CHAPTER SUMMARY

Will delivers Admiral Nakamura's letter. Nico reveals to Hades what actually happened at the bombing.

BEGINNING NOTES

Word Count: 3311

Rating: Teena and Up Audiences
Content Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Yeah, it's been a while. I've been super busy, until recently I've been working 2 jobs plus full-time university, but my schedule's opened up a lot more so I'm not spending 100 hours a week out of the house anymore. Hopefully I'll be able to update this and the other fic more in the future.

And all the characters are owned by Rick Riordan.

April 3, 1943

Austin and Kayla,

I'm sorry I haven't written sooner. Life has been

_NICO_

What happened next? I remember it in flashes: Indiscriminate screams of terror. Air that sets the lungs on fire with each breath. Smoke curls all around, so thick that the setting sun may as well have already dipped under the horizon, for the sky was lost to me. Lumber and other debris from the destroyed watchtowers bury me up to my neck, too heavy for my weak and aching body to move.

I heard the police whistles; I knew I had to run, or my perfectly-executed plan would crumble as the towers had. If I was at the scene of the crime, how could I be regarded as anything but guilty? Forget Luke's assassination-I would be executed for treason with Papà alongside me for the sin of raising a traitor. That was how the fascists did things.

If I couldn't worm my way out physically, I had to do so another way. What would my sisters do? I asked myself. I wasn't half the actress Bianca was, nor as persuasive as Hazel. The girls were good in the limelight, good with their words. That was why Bianca charmed Octavian in Berlin, Hazel evaluated potential allies in the Swiss Alps, and I was left behind as Papà's assistant. I was clueless with people. Hopeless.

No, Bianca's voice pierced my muddied thoughts. Your strengths lay in the dark, Nico, but they're there. Your intuition. Your discretion.

You're crafty, added Hazel. You can mold the world around you like clay. So mold it! Find your strength! Get up, Nico!

My eyes started to close. I swore I could feel the girls grab my shoulders as they screamed:

GET UP!

Another police whistle jolted me awake. This one was much closer than the last. It would take more than I had to free myself from the debris, but there was no other way. I grit my teeth and mustered my strength. A guttural yell erupted from my chest as I pulled myself up.

There was no hope I could succeed. And yet I did it.

Now, go! cried my sisters. Make your own luck!

The police were closing in. I couldn't get away. So, I had to think on my feet, make my own luck. A new plan... a new plan... if I couldn't run, I-

No, wait. That's it!

Go! They cried again. Run!

So, I ran. Into the crowd, towards the stage. The people were too concerned with saving themselves to bother with me, and most of the police force was at the perimeter, searching for the imaginary freedom fighters that set off the bomb. I couldn't trick them the way I needed to; the events earlier that day proved how paranoid and cautious they were being in the wake of Hitler's assassination attempt. No matter what I said, they would execute me in case I was more than at the wrong place at the wrong time. I had to go higher up on the food chain, to the only person who mattered anymore in this shitstorm of a country.

I jumped on the stage and pushed past the security team, right into the arms of Benito Mussolini. He grabbed me on instinct to steady me, for I looked weak enough to keel over. "Are you safe?" I pushed out through heavy breaths.

"What is this?" asked the bewildered Mussolini.

"I tried to warn the guards... I thought he meant the King... but he was aiming at you..."

Mussolini shook me. "Who?! What is going on?!"

"I pushed the gun away... I should've killed him... I'm sorry, Il Duce, I should've been stronger..."

"Speak, boy! Who shot at me?!"

I reached into my blood-stained pocket and pulled out the final ace up my sleeve: a small pin with a five-point star, the letters CRN nestled in its center. It was the symbol of the Italian Resistance Movement, given to us by the CIA in case we found some of the scattered members we could recruit as allies. I needed a name, but my brain was crashing. I was crashing.

"He called himself 'Maurizio,'" I managed.

Mussolini's eyes widened. "Ferruccio Parri was here?" he whispered to himself. His eyes darted around, gears turning in his brain. "You saved my life," he realized. "You saved my life," he repeated, louder now, enough so that King Victor-Emmanual stopped in his tracks and the police ceased their attempt to tear me away.

