A/N: I've mentioned before that I have a one-shot that I posted for Pride (which you can find on my tumblr, or over on AO3 in the "Extras!" part of the Something Quite Peculiar series) back in June. A big reason I wrote the one-shot was because during my long break I figured that Rowan was bisexual. Ideally, that would have been outright stated back in Something Quite Peculiar properly, but it's a bit late for that now. The one-shot was an attempt to give actual story content that states this explicitly.

I mention this, because this chapter is the first time in the actual contained story I'll be outright stating that she's bisexual, and if you are unaware of this extra little one-shot I did, that might leave you asking if you missed something. Onward!

"So why do you do it, then? Why do you get so invested in the ghosts?"

"I guess I like the idea that death isn't as final as it seems."

Chapter Four: Biding Time

Calliope felt as though every muscle in her body was tensing and prayed that it did not show.

Clio and Erato had insisted on coming along again. It was nightfall, the moon was waxing, nearly full. The light of the fire was warm and inviting, though the way it lit up Artemis' face did not make her seem any more welcoming.

Artemis was always intimidating. Perhaps it was just her face, perhaps it was something that she actively worked at. Calliope was inclined to believe that a lot of it was simply genetic, for Apollo and Artemis sported similar sneers, similar smiles, similar airs of condescension.

The twins were more alike than either of them would ever admit to, and Calliope had spent many sleepless nights wishing that the pair would just learn to deal with each other. If nine Muses could support each other when they really needed to, surely Apollo and Artemis could bother to try and do the same.

But no, if that were the case then Calliope would not be taking careful steps toward Artemis now, running over rehearsed lies in her head, praying for the best but preparing for the worst. Erato and Clio walked at Calliope's heel and Artemis rose to her feet to greet them as they approached.

A kiss on each cheek, a greeting of friends, family.

"You have all healed well, it seems," Artemis said, taking a seat by the fire and gesturing for the others to do the same.

"Quite well, thank you," Calliope said. The last time the three of them had visited, of course, they had left with arrows through their torsos to sell the idea that Artemis was upset with them, to sell further that they were loyal to Apollo.

While Calliope had been the only one to have been hit by two arrows, Erato had taken her wound the worst, triggered into the worst flashback the Muse had experienced in centuries. It was for this reason that Calliope had insisted to Erato, specifically, that she didn't need to come along this time.

But Erato held firm. So, here the three of them were, smiling pleasantly for the woman that had sent them back home bloody.

"To what do I owe the pleasure? Your deadline has not yet passed," Artemis said, gently stroking the head of one of her hunting dogs, who set her head in Artemis' lap and eyed the goddess woefully.

Calliope knew very well that Artemis doted on her dogs, the woeful gaze being the melodramatics of a canine that was well taken care of but craved more attention anyway. Another was nudging her nose at Clio's hands for similar reasons. A third was curled up practically on top of Erato's feet, as though to keep track of her.

A few others were sleeping soundly by the warmth of the fire, and on the outer perimeters a few more were pacing, keeping watch.

"Yes, we need to discuss the deadline, as it were," said Calliope.

"Oh?" Artemis said, already seeming unamused.

"Yes, as you very well know, we are leaving Apollo in part because he has not been there for us, he has cared little about our well-being," Calliope said. "Even when we are newly immortal, he does not give us any guidance, we must provide it for each other."

"And by now we are very good at that," Erato said. "But it takes time. The early days are so overwhelming. We are—well, we were—only human, after all."

"Yes, we are not blessed with the stoicism, the competence, that you were gifted with immediately," Clio added. "If only we were all so lucky to be so capable so early."

"I had to be," Artemis said, her tone somewhat bitter. "My mother was struggling to give birth to Apollo by herself, so I helped her. No one else would."

"And isn't that the eternal curse of the eldest daughter?" Calliope said. "Always the one that has to provide support? Always the one that has to help the parents, to keep an eye on things? The one that must set a good example? It's a heavy burden to bear but so important, don't you agree?"

Artemis eyed Calliope thoughtfully for a moment before saying, "Get to the point, Calliope."

"The point is, if Rowan returns to us, she needs time," Calliope said. "If she returns to us, you want all ten of us to declare our loyalty to you, correct?"

