A/N: Not my most creative chapter title but here we go! I'm glad the reception for all the trauma has been going over well since that's... most of the story at this point, lol. Onward!

The old body couldn't cry over this anymore, so the new one would have to do.

Chapter Nineteen: Blood and Ink

Pain.

Sharp, constant, buzzing pain.

The tattoo on Rowan's ribcage hadn't been particularly fun when she had gotten it the first time. The needle scraped against skin, vibrating along each rib as there wasn't much in-between to cushion the jabs.

Each breath she took would move the skin, leaving her wincing in pain. She tried to be careful, as still as possible while the needle was touching skin to be sure that she would not disturb the careful linework or shading.

The first time she had gotten this tattoo done, she had expected to feel more self-conscious about lying there in a state of undress. Removing her shirt was not enough, for the top of the tattoo started beneath where the band of a bra would land. So, she had to remove that too, lying with a firm grip on Jack's hoodie she had been wearing, which was lying on top of her chest.

The tattoo stretched down along the side of her ribcage, over part of her stomach, and ended at her upper hip, which meant that her jeans were unzipped and adjusted so that her hip was exposed as well.

Thankfully, both times she had gotten this tattoo done, the artist had a room to work in that was a bit more private. Thankfully, both times she had gotten this tattoo done, any awkwardness was at a minimum as the artist was so very focused on the art.

Still, the ribs were a notoriously painful place to get tattooed. Part of her was genuinely annoyed that she had to do this again.

Another part felt immense relief.

Every rattling scrape of the needle against her ribs was painful and annoying, it left her raw and sore and throbbing, but it all made sense.

This wasn't happening to someone else and she was just so happening to feel it. It was happening to her. The ribs that were sore were her ribs, not some imitation that Apollo had crafted and provided her to use whether she wanted it or not.

When Moe would gently wipe away ink and blood, it was her blood that was being wiped away, blood that was spilled or the sake of art that she chose.

When she gritted her teeth, bracing herself to get through the pain of particularly painful areas, the teeth were hers, the straining mandible was hers.

When she tried to keep her breaths careful and still as Moe worked, the lungs holding that breath were hers, a version that had never filled with frigid water.

It was unsettling to remember that she got this new body, these new lungs, because the old one had drowned and was now buried. Embalming fluid had likely replaced the blood in that body, those lungs would never know oxygen again. The ribs, the teeth, the mandible would likely outlast it all until they finally turned to dust.

It wasn't something Rowan had let herself dwell on very much, but the pain of this body being broken in left her mind wandering to the newer cemetery where a headstone had her name and the old body was tucked away, out of sight.

Two versions of her existed in this world now, one being painfully modified to imitate the other that had been placed in a box for safekeeping. She wondered how long it would be until the one in the box was gone and there was only one of her again.

With every painful jab, she wondered if this body would ever really feel like the old one.

Her eyes welled with the realization that it never could.

The old one had been the one she had grown in, the one that leaned against the wall for her parents to mark her height, the one that had scraped knees on pavement when falling off a bike with freshly removed training wheels.

The old one had been the one to go through the awkwardness of puberty, the pain of braces, the self-discovery of hair dye and fake piercings.

The old one had been the one she had applied cheap drugstore makeup to, awkward and unprofessional until she properly got the hang of it and could manage something passable.

The old one was the one that had gotten these tattoos in the first place.

The old one was the one that had embraced her loved ones, had laughed and cried along with them, had danced at concerts, at homecoming dances, at the New Year's Eve Ball.

The old one was the one that had clung to Jack's shoulders every time he took her flying, had kissed him in her parents' kitchen, had curled up close to him as they slept.

The buzzing stopped. Rowan realized that a steady stream of tears had been flowing as she considered the reality that this body, even with the progress she was making, even with how right the pain of the needle felt, would never be her old one.

Moe had removed his gloves and was scribbling something on a piece of paper with a pen. She wiped her eyes and looked over as he held the paper up.

Does it hurt too much? Do you need a break?

The outlines for the tattoo were nearly done. Moe really did work fast; Rowan was sure it had taken longer last time.

"No, no, this is, uh," Rowan said, gesturing to her teary eyes. "This isn't because the tattoo hurts, the tattoo does hurt, but I can handle it. This is just, um. This is me missing my old body. Please keep going."

Moe nodded, then took the box of tissues that had been left on the chair she was sitting in earlier and set it next to her on the table.

"Thank you," Rowan said, taking a few as Moe nodded again and went to retrieve new gloves.

She did her best to get her bearings, wiping her eyes and her nose. Crying didn't feel disconnected in this body, she noted.

