Chapter Text
~LEO~
Arms drawn backward as if restrained, thrashing in his invisible bonds, cycling through various gruesome facial expressions, Leo pretends to be Prometheus chained to that rock for eternity by Zeus. He winces at an imaginary eagle devouring his liver. It’s a good proxy for the tantrum he’d like to throw at the unfairness of it all.
Thalia and Reyna were incredibly specific in their charade prompts, mostly related to Greek and Roman myths. Only Annabeth drew a rogue “there’s no cell service, but then you remember you’re a demigod so you can’t exactly use it even if there was” prompt, which took the group a good twenty minutes to figure out.
At this point, most of them have gone; Will and Nico rejoined the group half-way through. Nico settled into the leather armchair and Will leaned against one of the arms. The resumed proximity seems, in Leo’s view, to bode well for whatever feud they’ve been having.
Frank snaps his fingers. “Prometheus, right?”
Of course it would be Frank to guess it. Too damn clever. Too damn noble, refusing to use his shapeshifting abilities because he didn’t want to cheat. Frank, who’d so easily returned to hating him after their years of effort to build a trusting and appreciative friendship. Frank’s betrayal stung all the more for his lack of apology. Despite apparently making amends with Hazel—if their couch-sharing and arm-touching was anything to go by—Frank seemed content to forgo his and Leo's friendship as collateral damage.
Leo meets Frank’s self-satisfied gaze and offers a curt bow, which he hopes comes off as mocking rather than obeisant.
Smirk faltering, Frank glances away. Possibly irritation. Possibly remorse. Doesn’t matter.
Leo returns to the beanbag, simmering in embarrassment over his own stubbornness. He hides his face against Piper’s shoulder. She sighs and pats his curls. Softly, she says, “Oh, Leo.”
On Piper’s other side, Jason jostles the beanbag in his effort to stand. His turn, he says.
Thalia holds up the ‘I saved the world and all I got was this dam mug’ mug and Jason makes a show of covering his face with one hand, turning away, and rifling through the cup’s contents with the other. He lets out a smack of a laugh when he reads the slip of paper.
Leo watches Jason’s performance, cheek pressed to Piper’s shoulder, calmed by the rise and fall of her breathing.
Blushing, Jason points at himself, then flexes his muscles and puffs out his chest. He raises his sword arm and makes a downward striking motion. He pauses for several seconds, frowning. Holding up his left hand, he touches each fingertip with his right pointer finger like he’s counting. When he gets to his left pinky, he taps it. After another several seconds, his eyes widen in shock and he wrinkles his nose in disgust. He retches, waves a hand frantically in front of his face, tugs his t-shirt collar up over his mouth and nose.
Looking determined, Jason pretends to push up his nonexistent sleeves and wraps both hands around possibly a sword handle or a bat, Leo isn’t sure. But, when he plunges forward and hefts upward, backward, possibly over his shoulder, Leo realizes Jason’s digging, which means it must be a shovel in his grip. Leo struggles to recall which myth involves shovels.
After a while of digging, Jason seems to grow frustrated. The son of Jupiter tosses the presumed-shovel onto the ground, wipes sweat from his brow, throwing his hands in an I give up! gesture. Then, with exaggerated movements, he tilts his head, snaps his fingers, and raises his pointer finger high into the air.
He, then, even more confusingly, makes a series of flowing, dance-like motions that vaguely resemble waterbending from Avatar the Last Airbender. Jason makes a large, cresting arc with both arms. A broad, sweeping gesture with his right arm; and, a spiraling, downward motion with his left hand.
“LOL,” says Nico, grinning. “I have a guess, but you should probably finish just in case.”
Jason makes a face at him, but in good humor continues the charade. He dusts off his hands, grinning in a self-satisfied way, surveying his efforts. He removes his shirt collar from his nose and sniffs dramatically. This time, he doesn’t portray disgust.
“It’s Percy cleaning out the Aegean Stables,” says Nico, barely suppressing laughter. “Maybe the prompt was for Hercules, hence the fifth labor and you being jacked, but the waterbending was all Percy.”
Beaming, Jason agrees, “impressive.”
“When have I ever had such elaborate choreography?” demands Percy, aghast.
“It’s charades, bro. It’s gotta be over-the-top or you’ll never guess.”
