Hello! It's been a while since I've posted a fic, or written anything but poems about my writer's block, but I'm finally writing again! Justia, thank you so much for answering my stupid questions even though I wouldn't tell you what this is about. Everyone else, welcome to the dark carnival.

It had been stupid. Really. He'd seen the monsters, just a few left over from the war who thought they were clever, trying to get close to the camp. Nico knew they wouldn't be able to get in, but they were a nuisance and it was before dawn- no one else was going to fight them off. So he strolled past Thalia's pine to get rid of them.

There were only six monsters, a ragtag bunch of cyclops and empousai and lycanthropes. Nico was sure they couldn't be a problem. Even just a week after the war- three days after being released from treatment- he knew that he could handle six monsters easily. That was what was expected of him, right? To always be ready to fight, no matter what happened to him, and deal with issues before they could become problems?

It turned out Nico could only handle about five and half monsters.

He took out the first three fairly easily, but the fourth managed to knock him off balance. Nico twisted away from the knife easily enough, but the hilt still struck him, causing him to stumble. He slashed out with less than his usual grace, but somehow managed a direct hit.

With four piles of sand around Nico, his immediate terrain was not optimal for mobility. The remaining two monsters- lycanthropes- were circling him, looking for an opening. Of course it had to be lycanthropes. They really hated him. He didn't let his guard down. Luckily, he had made sure to get some silver woven into his blade, with help from Lou Ellen, but there wasn't much- it was normal silver, not Artemis', and he didn't want to kill any mortals. He would have to land a very direct blow for them to die properly.

They lycanthropes were looking at Nico, and Nico was looking at the lycanthropes. They seemed well-matched. Except the lycanthropes literally were not looking at anything but him- not even the ground in front of them. Due to a slight dip in the ground, one lycanthrope fumbled a step.

Nico lunged, and took him out. He whirled around, perfectly aware that the last lycanthrope would be taking advantage of the opening, but didn't expect him to be quite so close. The wolf landed on him before he could even get his sword pointing with 180 degrees of his location.

Pinned under the wolf, Nico was still holding his sword, but his shoulder was pressed to the ground. If the lycanthrope shifted just a bit, Nico's shoulder would be free and he could probably flail his sword around enough to eventually kill the wolf.

As Nico planned and strained his shoulder against the lycanthrope, the wolf had been at work. Obviously, he was going to kill Nico, but he was taking his time with it. He was biting and clawing wherever he could reach. And his reach wasn't that great. To improve it, he shifted off Nico's shoulder.

Nico's arm flashed up, stabbing his dark sword into the wolf's side. It wasn't elegant, but it was fatal enough. He did his best to twist his blade around, even as he felt teeth sink into his neck. He met the wolf's eyes. They both knew they were going to die. But they were both rather okay with that, since they were taking the other with them. Strange, to have such an understanding with your killer.

He knew the stygian iron buried inside the wolf was darkening the lycanthrope's essence, making it- and the lycanthrope- slowly crumble away. It was a strange parallel to the darkness encroaching on Nico's vision.

Nico opened his eyes. He was in the back of a boat, riding on the Styx. Charon stood in his long black robe at the front, steering.

"No charge. This time," Charon said, without looking back.

This time? Charon never missed an opportunity to make a little gold. But Nico didn't have any gold on him anyway. Nico had no problem with getting a free ride, which he was probably getting because he was a son of Hades, but he still wondered. This time…

Charon dropped Nico off at the front of the line, next to Cerberus. He silently inclined his head, making Nico wonder even more. It seemed he still had some privileges in the Underworld, even when dead. He might have to see if he could make use of those privileges.

Bypassing the line, he walked straight up to Cerberus. "Hey, boy," he said softly, smiling a bit as Cerberus bent down his heads so Nico could scratch behind his ears. His smile flickered out as he realized his transparent hand went right through Cerberus. Cerberus whined, sniffing him wildly. Normally Cerberus loved smelling dead people, but he seemed almost distressed.

"I'll probably be around a lot more now. Hopefully I can still come play with you," Nico murmured to him.

Death really couldn't be that bad. If he could keep his freedom around the Underworld, he didn't really mind being confined there. He would see if his familial connections could make that happen. Of course, he wouldn't mind getting to see the sun again… not to mention a few people…

He'd been making friends. Yes, actual friends. They would assume he had left if they didn't find his corpse (during his fight, he'd gotten farther from camp than anyone would look). But he didn't want them to stumble across his mangled body. All of this was assuming he had some control over what would and would not happen. If he could bargain… Sisyphus got to go back and get a proper funeral. Why couldn't he? Sure, Sisyphus hadn't come back to the Underworld when he was supposed to, making Hades wary of those who asked for a similar deal, but Nico was his son. He'd gone on quests for his father before. Had he earned any trust?

