly now. Damn."

"I mean, we gave you a reason to, so it's mostly on us." She thinks about it. "Me."

"But still." He chuckles a little incredulously. "I can't believe it. I really thought he had a crush on you and was trying to intimidate me or something."

"We're…in a relationship, or at least I'd like to be," she confirms, even though her ears heat up even as she says it. "But…I guess we never really talked about it before. I mean, he kissed me –" Her voice goes all high-pitched, and Leo shakes with laughter – "but…I'm not very comfortable with…I don't know. I can't be like how Jason and Piper are with each other."

"So sickeningly touchy-feely and adorable that it makes you half want to puke and half want to put them away in a box and keep them forever?" Leo asks with a grim kind of understanding, and Hazel chokes out a laugh.

"Yes, exactly," she agrees. Leo's mouth starts to curve back into a grin, and Hazel barrels on without thinking, spurred on by his smile. "I wish I could be like that with Frank, to show him how much I really care, but…we never talked about our romantic status much. And I'm scared I'll say something stupid and mess it up."

And she really, truly doesn't want to mess it up. She recalls all their interactions over the past months, and it is full of magic and wide eyes and soft words and gentle touches as they've journeyed through plains and cities and forests and even the skies. She remembers holding his hand as they relaxed by a pond under the clear blue sky and the memory reminds her of just how much she appreciates and likes Frank, reminds her of all the hopes she has for their budding relationship.

There are times she sometimes thinks that one day, Frank is going to grow tired of waiting for her to adjust, and it makes her heart clench tightly – but then she remembers all their late night talks, how Frank had wanted to know everything about her powers and her past. Which only makes the fact that she'd withheld her time with Sammy even more of a stab in the back for him.

Frank had first found Hazel trying her hardest to unearth a path to New Rome. He'd been separated from his group while on a scouting mission, and he very easily could've ignored her, but instead of leaving her to her own devices he'd offered to help. They'd been two demigods who just wanted to get home, but over time they'd found it in each other.

She'd grown to trust him more than anyone, and so she had been worried about revealing her past to him. Frank and Hazel differed in just about every aspect there was and she'd been terrified to see how he'd react when he found out that the one thing they did have in common – the very fact that they were both alive – wasn't entirely true.

But he hadn't dumped her to the side of the road like yesterday's trash, He'd been shocked, but once that had worn off he had wanted to know everything about her and her magic. He'd been awed by her capabilities and had assured her that just as Kronos had nearly made her commit a grave error, she was also capable of doing incredibly good deeds with her powers. Her powers were not inherently evil simply because Hazel was a good person, he'd explained. They were simply a part of her, and she could use them as a tool to do good in the world.

And he'd told her about his own life – about his kind mother and stern grandmother. He told her about how his own life dangled precariously between the living and the dead. And then he'd entrusted her with the piece of wood that his very life depended on, displaying an extraordinary faith in her that she still isn't sure she deserves.

He never crossed any lines with her. He never asked her overly intrusive questions, always changing the topic whenever they got close too something that made her uncomfortable. And he was always so respectful of her and her emotions – his offering to wait for her to become adjusted to physical contact and the idea of dating someone only proved it. And she wants to date him so, so badly. She wants him to know that she will be there for him the same way he's always been there for her as a friend and a pillar of constant support. But she isn't bold. She isn't used to being asked about her feelings, and she's even less used to acting on them.

"Hey," Leo murmurs softly. Gently he places his hand on her knee, making sure his fingers don't touch the bare skin exposed through the rips of the jeans. "I'm no son of Aphrodite, but I think you should really be honest with him and talk about all this stuff you just told me. He'll understand. He's waited for you this long – he'll probably be overjoyed if you say you want to date him."

"Be honest," she echoes. "I don't know, Leo. I mean, I haven't even told him about Sammy."

"Well, maybe you should," he encourages gently. "Like I said, he'll understand that you had a past that he wasn't a part of. You hadn't even met him then. You weren't even in the same time period. He can't get jealous about that."

"I've wanted to tell him for so long," she says desperately. "But I could never really find a good time, and…and the longer I want without saying anything, the harder it became to say something. I'd prepared to just…forget about Sammy, but then-"

"Me," Leo guesses.

"You threw a wrench in my plans," she says, and Leo chuckles. He shoots her a glare that she can tell is fake, because there is no real heat behind it.

"I'm a mechanic. It's my job to use wrenches, not stick them in places they don't belong." Leo taps his fingers against his knee again in a random pattern. "But I'm sorry if I ever acted shitty to you, even though, in my defense, you were acting so oddly that I just…felt the need to try and calm you down with bad jokes and puns to overcompensate."

"Does that mean you think I'm odd too?" The question slips out before she can stop herself, and makes her sound so insecure that she ducks her head, ashamed.

Leo tilts his head at her, surprised, but there's something like a smile playing at the edges of his lips – it is small, but definitely there, even as he considers the question is a surprising amount of dedication.

"Well, there's something about you for sure," he says finally, mouth pulled into a friendly grin, and so she decides it's a compliment.

"You know, I'm glad we had this talk. You're a really cool girl, Hazel. Frank's a lucky guy. And so was Sammy."

"Oh," she says, startled and pleased all at once. "Thank you. And I really am sorry about –"

"No, no, it's cool. I got it," says Leo quickly, looking like he's forcing a smile. "Don't worry about it."

She bites her lip, squeezing her eyes shut. "Leo-"

"It doesn't mean we still can't be friends," Leo soldiers on, seemingly determined to keep talking. "I can the Spock to your Kirk. The Scully to your Mulder. The Sam to your Frodo. The-"

"The pain to my butt?" Hazel suggests and then she claps her hands over her mouth at once. "Oh gods! I'm so sorry," she apologizes, but her heart lurches in a kind of painfully relieved when she sees how hard he is laughing.

"Now you're getting it," he says approvingly. "I knew we'd rub off on you eventually. Come on, lemme teach you more bad words for you to scare Frank when we get back."

"Not a chance!" she admonishes. "You, Leo Valdez, are a horrible influence."

"I'm sure I am," he says with a kind of unconvincing hurt, but she can't help noticing that Leo looks – tired, now that his anger from before has faded. He rolls his shoulders back as though they're sore from the fight from earlier, and Hazel finally allows herself to relax, too. Her arms and legs are a little sore from all the walking, and there's a faint buzzing in her ears that can't be normal. She needs to sleep.

Leo is bent over his backpack, searching for something. A moment later, he resurfaces, holding out half eaten packet of colourful sweets that Hazel recognizes as being the ones he'd been chewing on during the journey.

He proffers it to Hazel.

"No, thank you," she says politely. The sweets are all the colors and shaped like little bears. They remind her of Frank.

Leo's face falls.

Hazel takes one.

"Thank you," she says.

"They're just gummy bears," Leo shrugs. "No big deal."

"No - thank you for listening to me," she clarifies, still disarmed and flustered by his sudden praise from earlier. Nobody has ever called her cool before. "I'm glad, too. And I really would like to be your friend."

"Like how you were friends with my bisabuelo?" Leo banters, waggling his eyebrows. Then he groans and buries his face in his hands. "See what I mean about the flirting when I'm nervous? Just ignore me."

"Alright, if you insist," Hazel says, amused. She finally musters up the courage to pat him lightly on the knee. "You know, I thought you were a lot like Sammy, but now that I've talked to you I can tell the differences."

"What are they?"

"Well, for one, his flirty lines were far smoother than yours," she replies cheekily, and Leo plays along, gasping dramatically and placing an affronted hand over his heart.

"All the ladies love Leo," he informs her sniffily. "And technically, since you liked Sammy, that's a win for me. Bisabuelo got game!"

She doesn't recognize the phrase, but she gleans the meaning of it well enough and giggles behind her palms. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but it was just me he managed to charm. The other girls in school called him Hammy Sammy."

"I don't know what that means and I don't want to," Leo says firmly, though his eyes dance merrily. "But I don't believe you. I mean –" he gestures to his face – "look at this perfection."

"Sublime," Hazel agrees.

"And I've seen pictures of my biasabuela. Damn, they made a hot couple." Leo nods appreciatively before freezing. "Shit – I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine!" she reassures him quickly, leaning forward. "In fact – tell me more, if you don't mind. I'd like to know about Sammy's family. Your family."

He stares at her. "Really?"

"Of course."

"Well." Leo gazes upwards again. "I don't remember meeting him, of course, but he was still alive when I was a baby. Our family used to meet back then a lot for holidays, Christmas and New Year and stuff." He smiles a little sadly. "My mother always said she was his favorite of all his grandkids. Did you know he taught her Morse Code?"

"I didn't know Sammy knew Morse Code," she admits, sitting forward excitedly. "What else?"

"Well, I'll tell you how I started getting called Sammy Lite. One Christmas…"

She listens to him talk, and as he goes on the sadness melts from his face. Hazel listens attentively, drinking in his words like water on a hot day as the sun sinks towards the horizon surrounded by a medley of purples. It's a beautiful sight, but she relaxes, unable to focus on anything but his voice.

He begins to describe his family in more detail, imitating his aunt Rosa's severe expressions and his cousin's temper tantrums until Hazel is in fits of laughter.

The flashback overtakes her senses effortlessly she barely realizes what's happened.

In the dream, Hazel sees her old house, only the doors and windows are thrown open, clearly displaying that it's vacant. Hazel is about to step inside when she notices a lone figure kneeling in the backyard.

She makes her way towards him – and of course it's Sammy, running his fingers through the grass they'd spent so many days playing around in. Hazel aches for him, reaching her hand towards him, but it passes right through him and she bites her lip in frustration.

His entire body trembles and Hazel stifles a gasp when she realizes he's crying. She's never seen Sammy cry, not even when Mrs. Leer whipped out her wooden ruler and hit him on the back of his hand twenty times. Hazel cries, too, translucent tears that drip into the soil. Sammy doesn't cry. Sammy shouldn't cry – not for her.

She wants to touch him. She wants to reach him, give him a hug. Tell him it will be okay in the future, but she can't say a word, so she just stands beside him in silence.

After a while, Sammy wipes his eyes and gets to his feet. The whites of his eyes are bloodshot and puffy, like he hasn't been sleeping.

Suddenly is gaze is drawn to something small and glittering at her – Ghost Hazel's – feet. Hazel follows his line of sight; they both gasp as one.

It's a diamond, pure white and sparkling in the sunlight – but how? Hazel had definitely not been careless enough to leave one behind, and it's impossible for it to have appeared now, triggered by her presence even as a shade.

"Don't take it, Sammy," she moans, even as Sammy bends and picks it up, gazing at it reverently. He looks around as if more diamonds will appear.

"I'll keep this for you until we meet again," he says aloud, and Hazel lets loose an enormous sob at the sound of his voice. "Till then, Hazel."

She doesn't want to leave. She doesn't want to leave. "Sammy," she calls, but he just turns around and walks away.

