So I just found out that this (incomplete) story is actually longer than HP and the Sorceror's Stone... It's official. I am far too dedicated to a piece of writing that has no possible way of being published, ever. Luckily for you guys, I don't plan on reforming my foolish ways, so you'll keep getting chapters until this massive fanfiction-novel is finished. :P

Shout out to Costana, who practically wrote me a book herself in the amazing review she left me last chapter, and thank you to all of you lovely people who are taking the time to read/follow/favorite/review this ridiculously long story!

Oh, and to anyone wondering why Drew is comparatively nice in this fic, I have a headcanon that after Piper became head counselor, Drew was reformed... I don't know if there's a valid reason I feel this way, other than I never really viewed her as an "evil" character, but there you go. Reasonably friendly, helpful Drew is a thing in this story.

That's all! Enjoy the chapter!

Disclaimer: I wish I owned PJO/HOO so I could actually possibly do something with this fic, but unfortunately, that's not going to happen.

Part XVI

As soon as they got inside the airport, Drew went to the bathroom with her backpack. When she came out, her hair was twisted up onto her head, and she had changed into a blouse, blazer, and slacks, although she'd left her stilettos on to lend her some height. She looked like a twenty-five-year-old businesswoman, even though Reyna knew she was barely eighteen.

Reyna raised her eyebrows. "What's with the costume change?"

Drew shrugged. Although her expression seemed confident, Reyna was pretty sure she detected a hint of anxiety. "I'm doing something pretty crazy by charmspeaking the airport people into giving us a plane," Drew said. "I figured having an appropriate appearance for the person I'm about to pretend to be couldn't hurt."

"Then why not wear those clothes all day?" Nyssa asked reasonably.

Drew scrunched her nose. "Slacks?" She said the word like a curse. "I don't think so."

Reyna withheld a snort. "Let's go," she said instead. "Unless we need to wear blazers too?"

Nyssa looked horrified at the thought, but Drew just flashed a smile. Reyna was glad to see a little of her nervousness fade. "I think you'll be okay," she said. "Nyssa's tall enough"—the daughter of Hephaestus was at least five foot ten, maybe even as tall as six feet, by Reyna's guess—"that it's not much of a stretch to pretend she's in her twenties, especially with the scowl she's wearing right now."

"I'm not scowling!" Nyssa protested, scowling.

Drew just laughed. "Don't stop, Steel," she said. "That face is perfect for the role you're about to play. As for you, Reyna . . . You'll be fine. No one would dare question you."

Reyna frowned. "Is that a compliment?"

"Take it any way you like," Drew responded, grinning. "Now let's get started."

They went to the arrivals board first, to look for flights arriving from Greece. When they found one, Drew wrote something down on a piece of paper she pulled out of her blazer, folded it up, put it back, and marched off to the airline ticket counter without warning. Reyna had to scramble to catch up, even though Drew was wearing heels.

When she got to the line, the daughter of Aphrodite didn't bother waiting. She strode right up to the woman in charge, pulling out her paper as she went. Once she reached her, Drew threw the page down on her desk, ignoring the shock on her face. Reyna and Nyssa flanked her as Drew started to talk.

"I need to speak to the highest ranking executive of this flight company who is on the premises," she announced.

The woman looked confused, glancing at the dozens of people waiting behind them. "I'm sorry, but you have to wait in line like everyone else—"

"Let me rephrase," Drew said, pouring on the charmspeak. "Get me your boss. Right now."

Drew was reeling the woman in, but she wasn't completely convinced yet. "My supervisor is currently unavailable, but I can help you with whatever you might need—"

"This is a matter of national security," Drew interrupted again, shoving all her power into each word. "You will get us your supervisor immediately."

The woman had to be in her forties, but she squeaked out a "Yes, ma'am" and scuttled off.

Reyna had to hold back a grin. She wondered if any Venus girls in the legion could charmspeak; it'd be a great skill for them to have. They could put it to good use against Octavian during Senate meetings.

"I need flight 3289," Drew proclaimed as soon as the ticket lady had ushered them into her manager's office. He was a weedy, middle-aged, balding man with a strong New York accent and a high sense of his self-importance. This was going to be entertaining.

The man frowned. "You need three tickets for that flight?" he said uncertainly. "It's kinda last minute, but I guess I could—"

"No," Drew said, cutting him off abruptly. "I need the whole plane." Reyna could almosr feel the persuasiveness oozing from Drew's voice.

The man wasn't convinced, though. "You crazy?" he demanded. "There are almost four hundred people who have purchased tickets for that particular flight! You can't just waltz in here and—"

"Did you read the paper I handed you?" Drew shot back. She'd snatched it up from the check-in desk before hurrying in to talk to this guy. "I can actually waltz in here and do whatever I have to. The United States Government is commandeering the plane in the name of national security. If you try to stand in our way, you will be endangering the country and obstructing justice. You could be thrown in jail. Do you want that?"