“We love a commitment to the bit,” says Thalia, approvingly.
“Here! Here!” says Leo, sitting up.
“Anybody left?” asks Annabeth.
“I think it’s time…” begins Percy dramatically, drumming his knees. “for Mythomagic!”
“We really don’t have to,” protests Nico. “It’s kind of— I only have one deck and none of you know how to play.” He amends, “besides Will,” at an indignant noise from the son of Apollo.
“Why don’t you teach Jason and the rest of us can chill and watch?” says Annabeth, ever the pragmatist.
“Ice cream?” suggests Hazel.
“Ooo now there’s an idea!” says Percy.
Rachel looks skeptical. Probably assuming they didn't think to include her.
Leo catches her gaze from across the room and flashes her a cheeky smile. "We got non-dairy flavors. I gotchu. Don't worry, Rutabaga."
“What did you just call her?” mutters Piper.
“It’s an inside joke.”
“Okay. I got that part.”
As his friends get up and head over to the kitchen, it hits Leo once again that these are his last remaining hours with one of his best friends. It doesn’t matter that they’re surplus, miracle hours. Any gratitude is masked by the acrid bitterness of his burning lungs, his lack of air. He excuses himself to the bathroom.
At the sink, he splashes his face with cold water. He swallows sharply against the threat of crying. It is closing in on him. Once it grabs hold, he fears he won’t be able to stop. He’ll ruin everything. He’ll ruin these last moments with Jason for all of them. He cannot burden Jason with this, again. And, Piper is surely struggling with her own grief. Even the notion of wanting their comfort is selfish.
There’s a sharp knock at the bathroom door. His stomach wrenches at the thought of Calypso. She must hate him. He’s ruined their relationship, too.
He opens the door. It’s not Calypso, but Frank. The son of Mars looks a little like a hippocampus caught in glaring navigation lights.
Squaring his shoulders, Frank takes a deep breath and begins, “Listen, Leo…”
“No,” interrupts Leo, narrowing his eyes. “You, listen. I’m not interested in Hazel like that and she’s not interested in me. You literally have nothing to worry about. I’m sorry—“ his voice catches. “I’m sorry about kissing her. I had no choice. And I didn’t even want to—it was honestly traumatizing. Being forced to do that when Hazel wasn’t even present emotionally or whatever. And then you ice me out like I engineered it.”
Frank’s brow furrows and he drops his gaze. He takes a deep breath. “Leo, I’m really sorry that I did that to you. I’m embarrassed. I didn’t even think to ask if you were okay or how it made you feel. I got insecure and I took it out on you.” He takes another deep, ragged breath. “I’d understand if you don’t want my sorry-ass as a friend anymore.”
In a daze, thrown off by Frank’s acquiescence, Leo stumbles over to the combination shower-tub and sits on the edge of the basin. He says to his hands gripping the fiberglass, “Okay. Wow. Um…”
“Also,” says Frank, following him further into the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind him. He leans against the bathroom counter. “I—uh—I wish I could take credit for being a better person, but Hazel did have to talk some sense into me. Sorry about that, too. I should’ve realized I was being an asshole on my own. And, earlier.”
“Well…” Leo begins, glancing up to meet Frank’s eye. Apologize. Make nice. Do something.
“Anyway. I just thought I should say something before…later. In case you were even more inclined to shut me out when crap gets harder. And, even though it doesn’t seem like it—“ Frank grimaces. “I am here for you if you need anything. It’ll be tough on all of us, but you, Nico, Piper, Reyna, and Will, especially.”
“Thanks, Frank. I— I appreciate it. I could’ve confronted you—and checked in on how that round made you feel, but I—" He examines his tightening knuckles. “I’m a bit stubborn.” He laughs bitterly.
“As if I’m not. Don’t worry about it. You didn’t do anything wrong, Leo.”
Leo shoots him a dubious look.
“I mean it.”
“So…Hazel?”
Frank clears his throat. “We don’t have to talk about it if it’s awkward.”
“It’s not. I told you: our relationship isn’t like that. It was never really like that. So, I had a crush on her. She was cool and pretty and interesting. I develop crushes easily. I got over it.”