Papà turned to see what all the fuss was about. His eyes met mine, and my heart soared. "I did well," I slurred, a genuine smile on my face. He was safe. All was right again.

Papà paled when he saw my injuries. "That's my son!" he screamed. "Nico! What happened to you?!" He strained against the guards in his attempt to rush to my side.

"He saved our lives," Mussolini told him. "He stopped Parri in his tracks. Your boy's a hero, Hades."

That was the last thing I heard before I blacked out.

_WILL_

For once, my shift guarding Adolph Hitler moved too quickly. I stood outside his door until 4 o'clock, when another stoic S.S. officer came to relieve me. I wished I had a longer shift. Now, I had to deliver Admiral Nakamura's letter.

Distress rose in me the closer I came to room 208. I did not want to be seen delivering anything to anyone. I did not want duties from the Admiral. I did not want duties, period! I wanted nothing to do with the Nazis, nothing to do with the war. I wanted to return to backwater Greece, or, better yet, the middle of nowhere American town my siblings called home. How have I ended up here? I wondered as I wandered the west wing. How did I end up in Germany? How did I end up so far from home?

I sighed. I knew the answer. My entire life, I had sailed on the stormy seas of bad luck, cursed by heaven. How else could I explain my longing for the male sex?

It took quite some time to reach my destination, and while much of me was apprehensive, a small part welcomed the relief from my blasphemous thoughts. Letter in hand, I knocked on the door.

"One moment!" came the response. It was muffled, but I could tell it wasn't Miss di Angelo's voice. I heard the click of high heels as the occupant stepped towards the door. I stiffened in anticipation of her arrival. A member of Hitler's guard must always be in proper form.

The door opened. In front of me stood a woman in her mid thirties, with chestnut hair and tanned skin. A newborn wrapped in a yellow baby blanket lay quietly in her arms.

"My apologies," the woman said, "the moment I put her down she'll wake. How may I help you, sir?"

"Heil Hitler," I said with the proper salute.

"Yes, heil," she answered with an amused shake of the head. "That is all you young men seem to say."

"Is this room 208?" I asked.

"Yes."

"I have a letter for you." I held it forward.

"I'm not expecting anything," she mused to herself. "Ah, well, I'll have to ask you to come inside. I can't well take it with Macaria in my arms. Put it on the coffee table behind me, next to the couch. I'll try to put this little girl down."

She turned to a crib pushed up against the sitting room wall, allowing me to enter the room. As I put the letter down, I noticed the woman's wedding photograph framed on the wall above the couch. There were two young adults standing beside the bride and groom, a boy and girl.

And the girl was Miss di Angelo.

"You're Miss di Angelo's stepmother?" The words came before I could stop them. I knew she could not be Miss di Angelo's mother, unless she had given birth at age twelve.

"Yes," Mrs. di Angelo said. "You know her?"

"She has been kind to me since I arrived here," I said. "I am grateful for that."

"That is like her." Mrs. di Angelo came beside me. "This was two years ago, in Venice. That is my stepson, Nico. He and my husband are in Rome at the moment."

"It must be a hard separation," I said.

"Quite," she replied. "I will be happy when I can return to him and present Mr. di Angelo with his new daughter."

"I understand. My mother was also apart from my father when she had my youngest sibling. It was hard on her, too." I left out that he died before he returned to my mother. There was already a sadness in her eyes, I did not want to add to it.

"Yes, well..." Mrs. di Angelo sighed. "Who is the letter from?"

"The Admiral Ethan Nakamura," I said. I ignored her look of confusion. She tore the letter open and scanned its contents. Her eyes widened. My curiosity spiked, but I didn't dare to give into it.

"You may return after dinner so I may give the Admiral my response. I'll tell Miss di Angelo you stopped by, Lieutenant...?"

"Solace," I said. "Good day. Heil Hitler."

"Yes, yes," she muttered to herself, staring curiously at the letter.

I had dinner alone, in silence, in my room. I first tried to focus on the German language textbook that lay in front of me, but my muddied mind was hardly able to focus on such a trivial thing. My fork lay clean in front of me, my stew untouched. I was desperate to write to Kayla and Austin, it had been weeks since I'd penned my last letter, but what could I say to them? I spent my days standing, doing nothing outside Hitler's door, and what few tasks I got up to were clearly meant to be spoken of with discretion. In other words, if any of note in my life wasn't allowed to leave Berlin. Hell, it wasn't allowed to leave the walls of the Old Chancellery!