Drew's charmspeak was so strong, even Reyna almost believed her. The guy hesitated. "This paper says you're CIA," he said. "I want to see your badge."

"My badge?" Drew repeated, acting offended. She spoke quietly, to maintain the air of secrecy, but intensely, to show she meant business. Reyna had to admit that she was pretty impressed. "I just handed you a paper signed by the president, and you want a badge?" She leaned in close, invading the man's personal space. With her heels, Drew practically towered over him. "Look, Clark," she began, then paused. "Don't look so surprised that I know your name." Reyna figured Clark didn't remember that he was wearing a nametag. She couldn't really blame him. Drew was being as intimidating as any of Gaea's giants right now.

"Look, Clark," Drew said again, pouring powerful charmspeak into every word. "If you must know, we were undercover earlier. That's why Agents Forge and Standard are dressed so casually . . . Well, that, and Agent Forge always dresses this way. It allows her to jump into action at a moment's notice."

"Action?" Clark asked, frowning.

"Yes, action!" Reyna got the feeling Drew's exasperation wasn't an act. "We're CIA, Clark. You think we chug coffee and chew donuts like rookie traffic cops? Be rational. We're talking about national security here."

"Speaking of rookies," Clark said, the corners of his mouth still turned down, "aren't you all a little young to be in the CIA?"

Drew almost froze, but Reyna stepped forward and offered him her most intimidating glare. That made him bite back his next comment, but Nyssa's scowl was the reason he swallowed nervously. "We're perfectly capable agents, if that's what you're wondering," Nyssa said curtly, crossing her arms and leaning over him even more than Drew had. "Langley starts training early, especially for those who are particularly . . . talented. You want to see what my specialty is, Clark?"

Clark gulped a second time and shook his head. "Good," Nyssa snapped. "Agent Dove?"

Drew stepped forward again, looking even fiercer than before. "As I was saying, Clark," she said, uttering his name like an insult, "we need you to cancel the boarding of flight 3289. Tell passengers problems were detected with the plane, and for their safety, it has been pulled for maintenance. They will be placed on the next available flight, and their cooperation is appreciated."

"But—"

"We're stopping bad guys here, Clark," Drew said, sounding more persuasive than ever. "Lives are at stake." That part, at least, was true, Reyna thought. She definitely considered Gaea a bad guy—or, well, a villain anyway. "Do you really want to get in the way of the United States Government? Do you really want to help our targets escape?"

"No," Clark mumbled.

"Then I've wasted enough time already, in a very time-sensitive operation! In the name of all this country stands for, get me flight 3289 right now!"

At those last words, Drew's charmspeak was so strong that Clark's eyes actually glazed over, and he lifted up the phone on his desk. "Hello?" he said. "Air traffic control? This is George Clark. You need to cancel flight 3289. Yes, 3289. Why? Problems were detected with the plane, and for the passengers' safety, it's being pulled for maintenance."

Reyna's eyes glittered, and she saw similar expressions of triumph on the others' faces, especially Drew's.

They'd just officially hijacked a plane.

"'Agents Forge and Standard'?" Nyssa teased as they went to tell the other demigods the good news. "As in Hephaestus's forge, and the Roman eagle standard? Creative, Drew."

"'Agent Dove'?" Drew shot back. "You called me Agent Dove, and you're questioning my creativity?"

Reyna snorted. "You know," she said, interrupting their argument and changing the subject, "I'm pretty sure impersonating a federal agent is a felony."

"That's what you're worried about?" Drew asked incredulously. "You know I forged the president's signature, right? Plus, in case you've forgotten, we're kind of stealing a plane."

"Illegally borrowing," Nyssa said dismissively. "It's not the same thing."

"Besides," Reyna interjected, shooting a pointed look at Nyssa, "it's not like we had an alternative. And Drew, you used charmspeak on Clark and air traffic control so that they'll forget about us as soon as we're in the air. That way, when we bring the plane back in 10-ish days, they'll just think it was in the maintenance garage the whole time. Everything will be fine." They'd decided on that, rather than having the airport think the flight never left Greece when they landed the plane there, so that the passengers who had ridden the plane to JFK in the first place wouldn't poke holes in the story. It'd be pretty hard to pretend that the flight never left if its four hundred passengers were all magically transported to New York somehow.

Reyna didn't mention what else she was thinking. The only flaw in their story was that if something happened to them in Athens, making them unable to return the plane, then when Clark eventually got curious and went to the maintenance garage, he wouldn't find it . . . But if that happened, it wouldn't matter anyway. Western civilization would be too busy being destroyed to wonder about something as trivial as a missing plane.