The old body couldn't cry over this anymore, so the new one would have to do.

Sniffling a bit, she laid back down, and soon buzzing filled her ears again.

Jack wasn't sure that he would ever get used to seeing Rowan's parents' house without all of the Christmas decorations. The roof was supposed to have plastic reindeer. The front room was meant to have a glistening artificial Christmas tree.

Rowan's bedroom was supposed to just look like a bedroom, not a place to store boxes from her apartment until her parents could bring themselves to do anything with them.

Jack was painfully aware of the amount of space between this little corner of Massachusetts and the North Pole. Tooth had spent the entire commute calmly asking him questions about the weather.

Were there places he liked to bring snow more than others? Was he behind places that hadn't had snow in decades suddenly getting snowfall, or was that climate change? How did he decide how much snowfall, or how little?

She was trying to be helpful again. Jack tried to focus on her questions, tried to remember that there was a time he would be absolutely thrilled that anyone was taking an interest in his work.

I just saw Rowan, she's fine. She's at the pole where it's safe and there's no reason for her to leave like last time. She's alive. She's fine.

He told Tooth that he most liked making it snow in Burgess. It was where he had figured out his powers through trial and error, and it was nice to come back and try new things.

As far as places that hadn't seen snow in decades, Jack could generally get a feel once he reached a certain region whether it would be out of line for him to make it snow or not. It felt like intuition at this point, but he had messed up a few times, leading to Mother Nature giving him an in-person lecture the first time and ominous storm clouds looming as a warning each subsequent time.

The amount of snow tended to follow a similar intuitive process, but sometimes his emotions got the better of him and snow fell heavier as a result. Mother Nature tended not to mind as long as snow was expected for the area anyway.

He kept reminding himself that Rowan was safe. Tooth kept asking questions. Eventually, too long for Jack's liking, they found themselves at the house that didn't feel right without Rowan or Christmas decorations.

"It's Saturday, isn't it?" Jack asked as he peered through the window of Bill's office, finding that it was dark.

"Yes," Tooth said, glancing through the next window over, finding that the view was blocked with curtains.

"So they shouldn't be working," Jack said, lowering himself down to the first floor and around to the back of the house to glance into the kitchen windows.

This proved to be successful, the couple visible past the window panes.

Bill was holding Linda, the basset hound, in his arms. He was standing before Dot, who was leaning against the counter and laughing as he spoke. He was moving Linda's paw about, as though to mimic someone talking with their hands.

Tooth lingered near Jack, peeking through the window in time for Linda to howl, loud enough to be heard from where the two immortals were perched. Dot and Bill each laughed at this, as though Linda was contributing to the conversation.

Dot stepped forward and kissed the top of Linda's head before Bill set her down. Linda howled again, her tail wagging.

"They seem like they're doing well," Tooth said.

Jack nodded. It had been a while since he had seen the couple more than vaguely sad.

"It's not a holiday or an anniversary or anything, that probably helps," Jack said.

This was good news. Jack had come to check on Rowan's parents and they were happy. They were playing with the dog. Things seemed okay.

This was good news.

Still, Jack's mind rushed back to seeing his family move on without him in Clio's historical records. He didn't want them to be miserable in his absence, of course, but Clio had put it quite simply when she had said, it's a lot to deal with, sometimes, knowing that your family's gone on without you.

It was probably for the best that Rowan didn't have to outright see it. He would describe her parents' happiness in the least amount of detail necessary, unless she prompted him for more, he decided.

"That's true, they're probably grateful that today can just be 'Saturday' for them," Tooth considered.

"We don't need to stick around," Jack said.

The last time he had checked in on the Sawyers, he had felt a strange sense of regret over the fact that they had never been properly introduced despite the affection that Jack had for their daughter.

Now he felt nothing short of guilt. They had spent twenty years raising a lovely girl that had been ripped out of their lives permanently, and here Jack was feeling anxious that he was a few thousand miles and a few short hours away from seeing her again.

"Have you checked on the kids in Burgess recently?" Tooth asked.

"No, not since Rowan's anniversary, I—I have no idea how to face Jamie right now," Jack said.

Jamie already knew more about Rowan's death than anyone else in her family, and it still wasn't the full story. Jack had two options in regards to the boy: either burdening him with more complicated magical knowledge that he would be unable to share with the rest of his family, or leaving him entirely in the dark about Rowan's return.

He could not tell Jamie about Rowan's return, not without discussing it with Rowan.

That left lying to Jamie, speaking to him casually as though his beloved cousin was very much still dead. If seeing Rowan's parents at a distance when he was actively in contact with Rowan again left Jack feeling remorseful, there was no way he was going to be able to speak to Jamie without being pinned face down to the floor under the weight of his own guilt.

