Piper's p.o.v.

Two days earlier, 3rd level of the hospital, 10:30 p.m.

I yawned, restocking a box of thin rubber gloves on the shelf in the corner of the room. My eyes were already starting to droop. This week was becoming the longest of my life. The days were running together and I couldn't differentiate where one began and the other ended. Not thinking carefully, I had pushed the box too quickly and it scraped against the shelf before slamming into the back wall.

The loud noise made me jump and I turned to make sure none of the soldiers had been disturbed. They mostly just shifted in their cots before settling again. I went back to the supplies, thinking about all my friends, Annabeth and Will, had done for this place in the span of such a short amount of time. But I wished I could do more for these men. It wasn't enough for me to help save their lives; I wanted to comfort them and made sure they were going to be okay.

There was a loud whimper somewhere in the room. In the mostly quiet room I could hear everything, and I instantly located where the noise was coming from. There was a man in the opposite corner of the room, and he was beginning to violently twist and turn in his small cot. His broad shoulders almost reached both sides of his cot and his tall frame was only a little bit shorter than the bed itself. To tell the truth, he sort of looked like a figurine in a too-small doll house.

My breath faltered at the sight of his face. He was devilishly good-looking, but for some reason, I doubted that he knew it. I shook myself out of my reverie. He was having a nightmare for Paris' sake! Cautiously, I reached my hand out, and ran it over his forehead and through his golden blond hair. Over and over I did this, coming to sit on the edge of the bed.

The man sighed uncomfortably in his sleep, and I simply said, "Shhhh now soldier. Tout est bien maintenant." I slipped into my native French, "Vous êtes en sécurité."

I told him that all was well now, and that he was safe. My words seemed to comfort him, and he soon stopped moving. His breathing was even, so I stood to leave. It was time for me to go to bed anyway. But suddenly a hand grabbed mine, stopping me from leaving. I looked down at the man to see what was wrong. He was silent but our eyes met inevitably.

Blue.

So, so blue.

"Who—" He tried to say, but coughed instead. I took the handkerchief out of my nurse's apron and held it to his mouth as he tried to sit up. I ended up lacing my fingers through his hair on the back of his head to support him. His hair hadn't been cut in a while. When he finished coughing, he smiled gratefully at me.

"Let me get you some water." I said and made to move.

"No—" he protested and I smiled, humor evident only to me.

"I promise to come back." I assured him. I went to the other side of the room and returned immediately with a cup of water. "Here you go."

After sitting down on the edge of the cot, I held the cup to his lips and he lifted his hand, covering mine. For some reason, our slight hand touch made my heart flutter.

The soldier began to speak again, "Who are you?"

"My name is Piper. I am a nurse." I told him plainly.

"Really? I couldn't tell." He replied sarcastically, his thick English accent apparent. I scoffed in reply. I really wanted to hear him talk again. His accent wasn't like Will's. They were both from England, but their voices differed in a way I couldn't explain.

"And who are you?" I asked him.

"Lieutenant Jason Grace of the Lancashire Fusiliers in the Royal British Army." He affirmed.

"That is a very long title, Lieutenant Grace." I commented with a small grin on my face.

"My rank is who I am." Jason maintained.

I looked sadly at him then glanced away, biting my bottom lip. "I think that is an awful way to judge someone."

"Sorry?" Jason asked. "Do you not agree?"

He was indignant, so I indulged him. "No, I do not agree. You can be the best general in the world, but that doesn't make you the best person."

His eyes softened, "You have experience, I presume?"

I nodded somewhat, surprised he wasn't going to fight me on my opinion. Most men liked to dominate the conversation, but that wasn't the case with Jason Grace.

"Care to tell?" He inquired. I shot him a look saying that he was being a bit nosy. He laughed, a wonderful sound, and said, "I'm curious! This is the most conversation I've had in a week."

I looked at him inquisitively, then decided to tell him. What harm could it do? "My father works for your government. They view him as a great man—a wonderful man, and yet, he had no time for me."

"He's serving his country—" Jason protested.

"Well, he didn't have to ship me off to France to live with a nanny, now he?" I countered.

He didn't respond. I sighed and apologized, "I'm sorry. I suppose I am a bit upset about it after all these years."

"Where was your mother?" Jason asked quietly. I swallowed and peered out the small window.

"She lives in Paris. A clothing designer, no less. But she didn't want me any more than my father does. He just wants to marry me off. And that is what will happen as soon as the war ends." I met his eyes again. "I don't know why I am telling you all of this."