“I didn’t think about like that. That people might experience crushing differently.” Frank sounds intrigued. He’s pacing, gesticulating like he’s putting all the pieces together. He often rants like this. “I guess it makes sense! Reyna doesn’t even get crushes and Rachel says she rarely does. Percy said only after knowing the person well. Interesting.”
Leo smiles briefly before sighing and continuing, “I feel emotions very intensely. I think it’s the fire in me—ew that sounded cringe. Whatever. You get my point. Thinking back on previous crushes is so disconcerting. Being exposed like that in Round One was overwhelming. That was the source of my reaction more than it being Hazel. Also, I hated that Hazel was being used like that. It wasn’t okay.”
Frank frowns deeply. “You all dealt with so much in there. I got away pretty unscathed. I should’ve volunteered. I should’ve—"
“Frank, you did volunteer. The gameshow thing was stupid. And it was a difficult experience for all of us regardless of the part we were forced to perform.”
“Thanks, Leo.”
Leo nods. “So what’s with Hazel? Did you two sort it out?”
Frank blushes. “We’re back together. Yeah.”
Despite the weird tensions over the past several hours, Leo finds himself genuinely pleased by this. He grins. “Congrats, man!”
Frank breathes out a sigh of relief. “You approve?”
“Yes, Frank. You have my wholehearted endorsement. Okay?”
Frank beams then.
They’re all gathered around the table, eating their ice cream, watching Jason and Thalia play Mythomagic under Nico’s tutelage. Leo’s sitting between Reyna and Frank to Jason’s right. He’s bouncing his leg beneath the table in anxious anticipation of the end of the game, signaling even less time remaining with Jason. His grip on the edge of his seat tightens. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry. He’s trembling, barely holding it together. Don’t cry.
Reyna glances over at him, brow furrowing in concern. Although they’ve never really been close, Reyna holds out her hand to him under the table. Feeling self-conscious but not wanting to make Reyna feel bad, he takes her hand.
Inexplicably, his stomach settles, his heart slows, and the urge to cry suddenly seems far away as if yanked out of reach. His body relaxes and he feels oddly calm. He stares at her, startled. What the—
“Better?” murmurs Reyna.
“What’s happening?” He keeps his voice low so as not to distract from the game.
“It’s Bellona’s gift. I can share burdens and lend strength. It’s taken some honing and lots of practice, but it works for emotion as well.”
The knowledge that Reyna now bears his emotional baggage ought to make him feel extremely guilty, but Leo only feels mild concern. As if his ability to experience fear and pain has been muffled.
“I don’t want you to be stuck with all my crap,” he says, frowning.
“I’m not. It’s all right. I’m a professional compartmentalizer.” This isn’t exactly reassuring.
“Reyna, I— thank you. I feel like I can breathe now. I wasn't doing too hot if I'm being honest.”
She releases his hand. “I’m right here with you, Leo. It’s painful. I get it.”
“Thank you,” he says, again. He feels a surge of affection for the hunter. “You’re a lifesaver. I’m not kidding.”
“The effect will only be good for a few hours. You’ll eventually have to face it. I didn’t banish it or anything. Just redistributed its weight between us so it’s manageable.”
Thalia slaps another card down on the table between herself and Jason—nobody can convince her that she doesn’t need to be quite so dramatic. “I win!” she crows.
“No fair,” groans Jason. “How did you get Hades and Zeus and Poseidon?”
Smirking, Thalia runs a hand through her choppy bob. “What can I say? I attract power.”
Reyna laughs and feigns gagging. “Please,” she says.
Thalia holds up the Poseidon card, which Leo now realizes is faded and crumpled. She scrutinizes it in the dining room light. “Why is this one all sad and messed up?"
Leo glances across the table over to Nico who’s smacked a palm to his face and is muttering something like I don’t want to talk about it. Leo shifts his gaze to Percy who conveniently busies himself with asking Calypso something.
Leo’s honestly a terrible boyfriend. Objectively, Calypso ought to break up with him. These thoughts seem to pass through his mind without settling, without making him feel antsy and panicked. Strange.
“That’s it?" asks Jason. "I don’t get another turn?”
“That’s it. Thalia won,” confirms Nico.
“Read it and weep,” says Thalia.
Jason grins and says, “Good game, sister. Thanks, Nico, for your esteemed guidance.”
Nico snorts. “You’re welcome!”