Before Reyna could try to think of a new topic of conversation, they reached the others. Malcolm was examining their expressions. "Well?" he asked anxiously. "Did it work?"

They kept their poker faces for about ten seconds, enjoying his nervousness, and then Drew laughed. "Thanks for your overwhelming confidence in me, kid," she smirked. Malcolm had enough knowledge of diplomacy to look embarrassed.

"Plane's gate is B37, in Terminal 4," Reyna cut in. "We'd better get going. That's several terminals away from where we are."

"That's right," Nyssa said, grinning. "We wouldn't want your private flight, which is piloted by someone who is currently standing right next to you, to leave you behind."

Reyna raised her eyebrows. "I'm not worried about that," she said primly. "However, I'd kind of like to get to the Argo II sometime in July. If it's not too much to ask."

"Oh. Right."

George Clark met them at the entrance to the concourse, wringing his hands and practically falling over himself to make up for his earlier rudeness.

"I assure you," he said quickly, "that our pilot is very trustworthy. I am certain you will be pleased wih his service an—"

"That won't be necessary," Drew said crisply. "Agent Forge will be our pilot."

"Oh." Clark looked thrown off-guard. " Are you quite sure? This is a big plane, and it is a slightly older model, and . . ."

Nyssa glared at him before Drew had a chance to use her charmspeak. "Clark," she growled, "I can handle the plane. I have more than one specialty, you know—and as you agreed earlier, you do not want to see any of my others. So are we good here?"

He swallowed air and nodded. "In that case," he said, his voice coming out in a nervous squeak, "would you like me to help you board, or talk to air traffic control, or—?"

"We can take it from here, Clark," Drew said, pointedly and persuasively. "You can go back to your office now."

He blinked. "I . . . think I'll go back to my office now," he said dazedly. "Have a pleasant flight." He wandered off.

Nyssa, watching him leave, said, "Poor guy. I feel like we never let him finish a sentence."

"It's his own fault," Drew said in disgust. "His sentences were all annoying as Styx."

"Still," Nyssa said, "it's too bad we had to get rid of him. I mean, I know we agreed not to tell him about the four hundred children and teenagers who are going to be passengers on his supposedly-commandeered-by-the-CIA airplane because it'd be too complicated to explain away. But you have to admit, he was semi-useful . . . while he was brainwashed. Besides, he was fun to interrupt, and it was hilarious to watch you charmspeak him. Reyna, you sure we can't bring him along for entertainment?"

Reyna didn't even bother to respond. Instead, she waved over the other demigods and legacies, who were milling around trying to look like they were going on a massive international school trip. "Let's board!" she called. "Drew still has to charmspeak air traffic control into letting us fly an unauthorized plane with an unauthorized pilot, and then we have a nine-hour-long flight ahead of us, and then we have a giant warship to rebuild." She turned in Nyssa's direction and added loudly, "We don't have time to abuse the minds of innocent airport employees for entertainment."

There were a few snickers (mostly coming from the Greek Hermes cabin, Reyna noticed) and then Drew stage-whispered, "I wouldn't call George Clark innocent. He's horrible with customers. That was the worst service I've ever experienced. I had to do everything myself!" That got more laughs.

Reyna only shook her head and glared at them. "Just get in the plane."

They got in the plane.

Eventually, all three hundred and seventy eight demigods had boarded flight 3289. Even though they didn't have a real crew, a fifteen-year-old legacy of Mercury stood up and explained how to stow their backpacks and weapons safely in the overhead compartments, then went down the aisles making sure everyone had done it correctly. Then she went back to the front of the plane and went over emergency procedures (complete with proper attendant hand motions and everything) before doing one last sweep of the airplane, chewing out the people who tried to avoid fastening their seat belts. By the time she was finished, each of the danger-prone, risk-taking teenagers on the plane was following every safety rule to the letter. Reyna was just grateful that she'd been lucky enough to find a Fifth Cohort-er whose dream was to travel the world as a flight attendant. (She supposed it shouldn't have been that surprising, considering Randi's grandfather was Mercury, god of travelers.) Oh, and she was also glad cell phones were still dangerous to demigods. If Randi had had to force three hundred and seventy eight teenagers to turn off their smartphones as well, flight 3289 never would have gotten off the ground.

Even now, it still might not. Everyone was settled for takeoff, but the plane wasn't taxiing. The engines weren't even starting. Slightly concerned, Reyna went into the cockpit, where Drew and Nyssa were sitting. She found Drew holding the radio with one hand and staring concernedly at Nyssa, who was staring blankly out the window at the asphalt in front of her, whispering "I can't do this" over and over.