"No," she whispers, sensing more than seeing the flashback beginning to wear away. She doesn't want to wake up – she wants to see Sammy again, talk to him, apologize –

Against her will, she feels herself waking up. It feels – warm, oddly. Too warm.

Hazel opens her eyes to a world on fire.

/

"Nine Big Macs," Annabeth tells the girl behind the counter cheerily, "but two without cheese. How much is that?" She waits a second, snapping her fingers loudly over the sound of the girl's deadpan response. "There you go."

"Wow, exact change. Thank you. Please wait for your order," the girl says, smiling blankly as she accepts the one dollar bill Annabeth hands to her. "Thanks for visiting McDonalds!"

Annabeth beams as they pick up their order and stalk right out the front door, calm as you please. Frank jogs up behind her, heaving a sigh of relief.

"I can't believe you pulled that off," he whispers, ever though there's nobody around them close enough to hear. Annabeth grins and waggles her fingers in response.

"Anything's possible when you can manipulate the Mist," she says.

"You're going to have to teach me," Frank replies, half in-awe. "I mean, I used to have to transform into some kind of wild animal to get people out of stores just so we could get what we need."

Annabeth can't help laughing. "What animal did you use?"

"A goose, most of the time," Frank admits. Annabeth laughs again.

"Terrifying," she says.

"If you lived in Canada, you'd understand," he says, grimacing. "So, back to camp?"

"Back to camp," Annabeth confirms. They've set up a makeshift campsite in an abandoned barn for now, where Percy and Piper are tending to the horses. The two of them have been awfully chummy lately, and Annabeth isn't jealous or anything, of course not, but she can't help thinking that they're up to something. She's caught them conversing silently while they're on their pegasi, and they stop talking every time she gets close enough. Recently it feels like they roll their eyes at her every time she opens her mouth. Their little group feels very much like a Percy-and-Piper versus Annabeth situation, with Frank refusing to take sides.

It's pissing her off a little. Well…maybe a lot. She knows Percy and Piper aren't fully convinced about Luke. They probably think she's being delusional or something.

Annabeth clenches her jaw. She knows they mean well, but they don't know a damn thing. And she isn't being delusional. Just – is it so wrong to hope for the best in people?

"Um, Annabeth…are you okay?" Frank asks worriedly, and she starts, smoothing her features over at once with what she hopes is a confident smile.

"Fine," she says. "Just a little nervous. I mean, we're almost to California."

It isn't a total lie, so Frank seems to believe it readily. He nods earnestly. "I understand. But as long as we keep our heads, I think we'll be okay."

"I think so, too," Annabeth says approvingly. She likes Frank; he seems like a gentle, quiet soul despite being built with the solidness of a tree trunk. He seems to have a good head on his shoulders, and he's a skilled warrior; he'd proved it during the surprise monster attack that had occurred the day before. He seems like he'd get along with just about anyone – except perhaps Leo, which is kind of weird – and there's just…something about him that makes her trust him at once. Maybe it's the earnest look in his eyes, or maybe it's the fact that when he smiles, his cheeks lift and turn his face momo-shaped. He's cute in the sense that she'd like to hug him and pat him on top of the head. He and Hazel complement each other nicely.

"Do you want to walk?" Frank asks, once they're alone. "I could transform into an eagle or something and get us back faster."

"You could," Annabeth says, biting her lip, "but I'd rather walk back, if you don't mind?"

"Not at all," he says, sounding kind of relieved. "I'm not that great a flyer yet, to be honest."

They walk side-by-side, Annabeth's eyes searching the horizon. Somewhere beyond those clouds is Mount Othrys, where Luke is.

She surmises that it must be just under a week since they first rode out from Nine. She is glad to have the pegasi, even though the vast expanse of sky scares her a little. It just makes her feel so exposed.

"Annabeth," Frank says abruptly, his gaze fixed on the gravel beneath their feet. "I want to talk to you about something."

"Shoot."

"What do you think about…the balances of power and weakness?" he asks hesitantly. It makes her pause.

"Where is this coming from?" she wonders aloud.

Frank colors a little, but he shakes his head like he doesn't want to talk about it, and so she relents, falling into step with him again.

"Well, it depends," she says thoughtfully. "What kind of weaknesses are we talking about? Is it physical? Emotional?"

"You could call it an Achilles heel," Frank says quietly.

Annabeth hesitates. "Well, that's something to think about, isn't it? I mean, on one hand, you're practically undefeatable. But on the other…"

"You could lose everything in one go," Frank completely quietly. "If you were facing a problem like that, what would you do?"

"Me?" Annabeth thinks about it. "I don't know, Frank. Really. I mean, you're asking me. I'm pretty unremarkable."

"What?" He positively boggles at her. "But you're leader of camp! And you're so strong, and fast, and smart -"

"Damn it," she jokes. "I was going for wise." She smiles when he chokes out a laugh. "All of those things I had to build up myself, you know. I wasn't born this way – maybe with the exception of the smart bit. I don't have cool powers like the rest of you." She lowers her voice a tad as she admits what she's always been resentful of, what she's never admitted aloud to anyone else. "Truth be told, I used to get pretty jealous sometimes."

"Oh," he says, and she looks up to find him staring at his own arms guiltily.

"It's okay!" she tells him, a burst of fondness rushing through her. "It's just that I'm surrounded by all of you superhumans with your flashy skills, and I'm like, damn. And the only 'magic' I have doesn't really come from me." She slaps her palm against her Yankees cap and tries for a joke. "But I'm cool with how I am. I try to tell myself none of you incompetents would survive if it wasn't for me."

"That's true, from what I've heard around the Bunker," Frank smiles.

"So, if you ask me…I'm a little biased," she admits. "I know I should choose the path to survival, but there's the circumstances to think of, too. If you put a gun to my head, right now, I'd consider the shithole we're in and I might say screw the risk and choose to be invulnerable, even if it means I could die if my weakness is found. But I guess you'll just have to keep your strengths close and your weaknesses closer." She smiles at her own semi-joke.

Frank moistens his lips. "And if…and if you were in such a situation already?"

She stares at him. Frank certainly is powerful. He's strong, a gift from his father, and he is blessed with the power to shapeshift, a gift from his mother. She racks her brains as an old legend, something from Leo's pile of scrolls, takes shape in her mind. "Frank…"

"What would you do?" His eyes are pleading. A light breeze circles them, making her curls fly and Frank's short cropped hair ruffle slightly.

She spots the barnhouse and considers as she hefts the bag from McDonalds in her arms.

She dreams that she is on the edge of the river Styx, about to jump in. She emerges invulnerable, invincible, but with a weakness that could get her killed. All the laws of mortality mean nothing now, and a blow aimed at the right spot could be fatal. What would she do?

"I'd tell someone," she decides, thinking inexplicably of Percy and surprising herself in the process. "And I'd trust them to keep my weakness safe."

"Okay," he says, relaxing. "Okay."

"A burden is carried easier if it's shared."

"You are wise," he marvels, and she laughs, noting that he sounds a good deal happier than before.

Annabeth kicks open the door to the barn, watching in amusement as Piper and Percy leap to their feet and draw their weapons. They relax when they see her, though, and Percy immediately makes grabby hands at the parcel in her arms.

Frank goes out back to give the pegasi the sugar cubes they'd stolen from the grocery store, while Annabeth tosses Piper and Percy two burgers each.

"I could probably eat more than two," Percy admits sullenly, his stomach snarling like a starving tiger, but he brightens when Annabeth takes out the ninth burger and tosses it to him.

"I knew this would happen, so I bought one extra," she informs a smirking Piper. Frank comes back from outside and Annabeth hands him his no-cheese burgers. Over in the corner, Percy is making noises that Annabeth believes should be outlawed; they are practically obscene at this point, making the hair on her arms curl.

"Shut up, idiot," she orders, sitting down. "Don't you have manners?"

"Yeah, were you born in a barn?" Piper says gleefully around a mouthful of burger, gesturing around them. Percy guffaws.

"Are you sure you don't want a bite of cheese?" Percy asks Frank, holding his burger out to Frank in a startling display of generosity: Annabeth has learned the hard way that Percy's first loyalty is to his stomach.

"I told you many, many times," Frank says, like he's soothing a toddler. "I'm lactose intolerant."

Percy shrugs and shoves the remainder of his burger into his mouth. Annabeth hasn't seen a python swallow its food whole, but it can't look too different. She's caught between awe and disgust as she watches him swallow.

"I think it's worth it," Percy says, licking his fingers. Annabeth tosses the napkins at him, wrinkling her nose.

"Yeah, but bad things happen when I eat cheese," Frank says sagely, making Piper snort with laughter.

Then he takes a bite of his burger and collapses to the floor.

/

Leo hates his life.

He'd been doing okay. Kind of. Sure, Hazel had kind of turned him down, but she'd been really nice about it, and truth be told Leo's glad that he'd decided to shoot his shoot and figure out if there was anything there for her, too. At least now he knows where they both stand.

And Leo genuinely thinks he'll enjoy being her friend. He cackles a little under his breath as he imagines teaching her all the swear words he knows – in both English and Spanish. He can't wait to see Frank's face when Hazel turns up after this Quest and begins cussing like a rapper.

Hazel's half-asleep right now, caught in a flashback – Leo can tell by how her lips are moving, like she's talking to someone.

Also, she'd slid into a deep sleep right in the middle of their conversation. So yeah, there's that.

As per Frank's advice, he's left her alone, covering her with his blanket and sitting back, chewing on his gummy bears. He smiles at her as she mutters something unintelligible – sue him, okay. He's still allowed to think she's cute, and it'll probably take some time for him to be able to look at her without his ribs catching and pulling inwards with a little hitch.

He looks away from her and at the trees that surround them, taking in a deep, shuddering breath of cold air. He's always liked the outdoors, even though he's in the habit of burning it up whenever he steps foot outside Nine. Over the days he and Hazel had spent in traipsing through the tapestry-dust and stifling, endless corridors of the Labyrinth, he's found he misses the cold, wet smell of the forests surrounding the Bunker. He wonders what it must've been like for Hazel and Frank to spend every night under the stars.

He gets it, he gets that Hazel and Frank have history – Hazel and Sammy even more so – but he still feels like shit. The past few days with her in close quarters had felt oddly like an interminable experiment in waiting. Waiting for her to finally see him as someone she could possibly grow to like, maybe even love. And it's not going to happen, and Leo is just angry at himself for thinking that it could've.

It just feels like he's waited for years, knowing, believing that love could be around the corner just as certainly as he could die unexpectedly – his life could change for the better or the worse without him even getting to have a say. It is so weird to him that his future at once is so unsure and yet also – fixed, in a way, fixed in the form of prophecies and whatnot. Like it or not, Leo's fate is going to come true in whatever way possible – everything in his life that's transpired so far has been meant to happen that way, the way Annabeth always says. Leo had always privately ridiculed those shoddy rationalisations: surely she was just trying to convince herself that everything would be okay.