After piling their dishes into the sink with promises to clean up later, the group heads outside early to stargaze upon Jason’s request. Annabeth suggests that the incantation site is as good as any. Hazel borrows Nico and Reyna to retrieve a pile of quilts for protection against the itchy grass.
Piper snags Leo’s arm before he can follow the others into the hall. “Hey, are you okay? I wanted to check on you.” Her stare is unyielding, seemingly scrutinizing him for signs of despair.
“Reyna did something. It’s bearable now. Since her mom’s Bellona she can lend strength or something. Said it works for emotions, too.”
Eyes widening, Piper whistles appreciatively. “Sounds like I gotta talk to Reyna.”
He laughs. “It’s temporary.”
“We’ve got each other, all right?”
He nods.
She hugs him, fiercely. If it lasts much longer, his ribs aren’t gonna make it.
“Heyy, Piper…” he pats her back gently. “Can’t— breathe—"
She releases him, looking teary-eyed. “Sorry.”
In the clearing where Jason first appeared, they’ve created a nest of blankets and are currently lying on their backs in a crush of bodies—legs touching legs, touching arms, touching shoulders, touching heads. Leo’s somehow wedged between Jason and Piper and Annabeth. The friends spend their remaining hours in intervals of anecdotal reminiscing, laughing over hijinks, in amiable silence, and trying to recall (often, improvise) the stories behind various constellations:
“…remember when Leo was in love with that ice princess who tried to have us frozen?” teases Jason. “Death is clouding my recollection, but I remember that quest so fondly!"
“…fun fact, the big dipper is what Mr. D uses to serve his punch at parties…” jokes Leo. “And, the little dipper…”
“…okay so, we’re decked head-to-toe in Waterland crap…we’re barely tolerating each other at this point. More like frenemies or co-workers…” Percy is saying. Annabeth snorts at this. “…then all of a sudden we’re trapped on the freaking TUNNEL OF LOVE—my thirteen-year-old brain was mortified, okay…” Annabeth interjects to remind Percy about the spiders: "ewwww."
“…JOKINGLY mind you—I didn’t realize she’d take me so seriously—" Reyna interrupts Frank here to say that his humor is Sahara Desert Dry, to which he replies whatever and continues, “I jokingly tell Lavinia that Poison Oak’s favorite color is pink because her crush was becoming incessant—she was always getting distracted—anyway, I was joking. Poison Oak hates pink actually and I thought everyone knew that. So, what does Lavinia do? She dyes her hair pink! She gets Poison Oak a pink birthday present and a pink birthday card and bakes her a pink birthday cake. Gods, it was so awkward and I felt horrible. Lavinia’s hair ended up looking really good, but still—”
“…many people don’t know this,” says Piper dramatically, “but Orion was a shopaholic….”
“….so I had to sneak into the Poseidon cabin while Percy was canoodling with Annabeth in her cabin…took me forever to find the damn thing…part-way through the process of transferring the dye into the toothpaste tube, they came back to his cabin and I have to hide under the bed…like, am I about to be scarred right now?” At this point in Will’s story, Percy cries out, “Hey!” causing the others to descend into giggles.
Later, after Hazel finishes telling them about this bakery she grew up living nextdoor to (several decades ago), and all the regular characters she ran into there, Annabeth sits bolt upright, swearing under her breath. “Twenty minutes,” she says.
Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes left with Jason. Twenty minutes is too thin a barrier between Leo and the reprise of his grief.
The friends scramble to get up, attention directed entirely to Jason. It is unavoidable: this goodbye.
“I’d like to— Can I—" begins Jason. “I’m going to say goodbye to each of you; and then I have something to say to all of you.”
They make a wide, wavering circle.
Twenty minutes. Is it nineteen, now? Eighteen?
When Jason makes it to Leo, he places a hand on either of Leo’s shoulders and gives him a brave smile. “You’ll be alright, Leo. I know you’re freaked that you won’t be able to handle it. To be honest, so am I. But we can. We’re always stronger and more resilient than we give ourselves credit for. Trust yourself, man. I love you. I want you to keep living your life, okay? Saying goodbye is sad, but change and loss are part of life. And it won’t break you. We’ve been here before. We made it before! I am so grateful you exist, man. To have had you as my friend!”