Frowning, Reyna walked over and put a hand on Nyssa's shoulders. The older girl flinched, but didn't move her eyes. She looked drained and paler than normal. For all her bravado and jokes, Reyna suddenly realized that Nyssa was terrified of messing up and putting all the demigods in danger. After all, she wasn't an actual pilot yet. "Yes, you can do this," Reyna said firmly. "You said yourself that you had the skills to fly a plane. This was your idea, Nyssa."

"I know," she replied quietly, "but now that I'm actually sitting here . . ." With visible effort, Nyssa wrenched her eyes away from the asphalt and looked at Reyna. "Pilots are supposed to have copilots, Reyna," she said. "People to watch out and make sure the pilot doesn't fall asleep or miscalculate or screw up in some other way. Without anyone to fall back on, nothing's stopping me from making an error that sends almost all the claimed demigods in the world crashing into the Atlantic. How can I be responsible for the lives of this many of us?"

Instinctively, Reyna knew that being gentle and considerate wasn't going to boost Nyssa's confidence. Instead, she made her tone as harsh as possible. "Don't act like you're so special, Nyssa Steel," she announced. "I shoulder that responsibility every minute of every day. In case you've forgotten, I was the Twelfth Legion's only praetor for months, and its two others aren't exactly helping out right now either. And believe me, I've made a Styx-load of mistakes. I almost killed everyone by leading the legion to New York to seek revenge for something Leo didn't even do. I almost killed everyone again by letting myself get captured by Gaea. It nearly happened a third time when I barely escaped Tartarus in time. And let's not forget that I helped you come up with this plan. I approved you piloting the plane. If you screw up, it'll be my fault as much as yours."

Drew looked shocked at her bluntness, but Reyna could see a little color returning to Nyssa's face. "And how is this supposed to make me feel better, exactly?"

"The point is," Reyna said, "that you can't be afraid to take risks because you think you might fail. Otherwise Gaea will already have beaten us."

She grinned suddenly. "Come on, Steel. You're going to be a full-fledged pilot someday soon, and then you're going to be responsible for a lot of regular old mortals. At least right now you're in charge of a plane of survivors. If we crash—and I highly doubt we will—everyone can use Randi's helpful emergency information to 'use their seat cushions as flotation devices and locate the exits by following the lighted pathways on the floor'." While sending a silent apology to the legacy of Mercury, Reyna used her most uppity flight attendant voice as she spoke, sparking a smile from Nyssa. "Everyone will be fine, no matter what happens. Consider this trip . . . practice for your pilot exam."

"There's a hell of a lot riding on this for it to be just a practice flight," Nyssa muttered, but Reyna saw her sit up a little straighter and actually focus on the controls in front of her. Progress.

"Oh, you'll be fine," she said dismissively. "Besides . . ." She grinned again. "I may not have the knowledge to keep you from making a miscalculation, but if you really want a copilot so badly, I can always sit in that chair and keep you from falling asleep or 'screwing up in some other way'."

"Now that's true friendship," Drew remarked dryly. But Reyna could see relief and gratitude in her eyes. The daughter of Aphrodite obviously hadn't had much success before Reyna had come in.

"Well . . ." Nyssa looked uncertain. "I mean, I guess once we're twenty thousand feet into the air, I can always put the plane on autopilot."

"There's autopilot?" Drew gaped. "What were you even worried about, then? You could just have the computer do all the work for you."

Nyssa frowned. "Autopilot can't taxi, take off, make course adjustments, or land," she began, but Drew obviously wasn't listening.

"So can I call air traffic control now, or what?"

Nyssa shrugged. "Oh, why the hell not," she said finally. "It's not like the fate of the world is resting on my piloting skills right now, or anything." She turned to Reyna. "Were you serious? I mean . . . Would you really ride in the cockpit with me?"

Reyna flashed a smile. "Are you kidding? Sit in the front of a massive plane piloted by an eighteen-year-old girl who happens to be related to the craziest guy I know, while she flies the thing across the ocean? I wouldn't miss it."

Two hours after they lifted into the air (as Drew had said smugly more than once, "air traffic control was a breeze to charmspeak", and despite Nyssa's fears, she'd piloted the plane through takeoff perfectly), Nyssa had to flick a switch that brought her watch to eye level. A moment later, Reyna heard her swear loudly.

"What?" Reyna asked worriedly. "Is something wrong with the plane?"

"Oh, gods, of course not," Nyssa said. "Don't say something like that, Reyna!"

"Don't swear without a reason, then!"

"Sorry," Nyssa said, not sounding all that apologetic. "I was just surprised to see that it's midnight, New York time. I hadn't realized it took us four hours to get off the ground."

