AN: I don't own PJO or HOO. Though the premise is based around HOO and its characters, I don't profit at all and changes to the story come completely from my brain. All credit for PJO and HOO and the characters goes to dear old Rick.

Tempting the Fates

Chapter Thirty Four

Just Your Average Friendly Titan

Bob

It turns out that finding a job for a Titan in the Underworld isn't as easy as Nico made it sound. Lady Hades growled something about clashing with the scenery? But Bob did not clashing, not a single bump. He might have been over ten feet tall but he was nimble for his size. No, he didn't knock over a single headstone or statue of some old dead one-person-or-another. Still, he'd stayed hopeful with the younger boy at his side as they made their way across his father's kingdom until they settled on just the right job.

Nothing had felt as at home in his hands as the large push-broom.

Still, the Lady Hades had looked down her long pointed nose at him. Surely, they had enough caretakers in the Underworld. The ghosts. The zombies. They hardly needed anyone of Bob's caliber to help with janitorial duties. The Queen paced as she spoke, flowers woven in her hair and more flowing from the lengths of her gown. Everywhere she stepped seeds and pollen were dragged in her wake. No one so much as batted an eye at this.

Not until, at least, Bob had piped up that if they did such a great job at cleaning up then why were the hallways covered in pollen? And didn't the Lady Hades realise she was leaving a trail of pitch behind her. Her eyes had gone wide and a hand lifted to her mouth in horror at the insinuation.

Next to him, Nico had bit hard at his bottom lip trying to stop himself but he'd coughed something between a snort and a laugh into the crux of his arm trying to pass it off as a sneeze. Hades himself had appeared amuse, the strong lines in his face softening. They'd given him a trial basis. Soon after he'd been granted an employee of the month plaque and a pat on the back from the King himself.

"Never realised I had allergies. Guess it's been so long with Persephone's little… problem… that I assume the sniffles was a bad case of the damp. A thousand years! Can you imagine, Bob?"

So he'd been hired. Officially.

"Ooh— looks good!"

The pale child had grinned at him, waving the skeletal tailor away once it was apparent the blue coveralls of his janitor uniform fit. "And one final touch," he said offering out a name tag with Hi, my name is Bob written in bold black letters against its white background. Bob smiled as he fashioned it to the left pocked of his coveralls and took a final look at himself in the mirror. For good measure, he turned one more time and nodded.

"Yes, this looks good. Thank you," he turned to face the demigod. It was hard not to notice how alike they were. Where Bob was silver, Nico was pale and they stood out against the dark background of the Underworld. The deep colour of their clothing (his brand new and fitting oh-so-nice!) helped them to blend in with the background. Just a little. Just enough. And now that he looked the part that meant he would have to start his actual duties. The official Janitor of the Underworld.

"I've never had a job before."

"Me either, big guy. How about I stick around and help you out? We can get to grips with it together. Maybe make some suggestion on processes and duties. You know, really make it your own."

That grew the smile on the Titan's face. Nico really was a great friend.

"Tell me again."

There are many things they talk about while they round the halls of the palace, cleaning as they god. Bob with his custom made tool belt (also Nico's idea but everything affixed to it had been Bob's doing including the Helios Headlight make flashlight… helped to brighten up the dark halls and really test to make sure he gave the halls that extra sparkle). Nico with a squeegee in one hand and bottle of spray in the other. So many things. The son of Hades had made it his own personal mission to help Bob try as many different things as possible so he could figure out what he liked (Mrs O'Leary, chocolate and anchovy cake, haunted houses) and what he didn't (baths, vegetables, rollercoasters). It didn't do anything to bring his memory back but it made him feel warm inside.

Nico knew without prompting which story Bob was asking to hear. It was one of his favourites. What had the other called it? An origin story? Something about how they were always more interesting. Everyone likes a 'before' because it helps to fill in the blanks if all they know is the 'after' part. Something like that.

"You've heard it a million times."

Bob cannot count that high but he is absolutely positive he has not heard it that many times. Still, his friend's voice isn't protesting. When he does his voice sounds different and his face squishes up— especially above the eyes. At the moment, dark eyes are meeting Bob's silver ones in question. "Not a million," he replies with confidence, even though he struggles to count beyond the number of fingers and toes that he has. Or the total number of fingers and toes.