How long had it been since I arrived? The days blended together so much that I'd lost track. I checked the calendar hanging on my wall. It was April 3rd. I'd arrived at the end of February. It had been over a month. How was that possible?

I slammed the textbook shut. I was absorbing nothing, anyway. And, it was then that I realized I hadn't been outside since the night I arrived. The Old Chancellery was large enough that I hadn't needed to. They supplied everything I needed, and I've been so busy on-duty and so tired off-duty that I never did anything but eat, sleep, and occasionally study.

I suddenly longed for fresh air. It was well past eight, but the city was bright at night, unlike the rural Greece my old barrack had been in. The full moon shone, inviting, from my window, urging me to step outside.

I'm off duty, I thought. What's the harm?

As it turned out, a whole lot.

_NICO_

I woke on a hard mattress. Every inch of me burned with pain. I tried to move to a more comfortable position, but the tiniest bit of movement flared the burning even more. I groaned in agony. My lungs felt on fire.

"You're alive! Thank God, thank God..." I heard my father say.

"Can you speak?" came a female voice. I didn't recognize it.

"Yes," I managed. I opened my eyes, blinking a few times to clear the blur. I was in my bedroom with Papà sitting beside me, and a female nurse leaning over me.

"Good," the nurse said. "You're a hero, sir. It's an honor to tend to you."

"Thank you," I said, but that led to another wave of pain.

The nurse handed me a small vial of a reddish, brown liquid. "Drink this," she said, "it's called laudanum, it'll help with the pain."

"Let me do it," Papà said. He brought the vial to my lips and I gulped it eagerly. Which was good, because, had I tried to sip it, the bitter taste would have put me off. I grimaced.

"Bitter, I know," the nurse said. "Il Duce and his Majesty will want to know. Where is your telephone?" Papà pointed her to the living room, and, with that, she was gone.

"What happened?" Papà asked immediately, his voice low. "How did you get like this? I know you lied to Mussolini and the King."

"Do they?"

"Of course not. You wouldn't have stopped an assassination attempt on Mussolini, you would've given your hand to assist. You wouldn't pass up the chance for heroics." There was an amused glint in his eye. Rare for him.

"Castellan was trying to kill you," I explained. "I overheard his plot earlier today. You have no idea the trouble I went to to stop him. I couldn't let him get to you."

"What? Why would he do such a thing?"

"I overheard him talking to a member of the court, Kronos. He'd discovered Castellan was a spy, and convinced him to turncoat. I think he poisoned Mrs. Castellan, and blamed it on you."

"Is Thalia dead, too?" Papà's voice was a million miles away.

"I don't know. She may have been already when I heard the two talking, but if she wasn't, she's near to. Castellan was mad with grief. Why else would he have tried what he did?"

Papà closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Well, you did the job well. The crown and government is heralding you as a hero. As far as I'm aware, no one's discovered Castellan was, ah, caught in the crossfire."

"As if Mussolini would care," I said.

"I will write to Venice as soon as I get the chance," Papà said. "Try to rest. I suspect half of Rome will want to visit your bedside soon."

The laudanum had dulled the pain enough at that point that I could move a little more. I didn't dare roll to my side, but I managed to wiggle into a more comfortable position on my back. "Don't have to tell me twice," I muttered, and soon fell back into a deep sleep.

_WILL_

The night air hit me the second I opened the front door of the Old Chancellery. It was cool on my face. The electric lights that lined the streets glistened like stars in the sky. For the first time in days, I felt a semblance of relief, freedom, even.

I stepped outside. I gulped in the air, as much as humanly possible. I missed the salty smell of the sea that saturated Greece's air, but I knew I couldn't have everything. In many ways, Berlin was my prison, but at least it was a beautiful one.

I felt a strange anxiety at the prospect of seeing another person, so I headed in the direction least likely to be populated. I didn't know which direction that was, or what lay ahead, but I didn't care. I just wanted to be free.