"Four hours, huh?" Reyna said, repressing a yawn at the thought. "Well, it's not that shocking. As Drew said, George Clark had terrible customer service skills."

Nyssa grinned at that, turning to Reyna to reply, and ended up frowning instead. "Reyna, you look exhausted."

"What?" Reyna protested, even as she stifled another yawn. "Me? Exhausted? Not a chance. Midnight is early by praetor standards. Do you have any idea how much paperwork I went through every night?"

"I'm sure you were very busy all the time," Nyssa said, rolling her eyes, "but just because you're used to staying up late doesn't mean you should."

"Of course I should!" Reyna countered. "You told me it was my job to make sure you didn't fall asleep."

"Not anymore," Nyssa responded. "I turned on autopilot ten minutes ago. If I fell asleep now, it wouldn't matter. Besides, I have an alarm set to make sure I'll wake up in plenty of time to get the plane landed again. You have nothing to worry about."

"But—"

"Reyna," Nyssa said firmly, "you had a Styx-y night yesterday—don't pretend you got more than a few hours of sleep. In case you forgot, I was up most of the night with you."

"Which means that, according to your argument, you should be exhausted too. You're not. Therefore, I'm fine."

"I took several power naps throughout the day," Nyssa said. "Whereas you have been avoiding sleep like it was Thanatos himself."

Reyna shrugged. "There was too much to do. I had two camps to mobilize in just a few hours, in case you've forgotten."

"Blah blah blah, duty, service, praetorliness, responsibility, whatever," Nyssa said. "Sure, that was all important today. But you don't have to worry about it now. Come on, Praetor. You can't work yourself to death. Then where would your legion be?"

"It's not my legion," Reyna said automatically. "And it would still have Percy and Jason—Oh. I see your point."

Nyssa cracked a smile. It occurred to Reyna that she was bickering with the daughter of Hephaestus the same way she did with Hylla. Nyssa was like a slightly annoying older sister. "You know," Reyna reflected, "you're pretty good at coming up with arguments that force people to take breaks when they don't want to."

"Sure I am," Nyssa said. "I had plenty of experience when Leo was working on the Argo II . . ." She trailed off, and Reyna felt like an idiot. Of course Nyssa acted like a slightly annoying older sister. She was one—to Leo.

Oh, gods. Just thinking his name brought waves of guilt crashing down on her, as undeserved as she knew it was. It was just so stupid that he was stuck in Tartarus, and she was safe on the surface . . .

"Reyna." Nyssa's voice snapped Reyna back to the present. "Reyna, worrying about Leo isn't going to do you any good. You need to get some actual sleep."

"How did you know I was—?"

"You're always worrying about Leo," Nyssa said.

"And you're not?" Reyna argued.

Nyssa sighed. "Look, Reyna. There's nothing you can do while twenty five thousand feet in the air. Just go to sleep."

Reyna was silent for a moment as she tried to think up a good response—and she must have been more tired than she realized, because that moment was just long enough for her to fall asleep.

The first thing she saw was Leo. Of course it was. Why had Nyssa thought that falling asleep would stop Reyna's worrying?

Leo was in horrible shape—no surprise there, he was in Tartarus—but it wasn't just that Reyna could see that his bandages were sticking to his back, stained with fresher blood than she remembered, that his curls were stiff with blood and filth, that his wrists were rubbed raw from the handcuffs, or that his face was barely recognizable under its layer of dirt. No, the real thing that had Reyna worried was the way Leo was shivering and staring wildly at the ground. Acting feverish and half-crazed wouldn't benefit anyone in this case, not like it had when the empousae had taken them to the hot spring what felt like several eons ago. No, Leo's behavior had to be real. Oh, gods . . .

Reyna took a few steps forward, her heart sinking further with each one. Leo's eyes had always gleamed brightly—whether mischievous, amused, clever, caring, or stubborn—but now they were so intense, they didn't quite seem sane. She wanted to reach out, to pull him into a hug, to promise him that they were going to get him out—

And then Gaea showed up.

I don't understand you, Leo Valdez, she said bluntly. There's no reason for you to be in so much pain. All I'm asking for is a few hypotheses, you understand. Even if you don't know what your friends are up to, or what their fatal flaws are, you can at least guess. And I know you're good at improvisation, godspawn. I'm sure you're just as skilled at guessing.

Leo looked up at the earth goddess, and Reyna staggered in shock. It was so hard to see him barely holding onto reality—to sanity—as he spoke. "See, but that's the whole problem," he was saying. "What if I guess correctly? Besides, I'm not an idiot, Dirt Face. I know that 'a few hypotheses' would only be the beginning, and then you'd force me to do worse and worse Styx. I'm not agreeing to that."