And yet now he snorts at himself as he wonders that maybe Hazel rejecting him was meant to happen. It's kind of freeing in a way. Maybe Leo would learn something from it. Maybe he would rise from this disappointment and mild heartbreak like a phoenix from the ashes.

It's a long shot, but it makes him feel better.

He huddles up in his blanket, and remembers Piper telling him everyone here loves you just fine, and then he thinks about why he's been waiting for love so hard when he already has so much around him.

He's going to be okay.

Leo glares balefully up at the purpling sky, slowly drawing breath back into his lungs, before brushing himself off and going about sprucing up what had already been a woefully inadequate camp. He kicks away the little stones littering the site, sets up a tripwire attached to a bell to warn him of anything approaching and sets both bedrolls on the nearly cleared camp ground.

As the last of the violet light disappears behind the trees, Leo gets up and stretches, heating his palms and rubbing them over his arms to stop himself shivering down to his bones. He lays Hazel against a tiny outcropping of rock near where the area they've chosen for their campsite, then clomps around collecting whatever bits of firewood he can in an effort to warm himself up.

Leo grabs a handful of dry leaves, places them carefully on the pile of wood, and sets them on fire with a casual flick of his finger – the fire could attract unwanted attention, but it's a risk they're going to have to take if they want to survive the night without getting frostbite, and plus it'ss give them the vision they need in the face of the fading light.

He takes off his jacket and pins it to the ground right in front of the fire with several rocks. He sticks his hands right in the middle of the flames once they're high enough to reach his knees, exhaling with relief as the heat eases the numbness in his hands and resonated all the way up his shoulders.

He shifts Hazel a little closer to the fire. Hazel makes a tiny snorting sound.

He shoves an entire peach into his mouth with minimal decorum – Hazel would be wrinkling her nose in disgust at him if she were awake - and yawns widely and unhurriedly. He knows he shouldn't sleep, but he feels relaxed and happy, which is something he'd never thought he'd be after being unable to eat some authentic fast food. His thoughts, which had been unable to switch themselves off before, have not settles into a calming buzz. Leo leans against the rocks and closes his eyes.

He must pass out from sheer exhaustion, but he is woken scarcely an hour later, roused by the sound of footsteps – they're many in number and give Leo the impression that they're being caused by someone – or something – heavy.

His breaths are shallow. He sucks in air, summoning strength, and says, "I know you're there." His face pulls into a grimace at his own wavering voice. In the silence, it sounds as raucous as metal clangs.

His warning bell goes off. Leo throws himself on it at once, cutting off the sound.

He casts a furtive look around him, his heart thundering in his chest. With one hand he shakes Hazel's shoulder – to hell with Frank's Flashbacks 101 advice, Leo's sure he'd rather have Hazel alive, even if she has been rattled by whatever memory has taken her this time.

"Hazel, wake up," he says, voice low and cautious – Leo should really be grabbing her and making a run for it, but he isn't sure he can carry her.

The footsteps get closer. Leo breathes hard, his attention on the fire crackling merrily in front of him. His heart is doing its level best to leap right out of his throat, beating in uneven thumps and thundering in his chest.

He summons a fireball in his left palm and stands up, praying to all the gods he remembers that please let it be a wild animal, please let it be a wild animal –

Of course it fucking isn't.

Leo gazes with horror as a monster's face breaks through the foliage right above him. It's the cyclopes from Chipotle – ugh, she must've tracked the smell of the goddamn Axe – and she looks at him, nose scrunched up and single eye narrowed at him even as Leo's face smooths out in dawning comprehension and dread.

He throws the fireball into her eye.

She falls back, letting out an unearthly yell, and too late he notices the arms reaching out from behind him, aiming to grab a still-sleeping Hazel. Leo whirls around, hands help up at the ready in defense, and bellows in rage, grabbing a Bronze hammer from his belt and chucking it as hard as he can. The hand withdraws on contact with the weapon as though burned, and Leo uses the opportunity to shoot a blast of fire from both palms in a wide circle around him, effectively keeping the monsters at bay for now.

"Hazel, wake up!" Leo screams, throwing another vial of petrol at one of the cyclopes and sending a burst of flames right after impact. He uses the distraction to kneel down beside her again, thinking screw delicacy and shaking her so roughly her head lolls around.

"What…" she says groggily, sitting up. Leo almost sobs with relief.

"We have to run!" he shrieks into her face, so loudly she yelps and falls over, rolling over the ground. She gets to her knees, dazed, looking around them as though noticing the ring of fire for the first time.

"What on earth, Leo?" she screams at him, flying to pick up the handkerchief that's fallen from the pocket of her jacket. "I knew I said I wasn't afraid of fire but you didn't need to take that as an excuse to turn this place into hell!"

"Look!" Leo yells back, pointing through the flames at the monsters; she squints at them and her eyes widen. She must recognize the cyclops from Chipotle just as well as he had.

"She brought two others!" Leo howls, shooting more fire from his palms and offering her his hand. "Do you remember where the entrance to the Labyrinth is?"

She nods. "Yes, it's not far, but-"

"Here's the plan." He pulls her to her feet and begins pulling out tools from his belt – Celestial Bronze screwdrivers, wrenches, even a power drill that he hadn't meant to withdraw and makes him choke back a laugh. "Aim for their eyes. You go for one, I'll go for another, and I'll blast fire at the third. When they're distracted, I'll douse the flames – and then we have to run." He gathers several wrenches in his arms. "Be ready to open the entrance."

Hazel picks up a screwdriver. "Got it."

"Now!" he yells. He aims for one of the smaller male cyclopes and nabs him in the shoulder. He curses and aims again, this time getting him in the nose.

"Come on!" he howls at himself, and luckily, his next throw sends the wrench sinking into the monster's giant eye. Hazel, who might have been waiting for him to his his targets, lands a bullseye on hers in the next second. Leo throws another vial at the third one – Miss Chipotle herself – and sends a wall of fire in her direction, so scorching even Hazel, who is standing behind him, stumbles back, eyes wide.

"Run!" he screeches at her, grabbing her hand and yanking her along behind him.

"We're close," Hazel pants. "Just over-"

She stops in her tracks, so abruptly that Leo nearly falls over – he turns back around to see her twisting her arm from his grasp and checking her pockets frantically. "Leo. Leo, I have to go back-"

"What?" Leo shrieks, in a pitch so high he'll be forever denying it afterward. "That's suicide-" Only Hazel is already running back the way they'd come, leaving Leo no choice but to curse violently and pelt after her.

The cyclopes break through the circle of the fire just as Hazel approaches it, heedless of the blaze threatening to burn her. She takes two steps and the fire explodes, and a shockwave of pure heat buffets them both back. Leo lifts an arm to shield Hazel, a searing pain shooting up his shoulder, snatching the air from his lungs. The fire he'd caused is alive now, alive with a roar just like – just like the storm where his mom died -

He watches the fire devour the ground, turning the earth beneath them to heat in a rush of quickening gold. The flames pull together, spluttering and spreading and sweeping across the ground, further and further and faster and faster, combining with each other all the way along. The fire at their campsite rises taller than Leo, still alive and feeding on the thick, oppressive air around them. It roars and flares up, spitting sparks and spiralling into a column as high as the Bunker walls. Leo staggers back, overwhelmed at the heat and the light.

Without even stopping to slow down, Hazel cuts down one cyclops in the throat with the sword. Leo screams and focuses on the wall of fire at their campsite, clenching his fists to bring it down. Hazel takes a huge leap through the roaring inferno, which barely misses the tips of her hair, and vanishes out of his sight, leaving Leo to withdraw his hammer and bring it down on the knee of another cyclops, puncturing a hole that begins to immediately spill sand.

"You aren't going to get away this time, fire user," Miss Chipotle shouts at him. Leo throws a screwdriver into her open mouth, and then another, causing her to choke.

Ducking under her arm, which is as thick and strong as a battering ram, Leo rams the tip of his hammer into her heart. He doesn't wait for her to die, instead darting after Hazel, several extremely cutting insults on the tip of his tongue that die at once when he sees her sobbing, tearing through the grass and fallen leaves.

Leo shakes his head in sharp jerks that rattle his entire body. His hearing struggles to adjust to the roar of the flames eating up everything around them, cracking through brittle wood. He can hear Hazel breathing hard, her whole body wracked by violent shivers, and he can hear the sound of his own shuddering breaths. They sound almost arrhythmic, broken only by coughs and smoke-filled gasps.

"What are you doing?" he shouts, but it is faint against the chatter of burning wood, and Hazel doesn't hear him. "What did you lose?"

He slams himself down next to her and begins to run his hands through the grass in wide, sweeping motions, like windshield wipers on cars. He smushes his hands into what had been their fireplace but now is little more than a neat pile of ash and debris, still unsure of what he's even looking for, but it must be pretty important if Hazel's crying so hard over it.

After a few moments he finds a bundle of plastic that is half lit; the fire has torn through the several tightly-wrapped layers of bubble wrap and cloth to reach whatever is inside; Leo pats away the flames and holds out the bundle questioningly. "Hazel-"

No sooner has he held up the bundle than she's ripped it from his hands, cradled it to her chest, and burst into another fit of hot, boiling tears.

"Oh, Frank," she chokes, her face in her knees. "Frank, Frank, Frank…" Slowly, she extracts what looks like a nub of wood from the plastic. It can't be bigger than his thumb. It's scorched on one side.

Leo's head begins to spin.

He knows his fire legends. It's the first thing he'd looked up when he'd come to the Bunkers – it had been a good thing he'd been arrived at Six first, because the place was practically a library. Leo hadn't needed to look far.

He looks around at the leaves, at the grass, burnt black.

He stares at the firewood again, and it's fucking with his head.

He remembers something. A Greek prince whose life was tied to a piece of wood that his mother hid away, but later threw into the fire as punishment for killing his family. Leo gazes at Hazel, horrified. If he's right, and he must be, it's the only thing that makes sense – it would mean that Frank isn't just afraid of fire, it would mean he's got every right in the world to choose to live in darkness forever.

"Oh," he breathes. Then - "Fuck."

/

Annabeth can see Othrys looming up ahead in the twilight when Percy calls for a rest. Part of her wants to keep going, but then she casts a sideways glance at Frank – poor Frank, who is bent over the side of Porkpie like he's going to puke – and agrees readily.

They touch down not too far from the foot of the mountain. The pegasi fly off again, possibly sensing the stench of monsters in the air, and Piper douses them all in perfume that should keep them safe for the night. Annabeth and Percy nod at each other, doing a quick sweep of the are and finding it mercifully empty of enemies, and return to their makeshift hideout, where Piper is trying to get a small fire going.

The flame springs to life and Frank inches away, terrified, clutching at his throat. Annabeth immediately reaches out to him, her chest clenching in sympathy, but Percy gets there first. He wraps an arm around his shoulder and hands him a bottle of water, says something calmly that makes Frank relax a little.