Leo feels as if he’s being squeezed in a giant’s fist—too weak to resist and he’s struggling to breathe. Finally, he manages, “love you, too, man.”
Jason tackles him in a big bear hug.
After a moment, Leo lets go of Jason, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. He can tell whatever Reyna did is beginning to wear off; gratefully the despair isn’t yet crushing.
Nico’s next. Leo tries not to eavesdrop. As Jason circles, making parting remarks to each of them, it feels more like they’re sending him off on an extra-long journey rather than anticipating his death, again.
At last, stepping into the middle of their circle, Jason says, “Thank you all for these precious hours. It means more to me than I can adequately express. I love you all so much. I’m grateful to have you in my experience.” He clears his throat. “Hazel told me you can’t look because the spell causes a tear in time and space—something like that anyway—and the light is similar to looking directly into the sun. I don’t want anybody to get hurt, but it does seem kind of lonely to have all of you way out there when I leave. Uhh I wondered if—" he blushes. He reaches out to Piper, who’s nearest to him, and she takes his hand.
She nods and says fiercely, “You shouldn’t have to go through this alone. Here, we can still protect our eyes.” She turns away from him and closes her eyes, while still holding onto Jason.
“She’s right,” says Reyna, taking Jason’s other hand.
Jason laughs. “I need more hands.”
They all laugh, too. A nervous tittering.
Leo steps forward, offers Jason a smile, and wraps his fingers around Jason’s right wrist above Piper’s hand. He drops his head to Piper’s shoulder and she lets her head rest against his. Will is on the other side of Leo, placing a hand on Jason’s upper arm. Everyone else slowly fills in this circle around Jason, each holding onto him, each turned outward like rays from the sun.
“Two minutes,” whispers Annabeth.
They’re all pressed together, breathing together, crying together.
“Jason? Are you ready?” asks Hazel.
“I suppose it’s happening regardless,” muses Jason. “Thanks for making this possible, Hazel. And, Annabeth, too. Thanks, everybody. Love you so much.” He takes a couple of deep breaths. “I think I’m ready. Yeah.”
The night fills with a chorus of ‘yeah’s and ‘thank you’s and ‘love you’s.
There’s nothing else to say and Leo grounds himself by focusing on where his hand grasps Jason’s warm wrist, Jason's alive-pulse, and where his head meets Piper’s shoulder. He closes his eyes.
“Goodbye,” says Jason, softly, and it sounds like he’s saying ‘I love you’ and ‘this hurts’ and ‘I wish you all the best’ at once.
Goodbye, Jason.
It’s less that there’s a sudden noise and more that all the other noises stop—it is a loud, prolonged silence that presses down on all of them. Leo still sees the brightness of the flash beneath his eyelids. More jarring than the eerie lack of sound and the explosive light is that Jason’s wrist is no longer under his palm. Leo’s fingers close around nothing and he gasps.
As if the movie has been unpaused, the sounds of the night return in full force, and his friends whirl around to confirm that Jason is truly gone. And, he is. Jason Grace is gone.
Leo stumbles drunkenly to the edge of the clearing, away from the group. He sinks to the ground, vision going blurry with tears, body burning. Breathing feels impossible. How had he been breathing mere minutes ago? He cannot hear the wind in the trees nor the cicadas nor the frogs because his own sobbing fills his ears. The others are crying, too. Some attempts are being made at comfort.
He wonders if Bellona’s gift has broken because Reyna is undone by Jason’s passing, too. She cannot hold his grief when she can barely shoulder her own. He ought to check on her. His body refuses. His legs are leaden and his arms are trembling. He’s so fucking weak. Everything that he’s been spared for the past few hours comes crashing back, breaking over him like a wave. It’s impossible to fight; he might as well succumb.
Arms wind around him, then, and pull him into a chest. Fingers gently card through his curls. He smells Calypso’s vanilla sage deodorant and tea tree shampoo.
“I’m sorry,” he says, barely able to say it for the lump in his throat.
She wipes at the tears on his face. “I know, Leo. I’m sorry, too.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says, miserably. Will he ever be happy, again? He wonders if this is how Atlas—or Annabeth for that matter—felt as a structural column preventing the collapse of the sky, the sheer, agonizing pressure of it.