"You are an idiot," a dracaena hissed, "to refusssssse my mistresssssssss."

She is correct, godspawn, Gaea said. Reyna hated the amusement she could hear in the goddess's voice. We've already put you through so much psychological torture, I suppose I should try something else. Luckily, a few of my Cyclopes have been anxious to try the physical kind out on you.

A massive Cyclops woman—Reyna could tell she was female because her hair was longer than the males'—lumbered in, wearing some sort of chain mail dress.

Leo's eyes widened. "You . . . Ma Gasket?"

The Cyclops cracked her knuckles. "I still haven't forgiven you for busting my boys, son of Hephaestus," she growled. "Gaea has graciously allowed me to get some repayment for the trouble you caused me."

"Oh yeah?" Leo said weakly. "I don't suppose you mean community service—"

Her fist slammed into his ribs.

It was followed by a quick succession of blows to his face, torso, and back. Reyna saw him flinch every time Ma Gasket hit his back. Oh gods, would this boy never get a chance to heal?

After a few minutes of this, the Cyclops stepped back. Leo spit blood off to the side. To Reyna's surprise, the pain had seemed to wake him up rather than knock him out. His eyes looked more sane—more Leo—than Reyna had seen them during the whole dream. "Thanks, Ma Gassy," he muttered through the blood in his mouth. "I needed a massage."

Ma Gasket shrieked and lashed out at him again. By the time she finished, he was sprawled out on the ground, coughing up far more blood than Reyna deemed healthy, but the idiot still wouldn't have the sense to stay quiet. "You know," he said almost conversationally, "I can see why so many monsters want to eat me." He spat out more blood, then said, "I taste delicious."

During the third round of blows, Reyna heard something that sounded suspiciously like a rib cracking. Leo was gasping for breath, the blood in his mouth vying for space with his intake of necessary oxygen. "Had enough yet, godspawn?" Ma Gasket rumbled.

"Not really," he answered cheekily. "By all means, keep going. Once you use up all your frustration by attacking a physical target, we can progress to the next stage of your anger management therapy."

It was clear that Ma Gasket didn't completely understand what Leo meant, but she knew it wasn't complimentary. "I . . ." she fumed. "I'm going to bust you open, son of Hephaestus! I'm going to bust you worse than you busted my boys! I'm going to—"

"Sssssstop," the dracaena interrupted. "You know Gaea'sssssss ordersssssss. You have to sssssssstop after three attacksssssss."

"Why?" Ma Gasket demanded. "Why can't I just pound that skinny demigod into the ground until he's dea—"

"The mistresssssss needsssssss him alive for Augusssst firssssst," she hissed. "You know thissssssss. Besssidessssssss, torture isssn't as effective if you only do it onccce. Come back in a few hourssssss and do it again. He won't fffffeel as fffffunny the ssssssssecond time." Reluctantly, Ma Gasket allowed herself to be led away.

As soon as they were gone, Reyna rushed forward. She figured Leo couldn't hear her, but that didn't stop her from trying to wipe some of the blood off his face. "You're a wreck, Valdez," she muttered. "An absolute wreck. What were you thinking, goading that Cyclops on like that? Didn't you know she'd just get madder and—?"

"Reyna?"

Hearing Leo say her name was like a slap to the face. Reyna fell silent in shock. Was it just a coincidence?

Leo frowned, looking around as best he could with several broken bones. "Reyna?" he repeated. "I thought you were safe on the surface—I saw you safe—What happened? How did you end up . . ." He slumped backwards, a look of defeat settling over his face. "Or am I just imagining things again?"

So he had heard her. "You're not imagining things," Reyna said hurriedly. "I'm here in a dream."

The worry in his face started to slip away. "Oh, good," he said. "Like Nico was with Crusty's water bed." Reyna decided not to ask what he meant. "So you're not down here or anything?"

"No, of course not," Reyna said soothingly. "In fact, Nyssa and I are—"

"Don't tell me anything!" he shouted.

"What? But don't you want to know—"

"Look, Reyna," he said, eyes pleading with a spot about five inches to the right of her face. Reyna scooted over so she matched his line of eyesight. "I'm holding out for now, but I don't know how much longer . . ." He swallowed nervously. "Just in case . . . I don't want to know anything important. If Gaea found out . . ." He shut his eyes and shook his head. Only then did Reyna realize his nose was bleeding too. Was it broken? "You can't trust me not to let something slip," he whispered. "I can't ruin all of the plans you guys have."

Tears in her eyes, Reyna reached out and brushed his face, sure Leo wouldn't be able to feel it. "But I do trust you, Leo," she said softly.