"Maybe we shouldn't have moved him," Piper whispers, glancing his way worriedly.

"We didn't have a choice," Annabeth mumbles back, leaning against a sharp rock that cuts into the small of her back. "Two monsters had already found us by then. More would've shown up eventually."

They sit in silence for a while; Piper withdraws several little containers of dairy-free yogurt and hands her one of the spoons she must've taken from Nine, and oh, what Annabeth wouldn't do to go back.

After a few minutes of frantically shoving food into his mouth, Frank says, quietly, "You know what happened, don't you." He says it as a statement, not a question, and it's directed at Annabeth.

She flushes under Percy's laser gaze. "Yes."

"Do you know who it is?" Frank asks.

"Is this about Perry the Platypus?" Percy butts in. "You know, the guy you asked me about back at Nine?"

"Periclymenus," Frank mutters. Piper snorts out a laugh and kicks Percy in the arm.

"It's not him," Annabeth tells him. She looks at the burning wood. "It was a prince called Meleager."

Everyone waits, even Frank, who really should know what's up. Annabeth sighs. "He was a prince in Kalydon, and his life…his life was tied to a piece of firewood."

"What?" Percy asks, horrified.

"What does that even mean?" Piper leans away from their little circle. "What firewood?"

"It was given to my mother when I was born," Frank says, squeezing his eyes shut. "By my dad."

"Mars," Percy breathes.

"Frank," Annabeth says slowly, "if this is too hard for you…"

"No, I want to do this." He squares his shoulders, gripping his spoon so tightly it begins to bend. "Hazel was strong enough to tell you the truth about herself, so I will, too. Besides…" he smiles at Annabeth a little sadly, "I was told that sharing a burden is better than carrying it alone."

"Wise words," Percy whispers, catching on quickly and bumping his knee against hers.

Frank nods. "You were right about that. And about my weakness, too." His breath comes out shuddering. "I've told Percy this – but I'm a legacy of Poseidon as well as a son of Mars. My mother and grandmother are – were – descendants of Periclymenus."

"The Argonaut," Annabeth recalls. "That's where you get your shapeshifting powers from."

Frank nods miserably. "Because I'm lucky enough –" he makes air quotes and scoffs, "to be a demigod and a legacy, blessed with Mars' strength and my shapeshifting powers, it was foretold that I wouldn't live long. My life has been tied to a piece of firewood ever since my birth. Mars told my mother that I would die watching it burn."

"Where is it now?" Piper asks.

"With Hazel," Frank says, eyes wide with worry. "And she's with Leo."

Annabeth smacks her hand against her forehead in realization. "Of course. Leo's a fire user. No wonder you've been avoiding him like the damn plague."

Frank hangs his head. "I didn't mean for it to be so obvious – but. He scares me. More than anything, and I thought I'd seen the worse the night monsters attacked my -" He can't finish, choosing instead to run his hands through his hair. "And what if something happened to Hazel?"

"Frank, you being okay right now is proof that Hazel must be, too, and she's probably got the deathstick," Percy says soothingly. Then – "It's okay if I call it that, right?"

"Feel free," Frank says desolately. "Makes it sound cooler than it is."

"She'll be fine with Leo," Piper says soothingly, but Frank only looks more worried at this. "Look – I know Leo can seem like he doesn't really care about anything, but now that he's learned to control his powers, he's really careful with it." Piper lifts up her sleeve and reveals a faded discoloration in her arm – burned into her arm, Annabeth realizes with a jolt. "He knows more than anyone how dangerous fire can be."

"I – I don't know," Frank says. "It's not easy for me. I mean – you saw how it was. The smallest spark and I could die. And it's terrifying."

"We'll keep the firewood safe," Annabeth says. "After Leo got to the Bunkers, we had the Hecate half-bloods fireproof pretty much anything flammable. I mean, I'm sorry, Frank, but your problem isn't one that we can solve right now. So we just need to work on how we can possibly prevent anything bad from happening to you."

"How will that help now?" he asks agitatedly. "Hazel's far away – and if something happens again –"

"You're going to have to trust that she'll keep the deathstick safe," Percy says lightly. "You do trust her, don't you?"

"Of course I do!" Frank stares at him like he's grown a second head. "Why do you think I gave it to her? I literally trust her with my life."

Percy holds up his hands. "Okay, okay. I'm just saying – you've been doing it all this time. Some situations can't be avoided, and maybe that's the kind of thing Hazel had to face that caused the deathstick to burn. But you're still alive." He pauses as though for dramatic effect. "So she must've held it together somehow."

"There's no way for us to know what happened right now," Piper adds, slipping a bit of charmspeak into her voice; Annabeth shoots her a sharp look, but Frank relaxes a little, so she keeps her mouth shut. "But we can focus on what's going on with us right now. There isn't another choice, really. It's out of your hands."

Frank exhales weakly and accepts the water Percy hands to him. "I guess you're right."

Annabeth leans back, pursing her lips. "So when you asked me about the curse of Achilles…"

"I was asking that as someone who is in a similar situation," he says with a bitter little smile. "And I get what you meant, but – I'd give up these powers in a second if I could get a chance to be like you."

The words still sticks with her, long after their campfire has gone out. Annabeth can't seem to sleep, half-consumed by Frank's tale. The other merely seems to be chanting Luke's name.

She sits up in her sleeping bag and scoots a little further away from the sleeping figures of Piper and Frank, towards where Percy is keeping watch. His back is turned to her, but she must've made some noise when she moved, because he doesn't seem at all surprised when she elbows him lightly in the side.

He looks back at her, face tilted over his shoulder. Except his jaw is a little tight and there are tiny worry lines etched into his forehead. He looks unabashedly open and vulnerable, like he was thinking about something agonizing.

"Hi," he says tensely. Annabeth fishes two apples from her backpack and chucks one into his lap before settling comfortably at his side, sitting with her legs crossed underneath her. She leans against her arms, staring ahead, intensely aware of how stiff and straight Percy's back is. His posture oddly reminds her of her dad's before he was due to attend an important meeting, or Thalia's the night the War began. His posture is a far cry from hers, which is weird in and of itself, because he's usually far and away the more casual of the two.

"Hey." Despite how somber the mood is, her belly fills up with crackling warmth just at being next to him. It is annoying as hell, and although she'll never, ever admit it aloud, the sensation is also strangely pleasing. Over the past week or so she has found that his body moulds easily to her own, and despite never meaning for it to happen they find each other, even in sleep. Annabeth wakes every morning with her frame half-entangled in his, making it impossible for one of them to wake up without disturbing the other.

It feels so nice it's almost worth the smug glances Piper throws her way.

"Let me guess, you can't wait for us to leave." Percy doesn't meet her eyes; his voice is a little too self-righteous for her tastes. She bristles, understanding quickly the reason for his bad mood.

"I wish you'd trust me a little more," she tells him angrily, unconsciously tracing her fingers over Luke's name embedded into her dagger. "You and Piper – you're acting like I'm crazy."

"That's not what we think." Percy turns his head to look her dead in the face, and Annabeth's breath catches at the emotion threatening to spill over in his eyes. "We're just worried about you, Annabeth. You care about Luke too much –"

"Too much?" Annabeth rolls her eyes. "Sorry, I wasn't aware that I had to care about people in limited amounts."

"-Too much to be able to see reason," he continues, his voice somewhere between a groan and a growl, and she flinches. "And that doesn't mean I'm calling you dumb. You're the smartest person I – we know. But…" he trails off, and it's only when he crosses his arms around his knees that she realizes he's shaking. "I just want you to be prepared for the worst-case scenario, if it happens."

"But –"

"You love him," he says pointedly dispassionate, and she swallows thickly at how her own words are being used against her, now.

She glares at him, but Percy doesn't shrink away. Instead he reaches out towards her, grabbing her forearm. There's some fear in his eyes, not directed at her – it's a dread and a distress she can't place, but then it fades away into determination and a hard resolve, like everything he knows is being written in this moment. It makes Annabeth feel like she should sit down and shut up for a while; Percy is clearly intent on explaining himself.

She doesn't pull her hand away, even though she is, admittedly, a little miffed that his gall to just…grab her arm in the middle of their argument and making her forget everything she'd wanted to say. His hand is warm, grip strong, though not so tight as to make her feel shackled by it.

"Where is this coming from?" she asks.

He squeezes her fingers lightly and sighs. "I dunno. Just a bad feeling. Maybe it's nothing."

"No." Annabeth looks at her shoes. "No, I get it."

"I just don't want anything bad to happen to you because – well." Percy's lips slant into a bitter smile. "You love him, and I can't invalidate your feelings towards him, whatever they may be. All I'm asking is for you to remember what he's done to you."

He's right, though she doesn't want to admit it – and besides, she can't be mad at him when he's like this, all forlorn and curled in over himself, looking at her like that with those damn eyes. She lets her body sag a little, shoulder pressed tightly against his. "Okay."

"Percy-"

The breath leaves her in a sharp exhale when she feels Percy reach back and their fingers brush. Her fingertips tingle as he explores them cautiously and a little awkwardly, running a finger over the bones of her hand like he is reading them and memorizing the messages they contain. It reminds her of when she and Thalia and Luke had gotten stuck in an underground lair belonging to a cyclops, and how they'd had to run their hands over each other's faces as though visualizing how their features took shape.

The memory is a fond one and makes her chest throb and ache a little, her ribs feeling too tight around the rest of her organs.

In a quick movement, almost like he's been steeling himself to do it this entire time, Percy leans over and gives her a hug. Annabeth freezes for a second, but he's still holding on and so she slowly lifts her arms up to circle his back. He's warm. Something deep in her chest springs to life, something that spreads through every nerve in her body and makes her feel both alert and sated at once.

It occurs to her that even though they touch all the time – touches ranging from friendly to teasing to comforting – they haven't ever touched like this. The hug feels – different, like he's trying to tell her something he doesn't have the courage to say out loud.

He releases her.

Annabeth wants to ask what the hell that had been all about. Percy looks a little stunned, a light frown marring his forehead as though something is paining him. Still, though, he nods in thought, biting his lip and staring at the fire, which has decreased in height considerably.

He grabs some of the firewood they'd collected and leans forward purposefully to position the first log. His movements are quick, practiced, and Annabeth watches him carefully as he leans back, his eyes wide as the flames spring to life once again. He grabs another piece of wood, and she can't help but think that there is something innocent and endearing in the way he holds it. As though he's scared of getting burnt, even though he's got the ocean running through him just as surely as blood, which Leo says makes him nearly immune to fire.

His long, slender fingers wrapped gracefully around the wood, his arm almost rigid, held far from the rest of him. Annabeth runs a hand down her face with the thoughtful tip of her finger, wondering what is that's made him look simultaneously both relieved and terrified.

Once the fire is crackling joyfully in the hearth again, swallowing up the logs, the red and gold lights lick at the sharpness of his cheekbones like flames. Annabeth stares, mesmerized by the shadows playing across the angles of his face, but then he turns to her and she jerks back, red-cheeked, and the moment is lost.