Kissing his cheek, his brow, his head, Calypso tightens her hold on him. “Leo Valdez, you’re so important to me. I don’t always know how best to support you, but I want to. I wasn’t open to you needing space. That’s not usually what I want when I’m struggling, so I couldn’t accept it as helpful. If that’s what you need, I’ll give it to you.” She lets out a sob. “You saved me from that island. I keep feeling like I need to save you from whatever this is. Like in order to deserve—" Another sob.
Like a spike of adrenaline, the sudden panic that Cal’s been feeling emotionally indebted cuts through the sluggishness of his grief like nothing else can. He sits up, facing her, and says with as much conviction as he can muster. “You do not owe me anything. If it had been magically possible for you to have gotten yourself off that island, you would’ve. You weren’t a damsel in distress, Calypso. Besides, we helped one another leave that place. You had just as much a part in it as I did.”
Her face crumples. “If you hadn’t come back for me, you would’ve been with Jason before he was murdered.”
It’s a thought that’s crossed his mind before. One he’s tried to bury, to incinerate. A thought that helps no one.
“There’s no scenario in which I didn’t return like I said I would. I was going to come back for you no matter what. The timing and fucking Caligula aren’t on you or me or any of us.” It surprises Leo that he’s able to abstain from blaming himself when he’s spent such a long time doing so.
She gives him a watery smile.
The twelve of them spend awhile out in the clearing, unable to bring themselves to leave, hugging each other and crying. Eventually, they return to New Rome and the praetors’ quarters for another late night bedtime. Leo knows they’re all exhausted beyond belief. He also knows the likelihood of sleep is slim.
What if they wake to realize this has all been a dream? That Jason was never here?
This time, they split up between Frank’s and Hazel’s bedrooms as well as the Heroes Lounge (Hazel retrieves two air mattresses from the utility closet). Leo wanders out onto the screened-in porch with a pillow and a couple of blankets. He unfolds the outdoor futon, only slightly wider than a twin-sized mattress, and covers it with one of the blankets. He drops the pillow at the head and curls under the other blanket. The slight breeze feels nice; he turns his focus to the orchestral movements of cicadas and amphibians, the swaying and sighing trees. It doesn’t take long before he’s nearly succumb to sleep.
Possibly an hour, possibly seconds later, someone’s frantically patting his arm and he jolts awake. “Wha—?” It’s Piper. She’s waving a small piece of paper in front of his face.
“Piper,” he groans. He swings his legs over the side of the bed to make room for her to sit beside him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. It’s Frank! He, Percy, and I couldn’t sleep. We were cleaning up the kitchen and he found this stash of letters that Jason wrote to everyone.” She’s nearly giddy with the revelation.
“Wait what? Jason wrote—when?” He stares at the envelope in Piper’s hand.
“Percy said something about how Jason didn’t sleep. I guess he wrote them after the three of us talked outside yesterday.”
Leo's heart races. “He wrote each of us one?”
She offers it to him. “It’s yours.”
“So, he was actually here then.” He doesn’t open the envelope, but stares at his name in Jason’s handwriting.
“Yes. I think that’s the idea. Something tangible for us to have.” Her tone surges with affection.
“Gods, he was so freaking thoughtful all the time. Kind of impossible to measure up if you think about it.”
She nudges his shoulder with her own. “Aren’t you going to open it?”
“Maybe I will tomorrow…” What if his is blank? What if Jason ran out of time? What if his is bad? What if Jason is confessing all the things he couldn’t stand about Leo?
“Leo, I think you should read it now. It was helpful to read mine. It gave me some peace.”
“But, what if—"
“Leo, everyone else’s was good. What do you think? He’s going to write nice letters to all his other friends and then be like gods, Leo what a piece of work! When has he ever been unkind? And to you?? He adores you. Read it.”
He offers the envelope to her, hand trembling. “Can you?”
She breaks the seal and slips out the letter. It’s a good page of tidy cursive. Damn. Who knew Jason was a regular penpal? She gives his hand a squeeze, clears her throat, and begins to read:
“Dear Leo,
First of all, don’t you dare find some way to blame yourself. Just don’t. I know how tempting that can be, but it doesn’t help anything and it’s not true. I hope you can go easy on yourself and take care of yourself. I’ll be thinking about you. I always am.