He left Cerberus and walked on the path toward the Hall of Judgment. It was kind of sad, how familiar this all was. He had trod this path many times, each time wondering if he would ever go back. His business in the Underworld had always been a little risky and unsure, and even death, a seemingly straightforward process, would be complicated for him. Maybe he would be judged and have to stay where he was placed. Maybe he would get a little more freedom. He would find out soon enough.

Entering the Hall, Nico was surprised to see his father instead of the gold-masked judges. He approached, unsure and trying not to get his hopes up.

Upon reaching Hades, Nico knelt. He usually didn't kneel to Hades- compared to the average demigod, he had an easy-going relationship with his father- but this time he was technically one of Hades' subjects, as he was dead. It was an awkward situation, and as Nico was hoping for such an improbable outcome, he figured deferring to Hades probably wouldn't hurt his cause.

"You may rise," Hades said. Nico did so, and looked at him. Hades looked as though this situation was as weird for him as it was for Nico. Nico relaxed fractionally- he and Hades had always been too alike, matching each other in sarcasm and deadpan jokes. It made sense that neither of them would feel comfortable in this strange, unprecedented scenario.

"You want to go back." It wasn't a question.

"I know I'm supposed to stay here. And I will. But I don't want anyone to have to find my body. And if they don't find it, they'll assume that I ran away. I don't want that either."

"If I can trust you to come back, I suppose I can let you ensure that you get a funeral." Hades regarded him. With any luck, he was contemplating the quests Nico had done for him, how Nico played with Cerberus and did paperwork, and Nico's general reliability. Well, except for that one time he broke Percy out of Hades' dungeon. And the time he brought Hazel back to life. If Hades ignored those two major displays of defiance in favor of Nico's trustworthiness, he had a chance.

Abruptly, Hades said, "You have an hour."

Nico's world turned black.

Nico opened his eyes. He had eyes. They took in the world around him. The world that wasn't the Underworld.

He had a body, and he was above ground. Conclusion: He was currently alive.

Nico supposed it made sense, that Hades would be able to grant living bodies with beating hearts. Hazel definitely hadn't re-possessed her old body when he'd brought her back. It wasn't like anyone who had died could survive in their previous body. That was sort of why they had died.

Speaking of his previous body… it was lying just a few feet away from him. It really was rather mangled, he noticed detachedly. Nico conjured a black shroud out of the shadows, then hesitated. His "rather mangled" corpse would bleed all over this nice clean shroud if he wrapped it the way it was. His purpose was to ensure that no one had to find his bloody body. Having them find his bloody shroud-wrapped body would hardly be any better.

Obviously, he had to clean up the body. That would require water. Nico frowned as he recalled the troubles ghosts had with running water. Maybe he wasn't a ghost, and he'd never seen Hazel have any problems crossing rivers, but he didn't want to take his chances. Besides, Long Island Sound was a long walk from his current position, especially if he had to drag his corpse.

Nico settled for gathering the dew from the grass on a leaf and using that to wipe away the worst of the blood. He would have done more, but he suddenly remembered his time limit. Nico still had to get the corpse all the way up Half-Blood Hill. So he wrapped the corpse and began dragging it toward camp.

He didn't really want to have to enter camp. If someone saw him, there would be some awkward questions. At the same time, he really wanted to say goodbye, and have one more interaction with someone who was alive. Suddenly, he wished he'd spent more time at camp instead of running away.

Nico hesitated at the crest of the hill, behind Thalia's pine. Should he leave the shroud there, or take it into the camp? Should he take it to the Big House? Or to the campfire where it would be burned?

"Nico?"

He turned. Peering around the tree was Jason. Nico had forgotten about the camp's new patrols, a recent security measure that was sort of pointless, as the patrols started at dawn and ended at dusk, leaving the camp vulnerable during the night.

"Is that a corpse?"

Nico nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet. Of course it would be Jason. Of course he would notice the shrouded figure. Great, now he definitely had to say something. Stupid corpse.

"Would you mind taking this into camp for me?" He did his best to keep his tone casual. Maybe Jason wouldn't ask questions. Nobody would be curious about a corpse, right? It was just a dead body, surely he wouldn't want to know anything about it… nope, Jason would definitely ask. He was doomed.

Nico waited for the inevitable flood of questions, but none came. Instead, Jason studied him with some concern. "Nico… is something wrong?"