"A new Muse is always complicated when it comes to family matters," Tooth said sympathetically.

Past the window pane, Linda was trotting off with the dog treat she had been given, determined to hide it somewhere for later. Bill and Dot were pretending not to watch, chuckling to themselves as Linda assessed different parts of the room as potential hiding spots.

Jack absentmindedly let the wind lift him to the roof, Tooth flying close behind.

"Have any of them successfully reconnected with their family?" Jack asked. He really only knew of Euterpe's attempts.

"It's a lot to ask of mortals who don't believe in magic or don't trust it. Euterpe kept in touch with one of her brothers, but that's the most success any of them have really had. I think Melpomene and Thalia each visited their mothers at their death beds, but neither of them really talked much about it. Some of them didn't have any family left at the time of their deaths," Tooth said. "Rowan's going to have to gauge how she thinks her family will react and if it's worth it to try to make contact, if that's something she wants to do."

"It hasn't really come up much," Jack said.

"There's a lot for her to consider," Tooth said. "I do not envy the Muses and what they go through when they become immortal."

"Yeah, it's… been a lot," Jack said.

"How are you holding up?" Tooth asked, settling down on the Sawyers' rooftop. Jack took a seat there, too. "It must be overwhelming for you too, to see her again."

"Well, we already established that I'm terrified of losing her a second time," Jack said with a heavy sigh, still itching to fly straight back to the North Pole, hoping that Rowan would be in one piece when he got back.

She's alive. She's fine.

"It was very hard for you the first time," Tooth said, that comforting hand back to his shoulder again. "I hope it hasn't all been anxiety and worrying about her well-being since her return."

"It's been a lot of it," Jack admitted. "I don't think the fact that she's really back has fully sunk in. I keep being suspicious of it."

"Things will settle into a new normal," Tooth assured him. "Give it time."

"I hope so," Jack said.

"Tell me the good things about her being back," Tooth said. "Sometimes, it helps to take a moment to acknowledge the good, so you don't get so overwhelmed by the bad."

Jack was thrown off by this prompt. He supposed he shouldn't be, as whenever Tooth was stepping in as "the Guardian tasked with getting Jack to talk about his feelings (snappier title pending)!" she tended to lean toward prompts like this.

Still, Jack had mostly kept the specifics of his relationship with Rowan vague with the other Guardians. North had been the only one that was outright encouraging of the relationship, and after Tooth had confessed to having a crush on Jack, it felt like it would be in poor taste to ramble on about another girl.

Not that Jack was one to ramble about Rowan even if Tooth hadn't admitted to any romantic feelings. The idea of filling others in on what was making him happy felt foreign.

People tended to share good news with their friends and family, that made logical enough sense.

But if the idea of approaching any of the other Guardians with the intention of discussing his troubles felt like overstepping, then the idea of approaching any of them to share good news felt completely bizarre. Why would anyone care to know if he was happy, that something good had happened to him? That was hardly important, in the grand scheme of things.

Is this just a variation of "nothing I do is enough?" Jack wondered, once more annoyed that Bunny had pointed out this thought pattern of his.

"It doesn't have to be a big thing," Tooth said, for Jack had been baffled over her request long enough that she felt the need to speak again.

"We went back to my cabin after she came back and it was overwhelming and she was in and out of tears, and it was a lot of difficult conversations," Jack said, knowing it wasn't a great start. "But we were also back to laughing at each other and teasing each other in under ten minutes."

"I'm glad to hear that," Tooth said, her smile sincere.

"You'll be less glad to know that we're back to our morning coffee," Jack said, once more feeling guilty as he thought of Rowan's parents in the kitchen. They were unable to have coffee with her anymore.

"Ugh, coffee!" Tooth said, wincing dramatically and managing to prompt a laugh from Jack. "Just please tell me you're brushing your teeth after."

"I am, I am, I have a proper bathroom sink now and everything," Jack said.

"Good, because I will be personally offended if you stain your teeth," Tooth said. "They are perfect the way they are."

"They're really not, if you really look at them—"

"I have!"

"Okay, yeah true, you have," Jack said. It was hard to forget that much-too-forward first impression Tooth had made.

"Despite the potential stains to your teeth, I know you really enjoyed having coffee with her before, so I'm glad you have that again," Tooth said.

"I am too," Jack said, though now he was considering earlier, when Rowan had lit the heat source for the coffee maker, her odd fixation on the flame. Her insistence that it had been nothing had been unconvincing.

Calliope had told him to step in if Rowan started to get destructive. Was that destructive? Was her pulling at her hair, tearing it from her scalp, destructive?