"You know I trust you, Annabeth," he says in a voice so soft it feels intimate, sitting back and sweeping his head in an up and down movement. Annabeth flushes under the earnest intensity of his gaze and wonders if it's in her best interest to start pretending she's asleep before Percy starts saying anything else stupid and kind.

But yeah, she knows he trusts her - probably more than he's ever allowed himself to trust in anyone before - but hearing him say it so honestly speeds her heartbeat tenfold. She's proud, she knows, to have earned his trust, to have done something that has led to her rising in his esteem. "I told you about my mom, about –" His gaze is meaningful and she understands it to mean Bianca and Nico. "Of course I trust you."

"I trust you, too," she admits, so easily that is surprises her. Annabeth knows herself, knows she has built walls around herself. It is rare for her to truly trust people enough to share so much of herself, and it is even rarer for her to admit it aloud.

Percy looks glad. He smiles. "So that means you'll be careful for…for whatever comes tomorrow?"

"I'll be careful," she promises, and he nods, accepting her word, in any case. "But – I also want you to know that…I usually know what I'm doing, okay? And I want you to remember that for whatever comes, and trust me, even if you don't really want to."

He shakes his head. "Okay, Annabeth."

After a brief moment of silence, he asks, "What did Frank mean? About the curse of Achilles?"

It takes her a second to recall the conversation. "Oh. Before he told us about his curse, he asked me if I would take up the curse of Achilles if I had the chance – and the choice."

"And what did you say?"

"I told him I'd take it," Annabeth says, shrugging. "Mostly because I'm so ordinary amount you freaky beasts, but now that I know about Frank, it seems like a stupid risk to take."

"You aren't ordinary," Percy says, sounding horrified that she could ever think such a thing.

"You know what I mean," she laughs. "I don't have any special powers like the rest of you. Growing up with Thalia gave me a lot of insecurities."

"But you can turn invisible," he replies.

"That's the magical item, not me." Annabeth feels for her cap in her pocket. "It's fine, though." She changes the subject. "What would you do, though? If you had the chance to bathe in the Styx."

He snorts. "I'd never do it. I'll take a million tiny paper cuts over the one killing blow any day, thanks."

"Percy," she scolds, "you did not just call your gigantic scar from Iapetus a paper cut."

"Doesn't even hurt at all, now," he boasts.

She smiles at him when he looks away and turns back into the forest. Her heart is beginning to race again.

Tomorrow she is going to see Luke again. Tomorrow she has the chance to get all the answers she's been craving for like air ever since Luke vanished without so much a single hint of his plans. Tomorrow she will finally find out what has been going on.

Tomorrow she gets to see Luke again.

She turns around a little, nudging Percy in the arm as she does so, and he gets the hint at once, turning away from her and leaning against her with a tiny sigh as she does the same. Annabeth can feel the small of his back pressed up against hers and she smiles.

She can't wait for tomorrow.

/

"We're close," Hazel tells Leo quietly, opening her eyes. Leo nods mutely, clearly lost in thought.

Hazel feels numb. Her heart is still hammering in her chest, and her hand is still circled around the little packet, even though the plastic is half-melted away, charred black from the flames. Frank's firewood – it's so small now, and it had already been ridiculously tiny to begin with. Her heart runs cold at the thought of somewhere, Frank suffering the consequences of her mindlessness. What if he'd been in a battle? What if she'd gotten him killed?

He'd given her one job. One. And she's failed at it miserably.

The incident seems to have just solidified what Frank's been telling her all along – that fire is dangerous, that it burns and destroys and kills. Hazel remembers seeing in the Underworld a young girl who had died in a fire, and she has to swallow back her own vomit as she recalls flesh peeled back to reveal pale bone. Fire is terrifying.

And Leo is fire in a human body, and even though he's warm and playful and funny and lively, she can't help but think that he is dangerous as well.

Still though, she can't blame Leo, despite half of her wanting to. By admitting that she wasn't really afraid of fire, she'd basically given him the signal to go ahead and use it, and in the end he hadn't known about Frank. He'd just been trying to keep her safe. He'd saved her life, even, back at the fast-food joint.

And it wasn't his fault that Hazel had dropped the bundle in the first place. She can't believe she'd been so stupid – sometime during their talk she'd opened up the secret pouch in her pocket to feel for the packet in the hopes that it would give her strength. Annabeth had secured the pocket with a button for this very reason – why hadn't Hazel used it?

She hopes Frank is okay. She hopes she hasn't ruined everything. She'd gotten the stick out of the fire in time; she can only hope it had been enough to save him.

It is hard, though, to shake off the guilt and worry coursing through her like the strongest of currents. Leo had tried to calm her down, but there had been something awfully meaningful in his gaze and she had known, then. She had known that Leo had figured it out, somehow, and she hates herself for giving Frank's secret away.

She panics. What if Frank really is dead because of her? She doesn't want Frank to die.

Thinking about it makes her head hurt.

"If we're close, we should surface soon," Leo says quietly. She knows he's looking at her, but she can't bring herself to meet his gaze for fear of what she might find there. Sadness? Pity? She doesn't know. She doesn't want to find out.

Hazel nods once, then closes her eyes, reaching out through her consciousness around and above her, trying to locate the large hunk of metal she's been tracking since the…accident.

She finds it fairly easily. She nods at Leo, sensing a path that leads to the surface and turning to take it.

The forest is beautiful. That's her first thought as she bends the soil outwards, opening up a hole large enough for them to clamber through. It is so beautiful, with fresh green trees, golden sunlight filtering down to reach them, and the sound of a river bubbling and gushing all around them. A squirrel scurries from her as she stands up, brushing the soil particles from her clothes.

The forest is so beautiful. The tree trunks are a dark, rich brown that is close to the colour of her own skin. They look so solid and steal. And yet they would be…so easy to burn.

She shudders slightly, shaking her limbs loosely and focusing on the fresh air. They'd camped in the Labyrinth following the incident, and Leo hadn't complained – he's grinning now, though, as he takes in the scenery around him. He must've missed the overworld.

"You're sure it's here?" he asks her.

She nods, points in the direction where she feels the hunk of metal. She can't feel that it is the Dragon, exactly – it's more of this pull she feels towards a metal of that quality and quantity. It's definitely Celestial Bronze, so what else could it be other than the automaton Leo is so desperately seeking?

Hazel leads the way through the woods, relying on her senses more than sight as the night fast approaches. Leo doesn't light his fire even though it would help right now – would help him to see, might even keep away wild animals, but he's obviously worried about her reaction, and Hazel's too much of a mess to say anything, so they continue in silence, Leo tripping over brambles and cursing under his breath.

They scour their neck of the woods until Leo calls for a break.

"We'll have better luck in the morning," he says gently, and she can't refute that.

The sky is darker now, almost black, and it's impossible to see for than a few feet away in the shadowy moonlight. They settle down next to a tiny stream that must lead to the main river – Leo trips a little when he tries to wash his face and ends up soaking his shoes, and he lets out a gasped curse that makes her want to laugh for some weird unfathomable reason as she recalls an image of Frank tripping his way through the forest in about a dozen different ways, finally losing his head entirely and hitting the vines with his bow.

"Are you cold?" she asks.

"I am a very healthy…" his teeth chatter, "icicle."

She can hear him rustling in his bag, and she wants to tell him to use the fire. The words are on the tip of her tongue – all she has to do is speak –

Leo pulls out his sleeping bag and her mouth clicks shut.

She volunteers first watch, and she can tell Leo wants to say something, but he must decide against it, because he just wriggles into his sleeping bag and turns his back to her.

After a while, though, he whispers, "I'm going to sleep now."

Hazel, taking this to mean Good night, doesn't stir. Until he says again, a little louder, "I'm going to sleep now."

When his declaration is met, yet again, with silence, Leo turns around, "Hazel, are you awake?"

Hazel glares at him. Leo repeats, his voice shaking with laughter, "I'm going to sleep."

In a flash, she grabs a fallen branch and whacks him on the side of the head with it. "So do it then!"

"Would you chill," Leo says, affronted, but she sees the gleam of his teeth when he smiles, and something in her feels calmer, now, and she knows that annoying her endlessly had been his own roundabout way of cheering her up.

"Good night," he says. "For real, though."

"Good night," she responds, and she hides her smile in the crook of his elbow, a feeling she can't quite name blooming in her chest.

True to his word, Leo knocks out right away after that exchange; she can hear the sound of his slow, steady breathing. She pulls her jacket around herself, feeling for Frank's parcel from the outside, and huddles a little closer to Leo despite herself. He's a furnace, emanating heat, making her entire body tingle, as though she's entered fire-warmed chambers after being in a snowstorm.

She sighs a little, trying not to close her eyes.

She doesn't know how long it's been when she jerks awake, alerted by the sound of something shifting among the trees around them. Hazel's heart jumps to her throat and she reaches out for Leo's shoulder, shaking it as hard as she can manage without moving too much.

Leo sits upright, his eyes crazed – Hazel holds a finger to her lips just in time.

"What happened?" he whispers. "Did you find the Dragon?"

"No," Hazel says back, trying not to let panic overwhelm all her senses. "Something's here – I can't see what it is…use your fire."

"But-"

"Use it," she pleads, as a twig snaps right behind them.

Leo's hands ignite in flames, and he whirls around, standing up at the same time, brandishing his palms like two torches. The forest threatens to swallow them up in shadow, but Leo stands strong, peering into the darkness, as Hazel feels her panic subside.

Then she feels something else. Something tingling and familiar and close – so close. How did she let it get so close?

"Leo," she whispers, tugging at his sleeve and pointing. She can barely hear herself speak. "There."

At first the thing looks like just a shape in her peripheral vision and she almost passes it off as a very, very broad bear – until it moves.

Startled, Leo jumps about a foot in the air, leg flailing out in a very poor imitation of a kick. He lands in a shaky fighting stance, fists raised as though letting the attacker know he'll be going down swinging. Hazel feels a violent shudder pass through her entire body. Her hands are cold and her throat feels tight with fear and her heart launches a little explosion in her chest.

Leo increases the intensity of the flames just by a little, but it's enough. Enough for them to finally spot the rippling Bronze scales passing in and out of the light. Enough for them to notice the two glowing ruby eyes gleaming at them from between two trees.

"Oh," Leo says faintly.

"We didn't find the Dragon," Hazel says, biting her own tongue to keep screaming, or, even worse, passing out. "It found us."

/

They dismount from the pegasi about two miles from Othrys. Frank recognizes the forests from above and assures them he can lead them on foot from here. Percy's a bit worried about his mental state since everything, but he looks better today, which is good.

Truth be told, he's more worried about Annabeth.

Her jaw is clenched as they watch the pegasi fly away into the purple evening sky, and she stalks away right after Frank without a word. Piper and Percy exchange nervous looks, but there's nothing for him to do except place a hand on his sheathed sword and follow.