Nico shook his head curtly. He had to get this done. It was just business. But as Jason continued to appraise Nico, obviously unconvinced, he suddenly didn't want his last interaction with an alive human being to be just business. He wanted to talk, and tell Jason the truth, and just enjoy being with someone who cared about him.

He did his best to keep his face emotionless, but he must have been unsuccessful (or maybe Jason just decided to find his own answers) because Jason knelt next to the shrouded body. Nico didn't stop him as Jason gently uncovered the face. Nico's face.

Impassively, Nico watched Jason's face flit through expressions. Jason's eyes didn't move from the corpse's face. Nico couldn't blame him. Why would he even want to be near Nico, knowing he was dead? Despite the nice alive body he got to borrow, Nico was pretty much a zombie. It was a shame, really. He'd wanted to have a little more time with Jason, just being normal (or as normal as demigods could get), but it seemed this was the end.

"I'll just go, then," Nico mumbled. He slunk toward the shadow of Thalia's pine, knowing that as soon as he gave himself to it he would be back in the Underworld- for good this time. (Probably.) He wasn't expecting the arms that were suddenly around him, holding him close.

A million thoughts raced through his head. Jason didn't hate him. Jason wasn't freaked out that he was a zombie, or something. Jason was his friend. Jason was hugging him.

Nico really should've hung out more at camp. He might have gotten a lot more hugs. He might have even hugged some people himself. Nico knew he wouldn't have the chance to do so ever again, so he turned in Jason's embrace and hugged Jason back.

"I don't want to be dead," he found himself saying into Jason's shoulder.

"I know," Jason said gently. How did Jason know? Nico hadn't known, and he was the one who was dead! He hadn't expected leaving camp, and all the people he'd been getting to know, to be difficult at all. Leaving was easy. He'd done it before. No one would miss him.

Except Jason was holding him as if he were the most precious thing Jason had ever come across. Did that mean Jason would miss him? Jason always saw Nico as a person, with his own goals and fears. It would make perfect sense to Jason that Nico would want to have a future that involved being alive. Perhaps Jason overvalued him, and overestimated Nico's hope for a future, but Nico appreciated it.

He stayed that way for a while, leaning against Jason and enjoying being close to someone alive. He could feel the side of Jason's glasses against his head. Eventually, though, the shadows started whispering at him. His hour was almost up.

"I have to go," he said. He didn't move.

He felt Jason nod, but his arms tightened around Nico. He was quiet, not that Nico could blame him. What do you say to someone who's dead?

"I'll probably see you again," Nico said, not sure who he was trying to convince. "I mean, Bianca was able to send messages and stuff after she died. Maybe I'll haunt camp every once in a while."

He knew Jason was smiling that certain tight smile that tried to mask pain. Nico felt a pang- he really didn't want to go. But the shadows were whispering more urgently. Jason seemed to hear them as he reluctantly let Nico slip out of his arms. Nico walked the few paces to the shadows, but couldn't quite bring himself to take the final step just yet. He looked back.

Jason was digging in his pockets. He pulled out something that glinted in the early morning sun. A drachma. Wordlessly, he flipped it at Nico. Nico caught it reflexively, and looked at him. Jason was trying to smile.

"I'll make sure there's a night shift added to the patrols. And that there's never anyone patrolling alone," Jason said. Nico managed a small smile that faded quickly. Jason must have seen some of the marks on his corpse, as he'd apparently figured out how Nico had died. He wasn't supposed to have seen that. But at least no one else would die the way he had.

Jason seemed to have more to say, but he was biting back his words. Nico could only guess at what he might have to say. Maybe he wanted to chat about anything and everything but Nico's death. Maybe Jason, perfectionist Jason, didn't want to say a goodbye that wasn't perfect and worthy of being published. Maybe he didn't want to be the one who kept Nico too long and ruined Nico's chances in the Underworld.

The shadows behind Nico cooled the backs of his ankles, reminding him that time was up. He suddenly wanted to talk about how he was thinking of remodeling Cabin 13, or how Leo had died but might not actually be dead, or about the way Chuck Hedge looked up to Clarisse, even at his young age of one week. But if he wanted to keep Hades' regard and earn some privileges, he would have to willingly return immediately.

So he smiled one last time and took a step backward into the darkness.

Important: Nico's attitude that no one would miss him is unhealthy and incorrect. Please don't think that no one would miss you if you died today.

Also important, but less serious: I write and upload on my school laptop, which is being turned in tomorrow, so I won't be checking my email for a while. You know what would be really cool to see when I next check my email? A ton of reviews! Please tell me if you enjoyed this!