"Okay, a lot." Nico concedes as he sets down the spray bottle and gives smile to the other. Its small, like all of his smiles, really more one corner than the other, but it softens the strong features of his face. They have been cleaning for a few hours already and Nico perches on the stairs, taking a break whilst Bob continues to sashay across the hallway in front of the staircase. They're nearly finished with this wing. Soon he can move on to the next. After lunch, of course.

"You won't need my help soon. You'll have heard it so many times you'll e able to tell it to me."

Bob doesn't argue. He knows all the details. Still, he loves it. As he speaks, he follows Bob with his eyes but soon they do that thing where they're seeing beyond. Bob knows that look. He has seen it every time the demigod casts his mind back and tells the story. There's a rhythm to his voice that Bob follows even as he sweeps and then follows over the clean floor with a mop. In the dim hallways, Bob hands onto every word. Notices every change in his friend's speech or his face as he talks about his mother. His sister. The hotel. The school in Maine. Finding out that his father was a god, though he didn't know who. Meeting Percy Jackson. The first time he laid eyes on camp. How alienating it was to realise not only did you not really know yourself or where you'd come from. How he'd begun to figure it out. How he was still trying— and they had that sort of thing in common (Bob smiled).

From there it always moved onto heroic antics of his friends from Camp Half Blood. Sometimes there were new details, little side stories peppered in about the time that he'd accidentally shadow travelled to England and wound up in the middle of a brothel — don't worry about what a brothel is, Bob, its' really better you don't know. Gods, I wish I didn't know. Eventually, though, Nico picked back up the squeegee and his spray bottle and followed the other down the hall, dusting and cleaning as he went.

"There are so many extra rooms in the palace," Bob began and even without turning he knew what look the other would have in his eyes. But it does not stop him. No, he is sure this is a good idea. It would be good for Nico! He has spent so long in the Underworld, far longer than a boy his age should. Demigod or not. So he continues. "I could set them up. Friends could come to visit. They could meet the puppies." One of the hellhounds was nearly ready to deliver a litter; Bob couldn't wait. They would be small and cute! And wouldn't eat demigods… maybe just nibble a little. Probably not. But Bob could train them in his free time…

"I wish, big guy," Nico clapped his hand over Bob's where it held the broom. "It's different for them… they're so busy. Not just with godly things, but with mortal things, too. Human things. It's not the same for them as it is for us." There it is. The sadness. It seeps in when he talks about them, no matter how happy the story, and it tugs at Bob's heart. Nico hands over the squeegee and spray bottle. Bob chews at his bottom lip. He opens his mouth to speak but the boy has already muttered something about sparring practice with one of the ghost Lieutenants.

"See you later," but the hall is already empty.

"What?"

Bob doesn't understand. There have been many things he's seen— anger, depression, insignificance— but the agitated to and fro steps of the young demigod has never been one of them. He speaks so quickly, sometimes slipping into a langue that the janitor cannot understand.

"He's gone, Bob! Missing."

Dark eyes are wild as they finally meet his silver ones. Even in the ghostly green fire that lights the halls, he can feel the dark radiating off the half blood in waves. It makes him smell delicious (something he has never told the other but demigods sort of smell like fresh baked cookies… mmm…). Large fingers hook into the utility belt around his waist, fidgeting with each of the attachments ensuring they're all there. If he's to help, he needs to have full supplies.

"Friend Percy? He cannot have gone far."

"That's just it, Bob. I can't feel him. He's not dead… I would know if he was in our kingdom but I can't feel his presence, either. It's like someone's hiding him." There's that look on his face. It's set. Determined. Nico has made his mind up about it. "No one has heard from him. Annabeth. His mom. It's like he's vanished into thin air. Demigod don't just go missing, Bob."

He helpfully points out that there are many times that Nico goes missing.

This earns him a very harsh look.

"It's not the same. You know where I am. I'm here." And he waves to the Underworld. That is a fair point and Bob nods.

But what can he do? If Nico cannot feel the demigod, Bob is not sure how he can help and his heart sinks at the realisation. Percy is a great hero! The first thing he remembers is coming out of the river and finding Percy with Annabeth and Nico and knowing they were friends. Then there are all the great stories that Nico tells. And the way the demigod lets him know that Percy asks after him. That he could visit if he could. He is a great hero and an even better friend. Especially to Nico. Even if the son of Poseidon could not visit. Splinters fall to the floor and he looks down only realising too late that he'd taken to chewing the handle of his broom and it had snapped like a toothpick leaving him to mumble that he'd clean it up and then they would figure out exactly what they should do next.