His eyebrows shot upward. "You trust me?" he asked. "But you don't trust anyone . . ." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Reyna, you can't—"

"All right," Reyna sighed. "I won't tell you our plans . . . but I can't leave you completely in the dark. Just know . . . Leo, we are going to rescue you. We're not going to let Gaea kill you. It won't be today, or tomorrow, or the next day, but you'll get out of here. You'll be okay. I'll make sure of it."

Leo smiled. Despite his bloody mouth, it was beautiful to see. "That's a hell of a promise to make, reina," he said. "You can't be sure that—"

"I'm sure," Reyna said fiercely. "You're getting out of here, Leo Valdez."

His eyes gleamed—not with insanity, but with something Reyna couldn't believe he was still hanging onto down here. Hope. "Good to know, mi reina."

"Speaking of things you should know," Reyna said, glaring at him even though she knew he couldn't see, "you were a complete idiot to egg on that Cyclops the way you did. Are you trying to get yourself killed? That dracaena was just barely able to stop her. What if she can't the next time? What if—?" Her voice hitched.

Leo's eyes widened. "Reina, are you crying?"

Reyna took a deep breath and wiped away her tears. "Of course not," she said imperiously. "I'm just giving you advice. I mean . . ." Her voice softened. "Come on, Leo. Rescuing you isn't going to do you any good if some monster kills you first."

To her surprise, Leo winced. "I know that," he said. "It's just . . ."

"What?"

"I have to keep up the insults, Rey," he explained. "I have to keep cracking jokes and annoying all these monsters as much as possible."

"Why?"

"Don't you see?" he said, practically begging for her to understand. "Do you know how hard it is to hold onto yourself down here? Do you know how hard it is to remember who you are when you're trapped in a place where the only light serves to illuminate your worst fears come to life, and there are voices everywhere telling you to give up, and you know that the more you resist, the more torture Gaea will put you through, and you're already a physical and mental wreck?"

Reyna exhaled, her eyes filling with tears again. "Leo . . ."

"I'm not asking for pity, reina," he said firmly. "I just . . . Do you get it now? I have to hold onto myself somehow. Humor's about all I have left."

Reyna shook her head. "I understand," she said," it's just . . . Dios mio, Valdez. This isn't fair."

"Dios mio?" Leo asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Did you just curse in Spanish, mi reina?"

"Claro que sí, mi chico de fuego," Reyna grinned. Of course, my fire boy.

Leo whistled softly. "Dios mio," he said again, "que es caliente."

Reyna's heart thumped once, hard. Had he really just said that? My gods, that's hot? No. She must have misheard. After all, she hadn't used Spanish in ages.

She opened her mouth to ask him, but then the dracaena from earlier returned and started unlocking Leo's chains.

Leo frowned. "What are you doing? I thought you said I was safe for a few hours—"

"Oh, I'm not taking you to that Ccccyclopssss," the dracaena grinned. "But jusssssst because she issssn't going to torture you doesssssssn't mean you're going to jussst sssssssit around. Let'sssssss go back to the Mansion of Night, shhhhall we?"

Leo started shaking. "N-n-no," he stammered. "You said . . . and the empousae said . . . I thought . . ."

"You thought you were done with that placccccce?" she smirked. "Of courssssssse not, godssssspawn. You've just barely made itssss acquaintancccccccce."

Leo's breathing started to increase rapidly, which Reyna figured couldn't be good with a broken rib. She wanted to call out to him, to reassure him in some way, but she didn't want to know what the dracaena would do if she found out that Leo was communicating with Reyna somehow. So she clamped her mouth shut and watched tearfully as Leo gasped for air. "You c-c-can't . . ." he said. "You can't make me . . ."

"But I can, godsssssspawn," she said gleefully. A different Cyclops—not Ma Gasket—came out of the shadows and flung Leo over his shoulder without any regard for his injuries. Leo cried out as his broken ribs swung into the Cyclops's torso.

Oh, gods. Reyna couldn't just let him leave like this. Hoping the Cyclops wouldn't notice, she clambered up his leather armor and sat on his shoulder, right next to Leo. "Leo," she whispered, "you'll be fine, but you've got to stay strong, okay? Don't let the monsters get to you."

Leo managed to lift his head. Already, Reyna could see the light in his eyes cracking. "You d-don't understand," he muttered. "You d-don't kn-n-now what it's like . . ."

"I don't," Reyna agreed, pushing back tears. "But it doesn't matter. You can do this. You can hold onto yourself. You can keep that sense of humor, and everything else that makes you Leo Valdez too. I know you can do it. I told you—I trust you."

"You m-might trust me," he said, struggling to form the words, "but . . . but I can't trust myself. I barely know who L-leo Valdez is anymore."