Second, I don’t think I ever quite got the courage to tell you how much I admired you. Don’t make that face—" Piper stops reading to catch Leo mid-grimace. He blocks his face from view with his palm like Piper’s the paparazzi. She laughs and resumes reading:
“I’m being serious. You are freaking incredible. A mastermind. There’s the obvious stuff like Festus and the Argo II, but I’m also talking about your levity—you knew how to ease tensions, boost morale, and find the humor in a lot of dark circumstances. I’m talking about your thoughtfulness and care for other people. You’re such a terrific friend, Leo. You were aware of dynamics and reached out to those struggling. You were aware of imbalances and sensitive to disadvantage. You’re there for other people and tune into their needs. You’re intuitive, creative, and super intelligent. You were pivotal on the Argo II crew and we didn’t appreciate your contributions nearly enough."
Leo's face burns under the scrutiny of Jason's praise. He feels embarrassed by it, seen, and pleased.
"Third, it freaking sucked, man, that we never got to have a proper goodbye the first time. I missed you so much. It feels like the stars aligned (maybe they did?? I’m still confused about the mechanics of bridging me here) so that we could have this. Retribution. Closure. Just to see your adorable face. Stop. I know you’re protesting that, too. Either out of embarrassment or self-doubt…haha I’m laughing writing this. I’m a bit loopy at this point if I’m honest and my hand is cramping. I saved yours toward the end because capturing everything our friendship means felt daunting. And, I failed anyway.
Really, all I can say is that you’re one of my best friends and I’m so grateful for you. Even if the reason we became friends was due to our tampered memories—the one thing I’ll be grateful to Hera/Juno for—"
Leo laughs loudly at this. His chest feels tight.
“love you (I swear I’ve never said or written love you so much in my life as in these past twenty-four hours of my death; man, dying really makes you realize what you take for granted while alive. Try to appreciate it and one another!!).
Love,
Jason.”
Leo’s crying again, softly, watching Piper re-fold the letter and slip it into the envelope. She hugs him.
“Love you, Leo.”
“Love you, Piper.”
She says goodnight and leaves the porch.
Leo is nearly asleep for a second time, when he’s roused by another person sitting on the edge of the futon and gently nudging his shoulder. He opens his eyes to see Calypso, radiant in the moonlight, her wavy auburn hair springing loose from its braid.
“How are you?”
“Wh—what time is it?”
“Sorry. I’ll leave. I—”
He laughs. “Cal, you can’t wake me up to ask me how I’m doing and then leave. I mean, you can. Did you want to sleep here?” The possibility is more appealing to him than he anticipated several hours ago when he’d been determined to save the others from his toxic company.
“Is that alright?” Her voice is tentative.
He smiles at her and scoots over on the mattress. She slips beneath the blanket and rolls into him, wrapping her arms around him. A thrill runs through him; despite being a prolific crusher, Leo had hardly any experience in the dating department prior to Cal. He somehow forgets how nice it feels to be held, to be wanted.
“Did you read the letter?” she asks softly.
“Yeah. It was really freaking nice.”
“Jason’s so amazing.”
“Yeah. He really is.”
“Sorry for waking you up.”
“Don’t be sorry. Thanks for seeing past my shitty attitude.”
“Oh my sweet one. You are going through a lot and I understand.”
Leo feels warm to his toes, blushing. “Love you.”
“I know. I love you, too.”
He leans in and kisses the tip of her nose, her cheek.
She gives him a fond smile. “I know you are afraid of your feelings.” Her brow furrows. “And, maybe it helps to take space and be alone, but know that you aren't alone. I’m here. And, Piper. Rachel. And everyone, really. We’re behind you.”
He kisses her on the mouth, briefly. “How did I get so lucky?”
She nuzzles his nose with her own, barely suppressing a laugh. “I could say the same.”
“Let’s all be lucky then. So dam lucky. And that’s dam without the ’n’ because I’m referencing that inside joke I’m not a part of but have now inherited by virtue of Thalia’s dam mug.”
Calypso stifles her giggles enough to kiss him again. Leo's stomach turns over. It's soft and sweet and earnest. But after several seconds, she starts giggling again and then Leo's laughing, too, and they're being way too loud for three a.m. or whatever time it is, but it feels GOOD. It feels like being alive.
Okay, Jason. Okay.