It grows dark but Frank seems to know where he's going, taking them down what looks like the darkest, least-trodden part of the trees. Percy keeps an eye on the wisps of Annabeth's blonde hair catching the last few rays of daylight and almost walks into a tree.

Finally, when the moon is high in the sky and the stars are glittering, Frank holds out a hand.

"We're close to the garden of the Hesperides," he whispers. "Be quiet – we don't want to wake the dragon, but from the edge of the forest you still should be able to see the mountain peak."

He takes a breath. "I'll check it out first." Annabeth nods.

Frank transforms into a small green snake; Percy tries to track him through the grass and fails, managing to spot him again only when he turns back into a human and creeps to a tree that Percy realizes is at the edge of the forest. Frank flattens himself against it, crouches down, and looks up at what Percy presumes is the mountain. He beckons the rest forward.

Annabeth puts on her cap and vanishes, leaving Percy and Piper to scurry behind her, backs bent low. Percy takes position at a tree next to Frank's, and Piper chooses another a few away from his. Annabeth appears behind the tree just in front of his, and he can see her chest heaving in anticipation as she gazes outside.

There isn't any time to process much of the creaking, looming castle peeking between the hills, no more than a few miles away. Othrys – Percy recognizes the black bricks like it had been yesterday the fort had built itself up from the extensive rubble to the height it is at today, gaining strength from the death of Thalia and the fall of the gods.

Percy gazes at it warily. The towers are all dark wood and stone and retreating shadows. He stares at one of the openings in the stones of the building, but the darkness around denies him any insight. Leaves crunch under his feet as he drops to his knees, and he watches the light from the moon slip through the canopy above them. He gazes at the halo of Annabeth's hair, momentarily mesmerised.

Percy looks up at the mountain, and his heart drops to his feet. Ice fills his lungs, momentarily shocking the breath from him.

There's someone there. Someone distinctly human, kneeling, his back hunched over as he strains under the weight of what looks like an entire storm on his shoulders. Lightning flashes. The clouds swirl around the point like a tornado. It is so repulsively sky that Percy finds himself taking a step back, trembling. He can't help but feel pity for the poor soul stuck shouldering the burden.

He is too far away to catch a glimpse of his features, but he'd bet good money on the guy having blonde hair and blue eyes, a scar down his left cheek.

Annabeth is vibrating with excitement. She turns to the rest of them, her eyes shining even in the dark. Something in him dims at the sight of her so happy to see Luke, but he swallows it down and looks back at Luke.

"It's him," Annabeth whispers, face lit up. "Grover was right. We have to go help him."

Piper shakes her head. "I dunno. What if it's a trap?"

"There's no way any of us can get us the mountain," Frank adds quietly. "There's the dragon." He points to the scaly reptile wound around a tree at the base of the mountain. The fruit on the tree glints with a holy shine – golden apples.

"We'd need a distraction to fool the dragon," Frank continues. "And something that big and flashy would only alert monsters – or maybe even Titans – to our presence."

"We can't just leave him here!" Annabeth says furiously, jabbing a finger in Luke's direction. "He's in pain!"

"Unless you have a plan," Percy says.

"I have a plan," Annabeth refutes defiantly. "Well. A third of a plan."

"Then no," Percy snaps back, despite a third of a plan being usually what he works with most of the time. "We aren't taking any risks."

"Annabeth, if there's no way we can get up the mountain unseen –" Piper begins, and Annabeth gasps.

"Unseen," she says in a thrilled voice. "Unseen. I can go up there! With my invisibility cap!" She waves it in front of her face to prove it.

"No," Percy says at once, his throat dry. This – this is exactly what he'd feared. "No. It's too dangerous."

"Percy, I can handle it," she says desperately. Gods – he can't see her like this. He can't. He turns away.

"Percy has a point," Piper begins, but Annabeth glares at her.

"Don't you dare try charmspeak," she hisses, and Piper withdraws, her head bent.

"Annabeth…if something happens, you'll be alone up there," Frank reasons, breathing hard. "I don't think it's worth the risk."

"It's Luke," Annabeth says urgently. "Luke."

"No," Percy says again. "Annabeth – you said. You said you would be careful."

"And I will be," she insists, leaning forward a little. Percy's already dreading what this speech is setting itself up for. "I'll just go as far as I can. I won't take off the cap. I won't say anything. I'll just see if he's real. That it's not a trap." She gazes at him. "Please. You know I have to do this."

"You said you wouldn't be rash," Percy snarls at her, unable to stand it.

Annabeth recoils, but her gaze only hardens with a steel that hadn't been there before. "And you said you'd trust me." She looks at him severely, and then turns to Piper and Frank in turn. "Do you trust me?"

"Damn it, Annabeth, you can't play that card," Piper says weakly, running a hand through her hair and letting loose a shaky laugh.

Frank only looks at Percy.

Annabeth's face is set in that characteristic stubborn glower that she usually adopts right before diving headfirst into an argument. Percy hardens his chin, channelling the same pigheadedness he uses against Leo when he's trying to beg for another helping of tacos. Annabeth's eyes flash, flickering with a fierce fire, looking ready to burst, and Percy counters with a glare he'd learned after watching Lupa and her wolves for months on end.

For a fleeting moment he considers knocking her out and dragging her back to Nine by force.

Annabeth's gaze cuts a hole through his head as though saying, Why won't you trust me? And Percy clenches his fist, because he has an answer for why he doesn't want to trust her at all right now, and he's sure she won't like it.

He can't hold eye contact and ends up giving in, letting loose a sigh and sagging his shoulders in defeat. Annabeth shifts – she knows she's won.

"I'll be back soon," she says, her gaze lingering on him with something like an apology. She hands him her backpack, and her fingers linger like she's loath to let go. "See you."

She vanishes into the night and out of sight. Piper lets out a low groan; Percy sinks to the ground, shaking all over, and trepidation makes his palms slick.

He can't help but feel that he's made a terrible, terrible mistake.

/

Annabeth creeps out of the forest, keeping her back bent. She skirts as far away from the dragon as she can – it's a beady-eyed beast, long enough to curl itself around the tree two, three times. This is the dragon that had given Luke his scar. She wonders how he feels about being a prisoner so close to the monster that had nearly taken his life.

The dragon lifts its head when Annabeth clambers atop the first rock. She freezes, slowing her breaths, her heart thudding against her ribs like a damn drum, but the dragon only closes its eyes again.

The road to the peak of the mountain, where Luke is, is a path littered with spiky rocks that could impale her if she takes a wrong step. Annabeth uses both her hands and feet to climb, stopping every few minutes to adjust the cap tighter on her head.

If she's seen, it's game over.

An image of Percy flashes across her eyes, one eyebrow arched skeptically as she made her case for remembers how she'd left him, silent but for the taunting echoes of his disapproval, and she wonders what he is thinking right now. It kind of sucks that her last memory of him is their argument, his eyes the same color as the dark waves that batter the shore, his features struggling to convey shock, anger, and a little bit of what the fuck all at once.

She thinks, inexplicably, of the hug that he had drawn him into the night before. It was one of those can't-tell-where-you-end-and-I-begin, face-in-neck, super intimate hugs that warmed Annabeth down to her bones and quite honestly took her breath away. She's not sure what that hug was meant to convey, and she'd never gotten the chance to ask him afterwards. She kind of wishes she had.

He's surely pissed as hell at her now, but he doesn't get it. He won't ever get it. This is something she has to do. And somewhere in her she'd known she would end up doing it alone.

She can handle herself. Annabeth's trained herself over the years to act smart. She makes plans, and she makes backup plans. She is skilled enough to track prey in the midst of a gale and she is strong enough to cripple a whole army with a few well-placed scouts and brave soldiers.

She's going to be just fine.

The trek to the top is arduous, but Annabeth doesn't stop. She is careful in her steps, aligning her breaths to her motions to minimize noise. She doesn't know how long it's been since she started – an hour? More?

She finally gets to the top of the mountain, where she has to put in extra effort just to stay upright. The winds buffet around her, threatening to send her flying back down the mountain – and surely her to death – should she lose her footing. She places an arm on top of her cap to keep it where it is and focuses on take small, sure steps forward. Closer and closer and closer until she can make out the figure carrying the sky in the eye of the storm –

It is a good thing the winds are howling, because a broken sob shakes it self loose from her open mouth. She drops to her haunches and quickly shoves a hand over her lips, hoping he didn't hear, but it doesn't matter. It's Luke.

It's Luke.

He looks pale, haggard. His arms strain in their awkward position as they try to alleviate some of the burden from his back – and what a burden it is. The sky, the sky for real, twisting in a terrible spiral right above their heads. This is where Atlas had been doomed to bear the heavens forever, but – why is Luke here?

She itches to wipe the grime from his face. His eyes are squeezed shut, bloodstains caked all over his face and body. She takes a step backward, intending to call for the others. Somehow. She doesn't care about revealing their positions if it means they can get Luke back.

"Who's…there," Luke gasps from behind her, his voice thin with strain. "Is it…you, Atlas? Here – here to…taunt…me…again…" He's gasping by the end of it. Annabeth's voice is caught in her throat. She should go back and get the others. Luke isn't going anywhere. She needs to be smart here.

She turns and begins to walk away, her pulse thundering in her ears.

"Anna…beth?" Luke asks, and she whirls around, stricken. There's no way. There's no way. It's impossible.

"Please." Luke is sobbing, dry heaving. It's a pitiful sight and something in her heart twinges painfully. He had always been the strongest person she knew. Her hero. Someone begging like this couldn't possibly be evil. "Annabeth…if it's you…please. Please."

He breaks down, coughing and crying loudly into the electric air. Annabeth is crying, too.

"Luke," she gasps, taking off her cap.

He nearly loses his grip at the sight of her. "Anna…Annabeth." There's a streak of grey in his hair. His eyes are sunken. "Annabeth. You…came."

The rawness of it, his gasping breath at the end of her name…it's painful to hear. She watches Luke swallow, feeling her own throat tightening in sympathy, and a tiny shiver of realization travels up her spine as it hits her that even though she'd been around Luke for nearly a decade before he'd left, she still hadn't known how vulnerable he could look and sound. And she'd loved him like family.

"You came…for me-" he starts, but then he trails off, like words are failing him. After a long second, he continues, hesitant. "Even though – everything. You came…Annabeth." His voice catches on her name again, and he cuts himself off.

"I came," she says, wiping her eyes and reaching out for his face. "I'm here to get you out of here. I'm not alone. We can come and take you back to where it's safe."

"Safe," Luke repeats, like he hasn't heard the word before. "Annabeth…I…my back…"

With a pained cry, Luke's knees buckle. He sinks further into the ground, blood pooling at his legs as the load threatens to crush him, and Annabeth -

Annabeth moves without a second thought.

/

"What is she doing?" Piper groans into her fist. She's being pretty loud, given the circumstances, but Percy can't really fault her. He has greater causes for alarm.