"Of course," Artemis nodded.

"If we want her to participate, if we want her to feel confident in that declaration, she needs a little time after she returns to us to get her bearings. It will not be feasible for us to declare our loyalty to you the same day," said Calliope.

"And how much extra time was it that you wanted?" Artemis said, ceasing to pet the dog whose head was on her lap in favor of crossing her arms before her. The dog whined softly.

"Until the following full moon, Valentine's Day," Erato said. "It's only a little over two weeks. Picture it, all ten of us, plus Cupid, standing below a glorious full moon and declaring you the superior leader."

"We would have time to make a big show of it," Clio added before Artemis could make a remark. "Just imagine, a dramatic display! Apollo loves a good show, and how satisfying would it be for him to enjoy the theatrics only to have the curtain pulled on him at the end?"

Artemis' frown deepened, her fingernails tapping against her arm as she considered this.

"I know you had wanted to break it to Apollo the same day, but everyone knows we're waiting for this anniversary. Everyone is going to be on-edge because the magical community at large knows we'll be distracted, we're already working on extra security measures," Calliope said.

This was an uncomfortable fact. Daedalus had told Polyhymnia that Pitch had toyed with the idea of making a move the day of Rowan's anniversary. He surely could not be the only one keeping tabs on the day in the hopes of a strategic advantage.

North's additional magic protections on Jack's cabin was only one of the precautions they were putting in place. Tooth had been practicing more drills with her fairies and mice. North planned on dispatching yetis to keep tabs on other magical home bases, Bunny planning the same with some of his sentient egg statues.

Even the ruins of Mount Parnassus now had extra enchantments and the pillars that would take them back inside their base was at least a quick and efficient escape route if things came to that.

Everyone was keeping a careful eye out for any sort of clue. Everyone was carrying multiple portals in case the need for a hasty escape became necessary.

With luck, the day would pass otherwise normally.

"If we wait this extra time, Apollo will truly believe he's won, he will have lulled himself into a false sense of security, of victory," Clio said.

"Don't you want to knock him off the highest pedestal possible?" added Erato.

"I have already waited months," Artemis said, her tone sour.

"It will be worth it, I promise you," Calliope said.

"And if this one doesn't return?" Artemis said. "What then?"

"We would still like the extra time, like we said, really let Apollo get comfortable, really let us prepare a show," said Erato.

Artemis sighed heavily, still tapping her fingers.

"This is the last extension," Artemis said. "This will be done the Fourteenth of February. I will not wait for the fifteenth."

"Absolutely," Calliope said at once.

"Thank you so much, Artemis, we knew that you would hear us out," Clio said.

"This is why we're choosing you," said Erato. "You actually care about us. Apollo would never be so reasonable."

"Yes, I suppose that is true," said Artemis. "Do not disappoint me."

That was a promise that certainly could not be kept. "Disappointed," was the least of what Artemis would be feeling by the time this new deadline had passed.

Calliope could only pray that Artemis truly believed what they were telling her.

"We wouldn't dream of it," Calliope said.

Zippo lighters were, objectively, very cool. They were metal, sleek, shiny, and using one just felt different from using one of the cheap plastic ones that came in neon colors. Not to mention, the light was a lot harder to accidentally put out when the weather was bad.

That was, if one actually remembered to refill the lighter fluid.

"Come on, come on," Teddy mumbled, cigarette between his teeth and eyes fixed as he flicked the striker on his lighter, resulting in nothing but some sad sparks. It was slow at the coffee shop, currently, so he had ducked outside, braving the cold, for a smoke break.

But, it looked as though he would have to go back inside and ask Quinn if he had brought his lighter. At least he was not the only one scheduled to work with this bad habit.

"You know, those are gonna kill you."

Teddy glanced up in time to see Shirley approaching him, bundled up in the cold and by herself this time.

"Not if I can't get it lit, it won't," Teddy said, the cigarette still in his teeth and only slightly muffling his words. Shirley was digging through her purse now, and soon enough produced one of those cheap plastic lighters. Teddy stuck his zippo in his pocket before taking the lighter she held out to him. "Bless you."

"Mmhm," Shirley said as Teddy successfully lit the cigarette and took a drag. He handed her back the lighter. "Haven't had a chance to text much since the semester started, I keep forgetting to ask how the tour went."