Unrest was growing in the Underworld. The doors were open. Thanatos had gone missing for a time and though he was back, now, he paced and groaned as much as the ghosts. Things didn't stay put like they were meant to. Things died but they didn't always cross the River. They didn't always pay the ferry man. And the dead in the fields were restless.

Things were supposed to stay dead.

Things that weren't Titans or monsters, anyway.

It made the silver hairs at the back of Bob's neck stand on end. He didn't like it. Not one bit. Ghosties were meant to stay where they were. It was how things worked. How they had always worked. A watchful eye was cast across the river, watching as the boat of newly departed souls made their way into the Underworld. Bob was alone on his break but wasn't scared when the young demigod popped out of nowhere. He did that sometimes. It had stopped startling him long ago.

"She's gone."

Bob didn't have to ask to know what he meant.

Bianca.

"She… she decided to go for rebirth. I should have known she'd want to try again." There's disappointment in his tone and his eyebrows are furrowed as he stares out across the water. With his blade attached to his belt and arms folded across his chest, Bob thinks he looks like he has grown. For a small human, anyway. They do not get very big. And for a human, the son of Hades has always been especially small. But he is longer now, not necessarily bigger, than when he last saw him.

There's a moment of silence that stretches between them. It is not the type of sadness that words can fix. Maybe it is a good thing. Bob has seen Hades upset. Seen the way skeletons crumble to dust or felt the way the earth shakes, seen the way what little light might be leeched out of even the least expecting. And the arguments! Lady Hades and her husband could argue. It sent a shiver down his spine. Nope. Bob did not want to think about that. Hades might have been upset with Nico if the boy had succeeded.

"There was someone else."

A silver brow raises.

"Someone else?"

A sister. Not Greek, like him, but Roman. And what a different world it was to learn about this dual nature. A second camp. A different place that maybe, just maybe, the young half blood might be welcome. She was there now, Hazel, with eyes dark just like his. A girl out of time, just like him, too. With gifts that were different than his own— he wasn't entirely sure how, yet, just that she didn't feel the same— the younger boy is babbling that he'd have to see if they had Mythomagic cards with a Roman expansion. Bob doesn't know what that is but apparently they would be a great help. There was already such affection in the way he spoke about the ghost-now-girl; Nico would be checking on her soon.

For the first time since Percy Jackson had gone missing, the boy seemed at least a little hopeful. There was something other than sadness in the way he carried himself and as he spoke, he did so with the whole of his body. Whether he realised it or not, he could hardly contain himself.

Bob practically fell into the river, waving his meaty hands to balance himself. Nico grabbed at him, though it was more likely the demigod would have fallen in head first alongside the Titan than prevent him from falling. But it was a shock to the system— the son of Hades hadn't even reached the very best part of his tale. Percy was alive! And well! Maybe a little worse for wear and definitely a bit shaken up— he could probably use a haircut what with the way his dark hair was curly and unkempt as ever but the Romans would sort him out. That's right, he was at this camp on the other side of America along with Hazel. For a moment Nico had practically run up and thrown his arms around him in relief but their friend didn't remember anything before a few days ago. Not Bob. Not Nico. Not Annabeth. No his father, his mother, or that he'd helped to save the world.

"We have to help him remember."

Things only got more complicated from there but this time, Bob managed to keep from nearly falling in the river.

AN: And there we have it! Another chapter down. What do you think? I wanted to try a new perspective and previously someone had asked if we might be able to get a little peak inside the helpful Titan himself. Expect to see another chapter or two from his point of view coming up. We'll also be returning, shortly, to our heroes outside of Tartarus to see what they've gotten themselves into and how their journey is going. Expect further twists, turns, injuries, upset, and all sorts coming your way! And always, please leave me your thoughts. Like it? Want to see something else? Have questions? They're all welcome and really help me continue to develop the plot.

On a totally different note, you'll be happy (or anxiously biting at your nails) to know that I've begun to plot out the end of the story into the sequel. Mwahaha.