Piper whines as she peers back up at the mountain, continuing to wear the length of the ground with her sneakers without breaking stride. Percy's own jaw is tight, but he feels a twinge of sympathy – he knows Piper hates that they've had to stay behind.

Now that Annabeth is gone Percy remembers all the things she'd told him before during their first real conversation about Luke. She'd given him the impression that she'd known and accepted that Luke was lost for good – and even after they'd embarked on this Quest to get him back, she'd assured him that she would be careful.

He wonders, now, if she'd really meant any of it, or if she'd only been saying all that for his benefit, to get him off her back. He glares at her distant figure, trying to imagine the exact moments of her rare confessions, and he longs to go back to those nights, to look into her eyes if only just to confirm that she'd been lying to him all along. So often the time they'd spent together had been veiled with something else, and so maybe she had not revealed true honesty on all fronts.

Piper lets out an almost-theatrical gasp as they watch Annabeth take off her cap and kneel down next to Luke. The line of Annabeth's back is straight and Percy stares, willing her to turn around and speak face to face about these things running though his head. He wants to yell at her and scream that ha, he hadn't believed her one bit when she'd spouted all that crap, he'd just wanted to believe she would do the right thing.

Frank's stunned into total silence. Percy's gone utterly still. The shit feeling in his gut intensifies until, unable to bear it, he takes the support of a nearby tree.

"No," he whispers, "no…no…no."

In the moment Luke crumbles and Annabeth darts forward to shoulder the sky herself, Piper throws her entire weight over Percy, keeping him pinned to the ground, her elbow digging into the small of his back. She'd guessed right. Percy's writhing, clawing at the soil, trying to get to Annabeth. He closes his eyes, but the only thing that appears in the blank space of his own mind is Annabeth's windswept figure walking away from him as he stretches his arms out, wanting nothing more than to follow her.

He might be crying, but he isn't sure, but all he can think is a chorus of No, no, no as Luke rolls away from Annabeth, who is crumbling under the weight of the sky, her hair turning into a color alloyed with iron in the rays from the moon.

Luke gets to his feet unsteadily, and Percy watches in mute horror as he holds his sword in front of her. Percy imagines the cold metal pressing against his own throat, running along the curve of his veins, tracing the rivulets of blood trailing down his throat.

"No," he whispers, attempting to throw Piper off his back, but she's holding fast, sobbing. Frank stares at them both, seemingly frozen.

"Percy, no," Piper says. "No – we can't go up there, we'd get captured, too!"

"It's Annabeth!" Percy roars – to hell with their cover, it's probably been blown already; this is all a massive trap, anyway. "We have to go! She'd do the same for us!"

He is so angry. He doesn't know who it's directed at – part of it is for Luke, just because he's clearly poisoned of mind and beyond redemption in his eyes. Part of it is for Piper for holding him back. Part of it is for Annabeth, for fucking going.

Most of it is for himself, for letting Annabeth go in the first place.

Most of it is for Annabeth, who is evidently so in love with Luke that she has decided him worthy of throwing her own damn plan right out the window. She must have been unable to endure the pain he was going through.

She must love him a lot. Far more than Percy and Piper and any of them had guessed.

"She'd want us to get the fuck away," Piper screams, grabbing him by the collar as he tries to turn away. She grabs his arm in a vice grip. "Percy, please, I'm so sorry, but - please."

Percy struggles even as half of him is slowly submitting to her charmspoken command. He has to get to Annabeth – he could shake Piper off easily if he wanted to, but then he makes the mistake of looking at her and all he can think of is Jason telling him to her from harm. He curses and rips his arm away, but she grabs him around the waist.

"Frank," she grunts, and at the sound of his name the other boy seems to come to life again. He tackles Percy into the dirt and sits on top of him.

"I'm so sorry," he says brokenly. "But…but Piper's right…"

"We can get him!" Percy yells, trying to buck Frank off of him. "It's just Luke up there, we can take him –"

Hit by a brainwave, Percy headbutts Frank, who rolls off him in surprise. His skull throbbing with pain, Percy ducks under Piper, staggering towards the clearing. He'll get Annabeth back even if he doesn't have help –

A blur of silver crashes into him and he slams to the ground, hitting his head against a root half-buried in the soil. He tries to bring up a shield of water and fails, blinking dazedly as figures bathed in moonlight materialize around them, melting from the shadows as though they'd been born from them. Percy unclasps a knife from his calf and throws it at the nearest girl, who deflects it with her own knife easily. She whistles, and two hunting wolves appear at her side, followed by two other girls who hold Frank and Piper with their hands behind them.

Refusing for this to be the end, Percy snarls and charges at the leader, who sidesteps him and chops him in the back of the neck neatly. Percy's chin hits the soil and he spits out blood and mud. He flips around, but the girl is faster, ducking under his kick and withdrawing a bow from nowhere, slamming it into his abdomen. Percy gasps for air.

"She's on our side,' Piper yells to Percy, wriggling herself free. To the girl she pleads, "Zoe, please. With all of us together we might have a chance – that's Annabeth up there."

The girl called Zoe merely scoffs. "Well, then the daughter of Athena has acted very foolishly indeed."

"Don't call her dumb," Percy growls, attempting to stand, but Zoe just pushes him back down, so easily it's pathetic. She gazes at him for a long moment almost in disappointment; Percy can imagine what a pretty picture he must paint. His cheek feels swollen, and he tastes blood in his mouth.

Everyone stills as thunder booms from the mountain, a metalling, grating noise that fills him and grates against his ears. Percy climbs to his feet just as the echoes fade into a distant cacophony, and he looks around him, listening to the slow breaths releasing, gasping and close. The girls are nothing more that shifts in the shadows, clothed in black and brown, with only a hint of silver that gleams in the moon to give away the presence of their weapons.

"Zoe, please," Piper begs, and Percy spots tears dripping off her chin. "Like Percy said…it's just Luke up there, if we're fast enough –"

"We're wasting time right now," Frank says. "Please, whoever you are…please help."

"No," says Zoe bluntly. Percy grabs his sword and scoffs, heading off towards Annabeth again.

"Coward," he spits at Zoe with scorn, and for a second he thinks she doesn't hear, but a flickered glance in his direction, contemptuous, confirm she has. Percy speeds up, running for the opening in the trees and waiting for it to swallow him whole, but then with an inhuman speed, she's in front of him in a flash, grabbing him by collar and kneeing him in the gut. Percy groans, falling down.

"Coward?" she spits in his ear. "I am no coward, you imbecile. I will not lead my Hunters to a suicide mission."

"It's just one guy!" Percy hisses at her, attempting to clamber to his feet. He shakes the last of the bright lights blooming like daises in his vision and darts forward towards her, and even though the other girls surge forward as one to meet him, Zoe waves them off with a flick of her palms and spins to face him alone.

Percy swings his sword with purpose, and it catches as the tip scrapes across her arm as she ducks away. She doesn't make a sound, like the wound doesn't even register to her, and she doesn't attack him back at once, giving him a second to adjust his grip and find his balance.

Crackling from the mountain fills his ears, volume rising, and Piper is shouting at him – no, at Zoe. She elbows her captor in the gut and is immediately overtaken by two more. Frank turns his arm into a large wing – the girl holding him back gasps, and then she is saying something in a different tongue, voice at once guttural and lilting.

The trees around Frank come to life, branches whacking him all over his body and caging his crumpled form, and Piper screams.

Blue lightning bursts from the sky, and when Percy looks towards the mountain he sees Annabeth's body broken and her head hanging. Zoe chooses then to strike, the circlet in her hair glinting like they're made of mirrors, and the light from it is reflected in his sword, turning the Bronze into dappled silver.

He blinks, thrown by how fast she materializes in front of him, and before he can process anything she's lunged at him with a force that could plough through solid rock, and she lets out a cry like an angry hawk as Percy leaps back, hitting the ground on all his limbs and then spinning wide. His fall sends up a cloud of dirt, and through it he spies her moonlit eyes latched with his, her teeth bared in a snarl of the cornered.

A growl fills his throat as he turns to her, swaying. He deflects her first blow from a shining silver knife as they collide in a swirl of metals, but she rolls about his feet and slashes at his calf – not too damaging a blow, but enough to make a tassel of blood trickle down his leg. It stings as Percy lunges, sword-point-first and ready to pierce through her, but she twirls out of the way, and his weapon rams into the tree she'd been baiting him to, fuck – the force jars his whole arm. He blinks sweat from his eyes as Zoe knocks the sword out of his hand and then holds her own knife at his throat.

Percy lies there, spread-eagle, feeling the defeat's bite spread across his body, steady and pulsing over the din of the storm beyond them.

"Please," he says again, the words sped up after the flood of motion, and his voice breaks. "Please, it's just Luke."

"It is not," Zoe snarls, dragging Percy to the edge of the forest and grabbing his chin with her hands. With enough force to break his neck, she turns his face towards the mountaintop, where two figures are gathered beside Annabeth's slight frame.

Two?

One of them is very obviously Luke – the bastard, Percy thinks viciously, struggling to get his arms free from Zoe. He's going to kill Luke. Any inhibition about killing him he'd once had because of Annabeth's attachment to him is long gone, now. He's going to kill him -

The other silhouette is vast. He towers over Luke, arms like tree trunks and a chest that could probably deflect bullets. Percy falters without meaning to. Zoe looks down at him, her nose wrinkled as though he is something repulsive.

"That is the Titan Atlas," Zoe says with disdain, holding onto him with a grip stronger than iron cuffs. "General of the Titans – and trust me when I say none of us are in any shape to defeat him."

"He has Annabeth," Percy repeats, bringing his knee up to Zoe's chin and grazing it as she leans backward, eyes wide. She narrows them almost at once.

"I'm not leaving without Annabeth," Percy tells her. "I don't care what you do to me. I'm not leaving."

"Percy," Piper cries. "Zoe, please, we can't leave her here."

Percy can sense the charmspeak laced in every syllable, but Zoe ignores her. "You don't care what I do to you, hm?" She snaps her fingers. "Phoebe, bring the potion."

Another girl steps forward, holding a vial of golden liquid. Zoe thrusts it to him. "Drink it. It will restore your strength. If you are insistent on dying, you might as well go into it in one piece."

"No, Percy," Piper whispers, as he takes the vial and sniffs it experimentally. He grins and lets the liquid spill into the ground.

"Nice try," he says. "What was it?"

"Antelope urine," Zoe replies promptly. "But we got what we wanted, anyway. Good night, demigod."

"What-" he begins, realization dawning on him too quickly. Piper's eyes focus on something behind him, and he turns, frantic, but still too slow to sense the attack, too late to move away.

Something hard smashes into his head with the force of a thousand trucks. It sends a fire down the length of his back and ignites a pain in his chest, but he thinks he hears Annabeth's voice, calling for him, calling for help, and he needs to get to her.

