𝙄𝙉𝙁𝙇𝘼𝙈𝙀𝘿; heroes of olympus

ghost hunters

JASON GRACE
JASON WAS ONLY A LITTLE SURPRISED WHEN ANNABETH PULLED HIM ASIDE FOR A FAVOR.

In all honesty, him and Annabeth had never gotten along great. That was the same with him and Percy, and him and Hazel. He knew that if the ship split in half, he'd be on one side, and those three would be on the other side―probably with Frank and Nico as well.

Of course, him and her had gotten along before her quest for Athena―or Minerva―gods, the whole Greek-Roman thing was confusing. But that was just because he wanted to help her. He did care about her―she wasn't a close friend or anything, but it was the right thing to do. Plus, she was Erith's friend, and he knew that if anything happened to her Erith would probably lose a chunk of her sanity.

This time, though, the favor was a little bit more than knowledge on Rome.

"You talked to Erith in a dream, right?" Annabeth asked. Her eyes were bright and intense. Even though she was in the process of grieving almost every second lately, she hadn't lost the analytical glint in her eyes.

Jason hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah."

Annabeth actually smiled, a rare sight these days. "Great. I need you to do me a favor."

When she was done, he was sure this was impossible. "Annabeth, seeing Erith was purely coincidental. I'm not sure if I―"

Annabeth crossed her arms, scowling. "Jason, please at least try. If you can't, we'll resort to something else."

So this favor led to him falling a thousand feet in the air.

He wanted to argue that his mistake hadn't been at all intentional, because if he admitted it had been, then he'd just be called suicidal. But, he figured, as he blacked out and free fell through the sky, weren't all demigods a little suicidal?

Instantly, he plunged into a dream. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad, because he knew he couldn't wake himself now. His consciousness and subconsciousness were fighting a battle in his head, but somehow he knew in order to fulfill Annabeth's request it had to be this way.

So he let it.

In his dream, Reyna was standing in a small tent. Her hands were trembling. There was a piece of parchment in front of her and a blue pen placed between her browned fingers, but she didn't seem anxious to write anything.

Standing in front of her was Octavian―thin and pale as Jason had last seen him, but now his eyes were red-rimmed with anger. Just the sight of him made Jason's tongue feel heavy. He had stabbed Erith in Charleston and manipulated the legion, making Reyna's life a lot harder.

If there was any mortal that Jason hated, it was definitely him.

As for Reyna, Jason's feelings on her were very mixed, but one emotion was easy to identify: guilt. Back before Juno had done her switching business, Jason and Reyna had had a life together―a stressful one, but not a bad one at all. They had―okay, this was embarrassing to admit.

They had been in love.

He had never told her out loud, and neither she to him. But he knew her better than he knew his own hands, and he saw it in every careful gesture she made. It wasn't egoism, it was just fact.