"It was good, we moved a lot of merch. A lot of kids showed up with homemade merch, that was really cool," Teddy said. It was surreal that their little band was starting to catch on, that people outside of their parents (well, not Teddy's parents) were bothering to listen.

"And the, uh, ghost sighting?" said Shirley.

"I thought you didn't want me talking to you about ghosts anymore," Teddy said, casually taking another drag of his cigarette as he cocked a brow.

"Nicolette texted me about it," Shirley sighed. "I don't know what to think about it anymore, honestly. Nothing about Rowan ever gets any clearer. I mean, it's been over a year since she went missing and we have the same amount of information we had in the first place."

Teddy nodded. "So, you're open to the ghost thing now?"

"I don't know. Not really. But I was hoping the police would have found something by now that would give us options besides ghosts or aliens or demons or whatever the internet is saying lately," Shirley said.

"Having faith in any part of the government is always gonna be your first mistake," Teddy said matter-of-factly. "Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if there was some weird government shit going on the night of that quote-unquote 'earthquake.'"

"So, you've moved on from ghosts to government conspiracies?" Shirley said, her tone condescending. She seemed to realize this at once, however, wincing slightly.

"First, I'll never move on from ghosts or government conspiracies," Teddy said, ignoring Shirley's tone, as he was prone to do. "But, I have been thinking off and on about Jack Overland and how he might, in fact, be more than a ghost."

"Like a… friendly ghost?" Shirley said, brow furrowed.

"I think Jack Overland is Jack Frost," Teddy said.

Shirley closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deep, her mouth a thin line. She seemed to be trying to maintain whatever composure she had.

"If you don't want to hear it, you shouldn't have asked," Teddy said, taking another drag.

"Okay, okay, I'll bite: why do you think that Jack Overland is Jack Frost?" Shirley said, her frown fixed.

"Because first of all, Rowan's drawings of Jack Frost are clearly based on her drawings of Jack Overland, or vice-versa, they're meant to be the same guy, he's just got a different color palette," Teddy said.

"I think she based her Jack Frost drawings on Jack Overland, not the other way around," Shirley said, brow furrowed.

"I was looking into it, though, and Jack Frost doesn't start showing up in literature until the early 1700s, around when Jack Overland was meant to have died," Teddy said.

"So, you think he's both," Shirley said. "That Jack Overland died and became Jack Frost?"

"Why not?" Teddy shrugged.

"Because Jack Frost is an expression more than anything else, Teddy," Shirley said with a heavy sigh. "Do you think Santa Claus is real too?"

"St. Nicholas was a real person, we know that," Teddy said, the smoke from his cigarette wafting about as he spoke with his hands. "Was he the guy in the Coke ads? No. But he existed at one point, and from there we landed on Santa Claus. What if Jack Overland, ghost or not, what if he was the starting point for Jack Frost?"

"In Rowan's drawings, sure, but anywhere else?" Shirley said.

"Oliver and I both saw him, dressed like he was going to some reenactment or something, and I threw a marker at him to see if it would go through him. And when he threw it back it was covered in ice," Teddy said. "I think he's absolutely the kid that drowned in Burgess back in the 1700s, and now I think he's Jack Frost, too. Maybe after he died and started haunting the place, he started leaving ice behind and people started calling him that."

"Okay, fine, let's say that for the sake of argument, Jack Overland is a ghost or Jack Frost or whatever, he's wandering around, he met Rowan," Shirley said. "Jack Overland, the one that died in Burgess three-hundred-whatever years ago? That bitch was a Puritan. You think Rowan Sawyer, Tattooed-Bisexual-Agnostic-Feminist-Attended-Art-School Rowan Sawyer, was hanging out with a Puritan?"

Teddy grinned, flicking ash from the end of his cigarette. "And how do you know that Jack Overland was a Puritan?"

Shirley paused, eyes wide. "You said he was, didn't you?"

"Nope," Teddy said. "Have you been looking into this too?"

Shirley frowned again. "So, I did a search or two."

"You're invested in the ghost shit now," Teddy said in a sing-song voice.

"I still don't think it's what's happening," Shirley said, shaking her head.

"Mmhm," Teddy said, taking another drag.

