Wildfires, Heroes of Olympus ₂

072, houston i'm deceased

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
FINLEY                   BRIGGS

Jason visited her cabin that evening.

He did that sort of thing now. A few weeks ago, if Jason Grace had even dared to knock on Finley Briggs's door, she would've slammed the door in his face after threatening to shoot off his ballsack. 

But things had been different between them after Cupid, so she let him in. He sat criss-crossed in the middle of her bed. She sat with her back against the headboard, legs sprawled out.

"I was about to go on duty," Jason said. "Just wanted to check on you first."

Finn nudged his leg with her foot. "The idiot who got run through with a sword wants to check on me? Check yourself first."

He gave her a lopsided smile. His skin was so tan from their time on the coast of Africa that the scar on his lip looked like a chalk mark. His blue eyes were even more outstanding. His hair had grown to a length that would've never been acceptable in the legion. She found her eyes drawn back to his lips.

"I've been worse," Jason assured her. "During that quest I went on in Oregon, this dracaena cut off my arms."

Finn blinked. Then she slapped his arm. "Shut up."

"I had you for a second."

Her hand settled on his thigh, unmoving. They sat in comfortable silence. For a moment, Finn could almost imagine they were normal teenagers, enjoying each other's company and learning to be together as something more than enemies and—well—maybe something more than friends.

Finn wondered what it would be like if they didn't have to worry about dying a dozen times every day. She wondered what it would be like if they could just be with each other, away from the roles that were forced upon them as children. She wondered what it would be like if there wasn't a prophecy out there marking Finn for death.

"I never thanked you." Jason's expression turned serious. "Back on Ithaca, after I saw my mom's... remnant, her mania... When I was wounded, you kept me from slipping away, Finn. Part of me..." His voice faltered. "Part of me wanted to close my eyes and stop fighting."

Finn's heart did a slow twist. Her hand tensed against his thigh. "You wouldn't have given up. When you faced your mom's spirit—that was you. Not me."

"Maybe." His voice was dry. "It's just... I have my mom's DNA. The human part of me is all her. What if I make the wrong choices? What if I make a mistake I can't take back when we're fighting Gaea? I don't want to end up like my mom—reduced to a mania, chewing on my regrets forever."

Finn had to take her hand off his thigh, because it had started shaking too much. She scooted away from her headboard to get closer to Jason.

"Take this from someone who is the epitome of insanity," she whispered, "you could never end up like your mom. I don't know what will happen to any of us, but I know that. You'll make the right choices."

"How can you be so sure?"

Finn studied the tattoos on their forearms. For her—SPQR, the chalice of Bacchus, nine lines for her years in the legion. For him—SPQR, the eagle of Jupiter, twelve lines.