Jack wanted to ask Tooth her opinion, she knew the Muses (and possibly their responses to being resurrected) well. She wouldn't gossip among the group like the Muses likely would if he talked to one of them.

But Jack had been second-guessing his reaction to both Rowan's hair and the match from the moment the incidents occurred. He should probably talk to Rowan before mentioning anything to a third party.

"Ideally, you two would have bonded over a nice glass of tepid water, but here we are," Tooth sighed.

Jack managed a smile, hoping to shove his worries away again. "Oh, come on, not even ice water?"

"Ice is bad for your teeth!"

"I think mine can handle it."

"I hope so!" Tooth said, laughing slightly again. "Tell me something else good about Rowan being back."

"Hm," Jack said, considering. So far, this hadn't been as awkward as expected. "She's drawing again. Not a lot, but she did a few sketches yesterday."

"That's very good news!" said Tooth. "I know it made immortality a little easier to cope with for the others when they realized they would have so much time to dedicate to their craft."

There was a bark. Jack and Tooth each turned to see the Sawyers' back yard, Linda now standing there with her sight locked on the mythological beings.

She barked again, and again, clearly concerned that there was someone on her roof.

"I think that's our cue," Jack said, rising to his feet again. Tooth's wings fluttered and lifted her from the roof as well.

"I think so. You go ahead and lead the way," Tooth said.

She offered the dog a nervous wave before Jack kicked off the roof, already heading north again.

Rowan was sitting on a stool, back to wearing a camisole, her hair pulled up and away. She had already checked, using multiple mirrors, the position of the stencil on the back of her neck and given her approval. Moe was setting up the tattoo machine again.

Both her wrist and her ribs were covered by clear plastic wrap, both to keep blood and ink from her clothes and to keep the tattoos clean. Her wrist throbbed and itched, somehow already scabbed over and swollen, which didn't usually happen this soon.

Was that part of being immortal? Was she really healing quicker than she had when she first got the tattoos? She had only tried to inspire Jack for a few minutes that morning and had largely felt like a failure while doing so.

A knock came at the door. Moe babbled, loud enough for whoever was on the other side to hear.

The doorknob turned and Erato entered, Cupid close behind, his wings tucked in close to him to avoid snagging them on the door frame.

"Thought we'd check in, how's everything going?" Erato said, her tone gentle.

Rowan was sure that it was obvious that she had been crying, and felt grateful that Erato hadn't immediately fussed over it. She didn't want to try and explain anything right now.

"We're more than halfway done, the one on my side was the big one," Rowan said, forcing a smile.

"Well, that's good! You can always take a break and come back," Erato reminded her.

"I want this done today," Rowan said, shaking her head. Moe set a hand to her head to keep it still and she cringed, embarrassed. At least he hadn't actively been tattooing her. "Sorry, Moe!"

The yeti babbled, a statement she didn't understand, but he didn't seem upset.

"Shame you came back without them," Cupid said. He seemed cautious in his words, as though unsure how Rowan would react.

He hadn't seemed so apprehensive the last time Rowan had spoken to him. And why should he be? Cupid might look like a handsome seventeen-year-old but he was ancient, he was powerful, he was a god.

Who was he to be nervous around her?

Rowan had to remind herself that the last time she had spoken to Cupid had been over a year earlier.

She had to remind herself that based on Jack's long recap of the previous year, Cupid had been leaking information to Artemis that got him put on probation with the alliance, that he had barely healed from both a broken wing from battle and a black eye from Apollo's own fist.

Perhaps he wasn't sure how much Rowan knew, or how she would feel about any of it. It hadn't really occurred to her to be angry with the boy, perhaps because Jack wasn't angry and hadn't framed anything too badly.

There had been so much bad news to come back to. Cupid leaking information to Artemis was less dire than what she had done with it. All of it was less dire than the fact that Rowan had been dead for a year.

Besides, Cupid had been one of the immortals that had been kind to her. He had spoken with her casually while most of the Muses had kept their distance.

"Welcome back, by the way," Cupid added, eye contact a challenge.

"Thanks, I guess," Rowan said. It still felt weird that she had been gone, that "welcome back" was a reasonable thing to say to her. She felt like she had just seen him!

"I'm, um. I'm sorry about everything, I don't know what all you've been filled in on," Cupid said hesitantly, confirming her suspicions. "I'll give you a, uh, a real, proper apology when you're not trapped in one spot getting stabbed by a needle."

"I think Jack filled me in on everything, but it was a lot of information all at once," Rowan said. Moe's arm reached forward so Rowan could see his thumbs-up. She returned the gesture to indicate that she was ready.