"I'm just saying, even if this specific Jack Overland was a ghost, a Puritan wouldn't want to hang out with Rowan, and Rowan wouldn't want to hang out with a Puritan," Shirley said.

"She hung out with Danny," Teddy countered, rolling his eyes. "He was so square the Puritans probably would have told him to lighten up."

"And Rowan was done with him weeks before she finally pulled the trigger and broke up with him," Shirley said. "You don't go from someone like Danny to a fucking Puritan, you go from someone like Danny to—to I don't know, but something more fun than Danny."

"Rowan said Jack was fun. Maybe he was a shitty Puritan," Teddy shrugged. "I mean he went to at least one rock show."

Shirley shook her head. "It doesn't make any sense. None of this does."

"It makes a hell of a lot more sense than the electoral college and we still have to deal with that shit," said Teddy. "Trying so hard to disprove this ghost thing isn't going to give you the quote-unquote 'real answer,' you know."

"I just want something that makes sense," Shirley said. "A straight answer so I know why my friend isn't here anymore."

"There's never gonna be a good enough answer for that," Teddy said, frown fixed. "Ghosts, cults, kidnapping, government conspiracies, mythical beings, aliens, whatever it ends up actually being? It won't be good enough. A twenty-year-old is still dead."

The pair were quiet for a moment, Shirley watching as a car drove by, Teddy taking another drag on his cigarette.

Teddy had actually managed to show a little emotion outside of snark or innuendo. He knew that Shirley felt that the conspiracies and supernatural stories he dug up were doing little more than trivializing Rowan's death. It wasn't as though he hadn't been paying attention the times she had told him to shut up, it wasn't as though he hadn't heard her heavy sighs or seen the rolls of her eye.

But, Rowan had been his friend, too.

She was a charismatic, creative girl who dyed her hair and complimented his tattoos the first time they met. They had discussed ghost encounters and interesting theories. He taught her a few tricks in Photoshop. She had always been willing to give constructive feedback on his sketches, since he had gone ahead and gotten himself a "real" degree rather than attending art school like he would have been better suited for.

Rowan was practically tailor-made to be friends with weirdos like Teddy. It wasn't as though he didn't have other friends, but her absence in the line-up was one that was disappointing, to say the least.

"So why do you do it, then?" Shirley finally said. "Why do you get so invested in the ghosts?"

"I guess I like the idea that death isn't as final as it seems," said Teddy. "I like the idea that in this shitty, shitty world maybe someone is keeping an eye on you, maybe there is magic or something bigger than us. Plus, I watched way too much Scooby-Doo as a kid."

"But none of those monsters were ever real," Shirley said.

"It just means you gotta look past the surface," Teddy shrugged, flicking ash into the nearby snow.

Maybe there wasn't anything to find past the surface. Maybe they would never actually know what happened to Rowan. Even if Teddy did manage to track down Jack Overland's restless spirit again, a task that he had no idea how to achieve, he may be left with only his theories, his guesses.

But maybe that was still better than the alternative, an uncritical acceptance of not having any answers at all.

"Okay, first of all, you're slouching."

"How the hell is this slouching?"

"How is it standing up straight? Do I need to get a book for you to balance on your head or some shit?"

Jack sighed. "Are you gonna teach me table manners, too?"

The training room in the North Pole was large and this bickering echoed off the walls. In the distance was a number of targets set up for practice. Not that the targets mattered much at the moment, for Jack hadn't taken a single shot.

"I mean, you could probably use it," Cupid said. "You do know how to use a knife and fork, don't you?"

"They're the pointy ones, right?" Jack deadpanned.

"Just stand up straight."

Jack sighed heavily again, attempting to further fix his posture that he was already certain was fine.

"Better, now draw."

Jack raised Cupid's bow and pulled back on the bowstring, no arrow currently present. He hadn't expected it to take so much effort to pull back, but wasn't about to let Cupid know that. The other boy eyed him critically.

"Lower your shoulders, they're too tense, your back should be doing most of the work," Cupid said. "And raise your elbow, it's too low."

Jack complied.

"Better. Okay, your grip's good, your stance is fine… okay, don't release the bowstring, just bring it back to how it was before and then you can try with an arrow."