Jason paused before answering, "Probably because you want a male figure in your life, but not one who is telling you what to do every second of your life."

I shook my head, astounded, "How could you possibly know that? I met you only a few minutes ago!"

"I can read people pretty easily." Jason smiled proudly.

I smiled back, "Yes. You can." I paused. "Enough about me. What about you?"

The light in Jason's eyes dimmed and I wanted so badly to make him light up again. He replied, "I joined the war effort when I was—"

Suddenly I cut him off by putting my index finger to his lips. They were softer than I thought they would be. "Don't talk about the war. Tell me about you."

My interruption made Jason smile, and then I realized what I had just done. My eyes widened and I pulled my hand away, only to have it be caught in his once again. Slowly he brought it to his lips and kissed my fingers. I was mesmerized. Captivated. Enchanted by the way his touch made my heart beat faster.

Finally, he answered my earlier order, saying, "Yes ma'am. I was born the son of a general and an actress. My father left a year after I was born, being deployed somewhere overseas. My mother received notice a few months later that he had been killed somewhere in Central America. Distraught by the news, my mother could not care for me, so I went and lived with my sister, Thalia, who was staying with our aunt. She and my mother never got along. I got the feeling that my aunt didn't like us either. She was my father's sister."

Our hands stayed connected while he talked. Jason's story fascinated me. All of a sudden, I wanted to know everything about him. And more importantly, I didn't want to see him go. He would be sent to a more permanent hospital in Paris in just a few short days. My unexpected attraction to this lieutenant wasn't just going to stop. No, I would remember this time for the rest of my life, I was sure of it.

"I want to know more about you, Miss Piper." Jason said, not continuing with his life story.

"What would you like to know?" I smiled and bit my lip.

"What is your favorite color?" He asked innocently.

I laughed in response, "How personal of you, Mr. Grace! I like—"

He cut me off, "Jason."

"Pardon?"

"Call me Jason." He urged.

I found myself nodding, continuing my original line of speech. "Well, Jason, I like the color blue." Like your eyes, I thought to myself. "What's yours?"

"Purple," He replied instantly. "For some reason, the color reminds me of my father."

We were silent for a moment before his tone of voice changed to be grimmer.

"I hear all of these stories about him. The great and wonderful Jupiter Grace. He has so many stories about his bravery, and all I want to do is be a hero, just like him." Jason confided. "But it's so hard to act invincible like he did."

"Being a hero doesn't mean you're invincible; it means you're brave enough to stand up and do what's needed." I countered.

"You're right." He agreed after thinking about what I had said. Shifting his gaze from our entwined hands to my face, he said, "There's something about you, Piper. I don't know what it is, but something about you makes you so beautiful to me."

I flushed at his words, "What would make you say something like that?"

"I don't know." Jason remarked. "I've never said it to anyone before."

Somehow, my face reddened more than I had possibly thought it could. No one had ever talked to me like he was doing now. Downstairs the grandfather clock struck eleven times. It was late, and I had to be up early as it was.

"I have to go to bed." I told him and he nodded, closing his eyes. I untangled our hands and was about to move away. But then impulsively I leaned down and pressed my lips to his forehead. Practically scurrying out of the room, I descended the stairs to the main floor and left the cup next to the sink in the kitchen.

I blushed at the thought of someone seeing Jason and I. It certainly wasn't proper, what we had just done. Unchaperoned. Holding hands for the better half of an hour. I slipped into the room Annabeth and I shared with some other nurses silently. Though it was completely dark, my eyes adjusted quickly and I changed into my nightclothes, crawling into bed quickly because the floor was cold against the bare skin of my feet. It was mid-November now, and was getting colder every day.

As I lay there in the darkness, I thought about what my father had told me before I had set out for the warfront. That I would marry a soldier as soon as the war had passed. As soon as the treaty documents were signed, he said, I was as good as married.

Then I thought about Jason. It was so, so easy and nice to talk to him. I didn't think I would mind being married to him. No, not at all.

What was I saying?

The likelihood of us still knowing each other by the end of the war was nearly impossible. The chances of him still being alive by the end of the war was worse enough.

I didn't like those odds. How could I possibly hope, that out of everyone involved in this horrible war, Jason Grace would survive? And want to marry me by the end of it? As if.

But he did call me beautiful. Even now, I couldn't help but blush as my heart skipped a beat.

In a perfect world, everything would work out. We would meet, fall in love, get married, and live happily ever after. In a perfect world, maybe. But it wasn't perfect. Not even close. Fairytale endings just didn't happen to people like me.