"Damn," someone breathes, but the words are faint under the tide of blood rushing through him, and there is so much noise in his head he cannot think, and his heart struggles to find a place to beat in the chaos, and his mind is filled with the deafening sound of Annabeth's call—

He stops the girl's next strike with a shield of water that appears around him in a protective bubble, almost by instinct. His energy bursts through him, raw and wild, and there are gasps around him followed by Piper's low moan now that he's well and truly given himself away, but he doesn't care, not anymore, because saving Annabeth's life is priority, more important than saving himself. She's saved him, she's saved him in so many ways, and every time she does it it's sent a small handful of guilt down his gullet, and this is when he needs to prove to her that he can save her, too.

He can't bite back the cry that leaves him when Zoe breaks through the weakening barrier, kicking him in his aching ribs and sending him sliding backwards. Percy breathes in the air that bursts to life in his lungs and studies the shadows sliding in his direction and catches the foot that rises above him.

For a moment, there is nothing but sweat under his palms, then the tension jerks at his shoulders and drags him against the wet grass as the huge weight wins, tipping down. The crash comes as a relief, and he lets go, lets the pain and fire fill his dazed mind as he curls in on himself.

Percy's breath catches and he has to move, he has to move, but his arms and legs are now pinned, and he smells blood in the air, blood and smoke that must really be the pain.

Zoe's face appears, grudging in her respect, her hard, pitying stare cutting through him, and her voice sounds like a ringing verdict. "You fight well, demigod. And you very evidently care for your lost friend. But there is nothing you can do."

His nails scrape the soil. Zoe drones, "Subdue him."

And then a cloth is pressed to his nose and mouth, a faint pink smoke curls into his nostrils, but there is already a calmness spreading through his mind and chest. Percy jerks away, but his body feels feeble, and maybe this is a nightmare.

Percy deserves worse than nightmares for failing Annabeth.

His eyes sting from the smoke, so he lets them slip shut, and he lies there, senseless.

/

Annabeth tries to focus on breathing.

Holding up the sky hurts. It hurts like a bitch. Every muscle in her body screams in the purest agony. Her blood alternates between boiling and freezing point. Tears squeeze from her shut eyelids. The screeching sound echoing in her ears fills her mind until there are no thoughts, just the yell of a million, a billion crying voices, and the rush of scorching air.

It hurts so much, it hurts so, so much – but it still doesn't come close to the hurt she'd felt when Luke had held his sword in front of her chest, a razor-thin line dividing her torso in half, the point ready to cut.

Luke had been smirking, possibly at how her stupid heart still belonged to him, even after everything.

Somewhere in the depths of her consciousness Annabeth thinks she hears Percy's scream. It wakes her like a splash of icy water to the space, and the smoke that has rapidly been consuming her mind, clouding and asphyxiating it, clears up at the thought of him.

His voice sounds clear. Tainted with anger and panic, but still clear.

She can see him now, eyes crackling with power as he tries to get to her. Maybe they've been attacked, too, and the sudden thought makes her gasp in fear. Her eyes flutter open – she needs to get to him. Percy. She needs him. She needs to get to him before her arms turn to dust.

Stabs of pain wrack her body with every breath, but she clings to it, she needs air more than ever now that her lungs feel like burst balloons. She tries to shift, but her legs still feel trapped. She glances at the forest's edge again, where Percy is. He is so close.

She winces as she inhales particularly painfully and fights the urge to cough, the urge to choke. Her arms want to reach out, but they cannot move from where they hold up the clouds.

There is a crack and Annabeth chokes on a cry as lightning and thunder revolve around her, flashing so brightly she is forced to squeeze her eyes shut. The skin between her shoulder blades is weighed down, so heated from the strain it is as though it has been exposed to an open flame. She bites her tongue so hard she draws blood, fighting the urge to collapse entirely.

Her ribs feel broken. Her chest is quivering. Pain bursts through her skull, and she thinks she says something, a cry for help, and Percy's name, maybe in Greek, because surely the garbled words that spill from her cannot be English. They curl in her throat before sliding free, and she hopes Percy can hear, but the plea is lost in the humming energy from the sky.

She can't move. She can't breathe, she can't even think, which had always given her comfort before. Her mind feels like a goddamn void, and she's stunned by the nothingness that comes from feeling a pain so potent it drives every other thought away. Her ears ring in the silence, and no matter how much she strains, she can barely see anything. The blindness and the agony from her limbs leave her paralysed, and she wonders if this is some kind of magic, if her senses have been destroyed entirely. But no, she can smell the electricity in the air, laced with the metallic tang of blood. And she can feel the pain, exploding all over her body in spurts, one by one in a chain reaction that never stops, only goes round, and round, and round –

A laugh booms in front of her, ringing in her ears and getting closer. "Luke, you really predicted it."

"Thank you, Lord General," says Luke, his voice thin and reedy and pleased. Annabeth closes her eyes shut and imagines ripping his vocal chords out.

General. Lord. Annabeth chances a look upwards and gazes into the Titan Atlas's face, which is scarred beyond belief and twisted in a sneering joy.

"You were very easy to fool, daughter of Athena," Atlas mocks, approaching her with a long, loping stride, his lips peeled back in a scornful smile. He crouches down to meet her at eye-level. "Luke had told me you were smart, but…it was very easy to lure you here, very easy indeed."

"Eat shit," Annabeth hisses with her what feels like her last bones of defiance, and she musters enough saliva in her mouth to spit in the Titan's face.

Atlas wipes it away, his lips curled into a snarl. "You should know your weaknesses, girl. It's just a pity we know it better than you."

"You…" She gasps for breath as her shoulder twists painfully. "I…won't be…here for long."

Atlas throws his head back and laughs, a sound that carries all the way down the mountain. "Do you mean your friends?" He leers at her, teeth bared in a menacing grin. "The daughter of Aphrodite? The son of Mars? Or…" He leans forward like they're sharing a private secret, and Annabeth wants to move away, disgusted by the proximity, but she's tied to the spot.

"Or the son of Poseidon you'd tried so valiantly to hide?" He sniggers, and Annabeth's heart stops.

"Oh, yes, we're very well informed of the goings-on at your little camp," Atlas continues, laughing out loud at her expression. Annabeth feels like her heart, made of glass, is being shattered into a trillion tiny pieces. "Even though we might not be able to get in, but…all in good time, wouldn't you say?" He stands up again.

The mole in the Bunkers. Of course. Even though Annabeth had been so careful – even though Percy had barely used his powers – which would have been a dead giveaway – in a fight, and even when he had, they'd made sure to leave no survivors.

She recalls her own instructions at the equinox meeting – her strict orders for Percy's parentage to be kept a secret. Someone's violated it – does that mean the traitor is one of the core members of the Bunkers – people Annabeth's known and trusted for years and years?

Or could the traitor be someone from Bunker Nine? Annabeth had been stupid enough to reveal his identity in front of everyone – something she's absolutely hating herself for doing, now. News could've spread easily – Butch could have told his siblings via their telepathy, Travis could've mentioned it while passing a message to another Bunker. The mole could literally be anyone.

Or maybe there isn't a mole at all, she thinks feverishly. She could possibly be the most delusional, gullible idiot on the planet, but Percy had mentioned that he hadn't been able to kill the Minotaur during their confrontation, ages and ages ago, that had led Percy to the Bunkers in the first place. Maybe the Minotaur had been the one to report it to Kronos.

Maybe there is no mole. Maybe Atlas is just bluffing, hoping she'll lose her head in trying to figure out who is betraying her – he always did know her inside out.

"I'm surprised you didn't weed the person out already," the Titan says, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

"You're vile," she hisses, and her eyes fill with tears. Atlas laughs and stands, turning to Luke.

"Luke, keep an eye on her. She trusts you, try to get out what you can." Atlas says. Annabeth lets out a tiny scoff.

"But, my Lord," Luke interjects, "she surely won't tell me anything after this –"

"Well, she was stupid enough to try and save you, wasn't she?" Atlas bellows, and Annabeth burns with humiliation. "She'll crack under the pressure soon enough."

Luke must nod, because Atlas grunts in approval. Annabeth hears him teleport off the mountain, and then it is just her and Luke.

She can't meet his eyes, she's so full of disgust and hate and rage and sadness and shame, shame that cuts deeply into every bone in her body and sits back to watch her scream.

"It's best if you cooperate and tell us everything," Luke says in a low voice. "I…I can get him to spare you if you do."

Contempt wells up in her in the form of tears that slide down her face and drip onto the black rocks.

"Never," she gets out through gritted teeth. "My friends…"

"Would have rescued by now if they wanted to," Luke completes, and despite her better judgement Annabeth looks towards the forest where Percy must be hiding, waiting for a moment to strike, right?

Right?

Luke's voice is dripping in pity. "It's time to face the facts, Annabeth. You're on the wrong side. You need to think about whether you want to fight an enemy you can't beat, because if you do, you're going to die for it." He pauses. "I'll come and see you tomorrow."

Through the whiteness of her vision and the pain stealing her air, she slurs, "Don't…bother." Luke doesn't answer.

It takes her a minute - teeth clenched, nostrils flaring, every shift causing stars to burst in her arm — for her to lift her head, and she chokes out a sob when she finds the spot he'd been occupying empty.

It leaves her hollow.

Her eyes swivel back to the forest, and she wills for a miracle.

Her tongue thickens in his mouth. Heat soaks into the back of her shirt, makes the fabric hot. Every passing second her knees threaten to buckle and she staggers; her legs fold under him and she sinks further to the dirt that she can't even see. Sounds from around her feel muffled as though she's underwater. The black is returning, a ring around the white and closing fast until the dark has flooded the world and she's choking on it, flailing. Her lungs are heavy, filling with too much air and not yet enough.

She waits. And waits, and waits, until she's choking out sobs and trying to calm her shaking knees. It takes her a long time to figure that Percy and Piper and Frank have realized they can't do this on their own and have probably gone to get help. It takes still longer for her to accept that Luke is right. Nobody is coming for her anytime soon.

She shudders, and then the cocoon of hope she'd been nursing deep within her collapses in time with her agonized cry.

She is alone.

/

---

a/n:

as always, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated! i don't reply to comments on ao3, but i'm always active on my tumblr ( seaweedbraens) if you wanna hmu there

huge thanks to Multi Fandom Geekerello on ffnet for betaing! pls a round of applause for the poor dude for having to spot typos in this MONSTER FIC PLSSSSS

i have a list of easter eggs and a timeline and 3 extra stories that i will be publishing after i finish these 5 chapters so PLS GIVE ME MOTIVATION TO FINISH THIS HAS BEEN A PSA

i have a bunch of notes on hazel i used for this fic! pls DM me on tumblr if you wanna read :)

SHAMELESS SELF PROMO: i also started a whole ass enamel pin business ( bwnipins on instagram) that you can check out! i have pjo pins psssssssssssssssst come over to the dark side psssssssssssst

and stay safe, everyone!