"Finally," Jack said. As Cupid handed him an arrow, one of the lead rejection variety, the door to the training room opened and the sound of heels clicking against the floor echoed.

"Nicky said you two would be down here," Erato said, approaching the pair. "What's this about archery lessons?"

"It turns out that Jack can throw about as well as I can shoot," Cupid explained. "Which means there's no challenge when we compete."

"Aw, so you two are going to swap and teach each other?" Erato said, her hands clasped before her chest as she spoke, a sentimental smile clear in her voice.

"Don't say it all saccharine like that," Cupid sighed.

"He's not a very good teacher," Jack said, though he wasn't sure how much better he would be when it came time to teach Cupid to throw.

"Yeah, well, you're a lousy student," Cupid quipped. He turned his attention back to his mother. "How'd it go with Artemis?"

"We got the extension," Erato said, seeming relieved to say as much.

"Do you get the extension whether Rowan comes back or not?" Jack asked. All he knew was that the Muses were attempting to buy more time and that a big factor in wanting this time was Rowan's participation in their coup.

"Yes," Erato nodded.

"Good," Cupid said, glancing at the bow in Jack's hands. "Gives me a little extra time with it."

"You're getting rid of this?" Jack said. He had already been surprised that Cupid had let him handle the bow at all. Jack didn't know a lot about Cupid's bow, just that he had possessed it for an amount of time so long that the number of years didn't make much sense as a number anymore.

"It was a gift from Artemis and Apollo," Cupid said, frowning. "I denounce them, then I reject the bow."

"You don't have to. It was a gift," Erato said. "Melpomene and Thalia are still debating about their masks."

"I can use any bow," said Cupid. "They need their masks to focus their powers. It's a different situation."

"I know, but you've had it for so long," said Erato, eying the item in question fondly. "Before you could walk, you had it. It grew with you."

"Yeah, well, new beginnings and all that," Cupid said. He refocused on Jack and gestured to the bow and arrow in his hands. "Take a shot."

"Finally," Jack said again, drawing back the bowstring.

"Shoulders," Cupid said before Jack had a chance to even consider releasing the arrow. Jack made the adjustment, but not without rolling his eyes. Before Cupid could make another comment, Jack released the bowstring with a snap.

The arrow veered to the side and landed in the bottom of the target beside the one Jack was aiming for.

"Well, that's something!" Erato said cheerfully.

"We were going for the one on to the right of that," Cupid said.

"Ah," said Erato, though she was still smiling encouragingly.

"You gotta let your fingers kinda roll off the string, watch me," Cupid said, taking the bow back. He and Jack swapped places so that Jack could watch properly. Within an instant, another arrow was shooting through the air, straight through the bull's eye.

"Slow down, Sweetheart," Erato said, patting Cupid on the shoulder. "Like when you have to explain it to me."

"Right, right. Habit," Cupid sighed. He went through the motions again, this time much slower than before, giving Jack a chance to actually watch what he was doing.

"Okay, let me try again."

Sometimes, Calliope liked being a bird more than she liked being human (or, whatever one was considered to be after gaining immortality in the manner the Muses had). She had envied birds in her mortal life, free of expectations, free of obligations.

Flying was a wonderful feeling. Gliding through the air and watching the world get smaller, less significant as she went. It felt like the only time she was allowed to truly enjoy the sun, the wind, was when she was a bird.

All she had done since becoming a Muse was collect more and more responsibilities and expectations as she collected more and more sisters. In an overwhelmed attempt to free herself from it all as a mortal, she had become doomed to carry even more burdens for eternity.

But not when she was a bird.

Sandy never questioned when she would visit as a bird, allowing her to perch on his shoulder and nuzzle against his cheek as he worked, casting dreams down below.

Calliope had always envied his work. It was silent, calm, beautiful, to create magnificent images and release them to live in a child's mind. He seemed to still love it, still enjoy it immensely, even after all these years.

Calliope tilted her head up as images began to flash above Sandy's head, still perched on his shoulder.

"Yes, we got the extension," she said, her voice low.

Sandy nodded, smiling softly.

And that was that. Calliope nuzzled against his cheek again.

For a moment, everything was calm. She felt at peace.

She knew that this moment would soon end, and made a dedicated effort to appreciate it while it was there.