"I do," Reyna said firmly. "I know who you are. You're Leo Valdez, the clever, strong, funny, ridiculous, caring, stubborn, idiotic, wonderful mechanic who didn't mean to fire on New Rome. You're the world's most important and danger-prone Repair Boy. And . . ." She hesitated, but not for long. Leo needed to hear everything she could offer him, if he was going to stay sane for seven more days. "Tu eres mi chico de fuego." She emphasized the "mi" as strongly as she could. Then she leaned forward and kissed Leo's cheek. She told herself it didn't matter. Leo couldn't feel it. The surprise in his eyes when she did it was just a coincidence. "Remember that, Valdez," she said, "and you won't lose yourself."

"Reyna . . ." Leo started to speak, but then the Cyclops stumbled, and Leo was jostled and cried out in pain, and Reyna went flying off the Cyclops's shoulder, landing sprawled on the ground, and before she could scramble to her feet, they were all gone.

"Leo!" she cried out, accidentally slipping into her Spanish accent. "Leo! Dios mio. Leo—"

"Reyna! Wake up!"

Reyna opened her eyes and frowned. Why was she laying on the ground, staring up at the bottom of an airplane control panel?

Nyssa crouched down and looked at her quizzically. "What happened?" she asked. "You were sleeping okay for a while, but then . . . Well, when you fell out of your chair and started yelling things in Spanish, I figured I should get you up."

Reyna brought a hand to her face to rub her tired eyes. It came away streaked with saltwater. "Dios mio," she muttered for the thousandth time. Nyssa had probably seen her crying.

Fortunately, Leo's older sister gave her some space as Reyna rolled out from under the controls and took her seat again. She wiped away her tears furiously. "Before you ask," she said eventually, "yes, I had another dream about Leo."

Nyssa sighed and put her head in her hands. Reyna figured autopilot was still on, or Nyssa wouldn't be paying so little attention to where the plane was going. "Gods," she said softly. "Was it awful?"

Reyna didn't want to look at Nyssa's pain. It mirrored her own too closely. So she turned away and said to the cockpit wall, "Yes. Yes, it was awful. But that shouldn't be a surprise. He is in Tartarus, after all." She hated her voice for cracking on "Tartarus".

"Oh, Reyna, I'm sorry for asking," Nyssa said. "I know it must be horrible to have to watch him—"

"Don't apologize," Reyna said sharply. "At least this way we know he's alive and . . ." Her voice dropped to a murmur. "And mostly sane." Then, before Nyssa could ask her what she meant, Reyna changed the subject. "Anyway, I shouldn't be complaining, right?" She forced a smile. "At least it's different. The nightmares about pirates were getting pretty old."

Nyssa raised her eyebrows. "Pirates? Do you have a pathological fear of them or something—?"

Reyna laughed shakily. "I wish it was that simple. I was a prisoner on a pirate ship for ten months—after they destroyed my home and killed all the friends I'd ever had, other than my sister. It . . . it was a rough ten months."

Nyssa's mouth dropped open. It took a while for her to find words. "You're serious?"

"Very."

She shook her head. "Gods," she said. "Why do you guys all have crazy, tragic back stories? You're like freaking comic book characters."

Reyna shrugged. "The same reason comic book characters have them, I guess," she said dryly. "Crazy, tragic adventures in our present-day lives just aren't enough." She looked around the cockpit. "Now, are you going to tell me what all of these switches do, or am I going to have to make small talk for the rest of the flight? Because you know there's no way in Styx I'm going back to sleep." I don't need to see Leo falling apart in the Mansion of Night—not when I don't know if I'll be able to talk to him a second time.

Nyssa looked at Reyna in surprise. "You're interested in becoming a pilot?"

"No," Reyna said honestly. "But you are, and I don't see anything else in this cockpit worth talking about, so I figured you would enjoy rambling about planes for a few hours. It's better than silence. Or am I wrong?"

"You're not wrong." Nyssa's eyes lit up as she started describing the functions of the buttons around her. It was weird to see someone so passionate about a real-life career, Reyna thought. Her life had always been focused on making it through the day—and occasionally planning ahead for the next few. She'd never even thought about the possibility of doing something as an adult. She supposed . . . well, she supposed she'd never thought she'd make it that far.

As Nyssa talked about altitude and wind direction and a bunch of technical terms Reyna didn't understand, she leaned back in her chair and tried to look like she was paying attention, when really everything was going straight over her head. She'd just thought it would be a good idea to get Nyssa's mind off of Leo, and it looked like it was working so far. Reyna, on the other hand . . . Leo was all she could think about.

She thanked the gods that Nyssa had so many controls to describe. That kept Reyna awake for the rest of the flight.