I came into a courtyard devoid of another soul. I sat on a bench in the furthest, most shadowy corner, so I would be hidden from anyone looking to talk, or looking to drag me back inside. I wondered if I could sleep here, under the twinkling lights, in the fresh air. Of course I couldn't, it would be undignified of an S.S. officer, and I would get in a whole lot of trouble for breaking the norm, but it was fun to entertain the idea.

Fun. When was the last time I'd used that word?

My little gamble at privacy didn't serve me as well as I thought. Two figures came into the courtyard, one chasing after the other. It was clear from their demeanor that they were having some kind of argument. When they came closer, and I could see their faces, I realized I knew them.

It was Colonel Octavian and Miss di Angelo.

I froze. I didn't know what else to do, but I had the overwhelming feeling that I should not be here and they cannot know I'm here. They were occupied enough that they didn't peer into my shadowy hideout, so, perhaps, if I stayed put, they'd go away and I could escape to a different part of the city.

Octavian grabbed Miss di Angelo by the wrist and violently pulled her so she was forced to turn towards him. Their faces were inches apart. Then, he kissed her, not in a romantic way, but as a power play. She tried to shove him off of her, but he was too strong.

"Not here, not now," she begged. Her voice was fearful, soft.

"You are my wife in all but name, am I not allowed to claim my property?"

"I'm not your wife yet."

"You will be."

I saw Miss di Angelo stiffen. "Will I?" Her words came out stiff, sharp, and angry. I was taken off-guard, and so was Octavian. "Get your hands off of me. Now."

Octavian punched her, hard, in the nose. I heard the crack of bone. Bianca's hand went to her bleeding nose, but she didn't seem as phased as one would expect.

Bianca let out a harsh laugh. "You think I don't have a way out, do you? There's so much you don't know, Erich. So much beyond your control. Leave. Now. And I'll pretend nothing ever happened.

Octavian raised his fist again, but, this time, Miss di Angelo caught it. She kicked him in the groin with lightning speed and punched him in the temple with an open palm, so hard that he fell to the ground, writhing.

Miss di Angelo drew a bronze knife, hidden in the folds of her dress. She kneeled down, dangerously close to Octavian's neck. "I'm going to enjoy this. You're scum of the earth, Erich. I hope there's a hell waiting for you."

I heard a gasp from Miss di Angelo. She groaned, clutching her stomach, and fell to the ground, her own knife stuck in her chest. Octavian had turned it on her. He rose, shaking his head, hand on the temple where Miss di Angelo had struck him.

"Come out, Solace," Octavian crooned. "I surely hope you aren't in on this, too." I hesitated, and that seemed to be answer enough. "No, you're too weak to pull this off." He shook his head. "Get me inside."

"You... you killed her."

"Yes, I killed her. Now get me inside!"

Anger boiled inside of me. Miss di Angelo was only defending herself against Octavian's attacks. He deserved to stay there, wriggling on the ground, dying from whatever concussion Miss di Angelo's punch had given him.

"You think I don't know about Kayla and Austin?" Octavian snarled. "You cross me, and I'll make sure they go six feet under. You hear me!"

"What?"

Octavian laughed. "You think no one looked into you before we put you ten feet behind Adolph Hitler himself? You're sister's fiancé is a spy, you idiot, and the moment you cross me I'll give him the order to kill her. Rest assured, he reports only to me."

There was a cruel smile on Octavian's lips. "You're lucky, you know. There's so much more I could tell the Party about you."

My anger was replaced with absolute terror. My siblings. My past with the Greek resistance. Possibly my homosexuality. He knew it all. How could I have been so blind?

I gulped. My feet took a few steps towards him, and my hand reached to grasp his. My shoulder supported his weight, and my legs limped with him all the way back to the Old Chancellery.

END NOTES

I think most of you knew that was coming... sorry for all my Bianca lovers back there.

Sidenote, cause I'm not certain it was clear: I'm assuming Bianca knew about Nakamura's proposal and was planning to take him up on it. I was going to include that detail explicitly, but it wouldn't make sense for Bianca to be so forward with her status as a spy, even if she thought Octavian was about to be taken out.

Please comment so I know what you think! See you next time!