The buzzing filled the room again and she winced as contact was made. She continued, "I haven't had a lot of time to think much about it all."

Cupid nodded. "That's understandable. The first week or two seems to be the hardest for everyone. I hope the tattoos help."

"I hope so too. Dying my hair did," Rowan said.

"I'm sure it will," Erato said. Rowan hoped that she was right, that it wasn't just an attempt on Erato's part to make her feel better in a truly hopeless situation.

Rowan found her gaze drifting to the floor, unwilling to look either of the beings in front of her in the eye as she considered yet again that no matter how correct this body felt, it wouldn't ever be the old one. She had already cried over this today and didn't want to break down again.

A figure appeared in the still-open doorway and Rowan glanced up, careful to keep her head and neck still, moving only her eyes.

Jack sighed heavily when her gaze met his. "Still at it?" he said, entering the room. Tooth was close behind him.

"Still at it," Rowan said. Cupid stepped around her to peer over Moe's shoulder at the in-progress design.

"You must have quite the pain tolerance," Tooth said, wincing at the sound of the needle.

"I think I'm just stubborn," Rowan said, forcing another smile. The way Jack was eying her, with a slight frown, implied that he was worrying about her again.

"It helps that Moe works fast, he's already got one word done," Cupid commented. "It looks good."

Moe babbled something with the inflections of a "thank you."

"I'm doing fine," Rowan said, mostly for Jack's benefit. He still looked skeptical.

"Well, we'll let you get back to it," Erato said, already heading for the door.

"Thank you," Rowan said.

"Are we finally going to get some more target practice in? You've been slacking," Cupid said to Jack as he headed for the door as well.

"I've been busy!" Jack said at once.

"Excuses," Cupid taunted.

"Target practice?" Rowan repeated.

"Jack is teaching Cupid to throw, Cupid is teaching Jack to shoot, it's very sweet," Erato said from her spot in the doorframe.

"It's not sweet," Cupid sighed. "He's a terrible student."

"You're a terrible teacher," Jack retorted.

"You two should go ahead and practice, Rowan will probably still be a while," Erato said, finally leaving the doorway.

"Yeah, I still have one more after this," Rowan said when Jack glanced back her way again.

"I want to see how bad of a teacher Cupid is, come on," Tooth said to Jack.

"You guys go ahead, I'll catch up in a second," Jack said. Tooth and Cupid each nodded before departing the room, Tooth asking Cupid how practice had really been going as they went.

Jack leaned over to better be on Rowan's eye level and she forced another smile. She didn't want him to worry about her, not over the tattoos.

"You're doing okay?" he asked.

"I am," Rowan said. She waited for Moe to pull the needle away from her neck before shifting enough to hold out her wrist to show Jack the plastic covering the new tattoo, splotchy with ink and blood. "It's hard to tell, but I think it's already healing."

"That's good," Jack said, though his brow was furrowed at the sight.

"We listened to Antonio Vivaldi earlier," Rowan said. The record player was still going, playing a different composer now.

"Yeah? What did you think?" Jack asked, the worry in his expression softening at the subject change. Good.

"'Winter' really didn't have to go that hard," Rowan said.

"It's the best one, right?" Jack said. "I know I'm biased, but…"

"It's absolutely the best one," Rowan agreed. "Not that I'm unbiased."

She winced as the needle dragged across a particularly painful spot. Jack winced as well.

"Speaking of, did you spend any time spreading winter?" Rowan asked, still wincing.

"A little," Jack said. "I checked on your parents."

"Yeah?" Rowan said, bracing herself for impact, both of the needle and of the next statement. She was unsure how she would feel about an update about her parents, even though she was the one that had asked for it in the first place.

She had been avoiding spending too much time thinking of anything she had, technically, lost.

"Yeah. They're fine. They were talking in the kitchen," Jack said. It was the least amount of information he could give.

"Okay. Okay, good, thank you," Rowan said, not sure she could deal with more information at this specific moment, wincing as the needle met the back of her neck again.

When the needle was pulled away again, she reached her hand, the same one with the wrapped wrist, toward him. He took her hand and they each squeezed, smiles felt a bit less forced.

"Erato is right, I'm still gonna be a minute, go ahead and train with Cupid," Rowan said.

Jack eyed their hands, hesitant.

"I'm gonna be fine," Rowan felt the need to add.

Jack sighed, eyes meeting hers again. "I'm going to be on the bottom floor, in the training room."

"Okay," Rowan said. He squeezed her hand again before standing up straight. He kept an eye on her the entire way out of the room, eye contact only broken when he carefully pulled the door closed behind him.