Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Pre-Face

     If you are interested in fanfiction with happy endings then reader you will be sorely disappointed and will immediately desire a “three-day-in-the-infirmary” Solangelo fanfic. If you are interested in stories of betrayal, unfortunate events, and burnt pages; please proceed at your own risk. By the end of this fic, you will immediately feel instant regret for letting your curiosity get the best of your logic. Now is the time to turn back now; hit the back button on your browser, or just exit out of the window immediately. This story will only bring you deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper into the pits of despair and misery. You will lie awake at night thinking about the infinite possibilities of how the story will end, who will live to tell it, and who will be buried six feet under with earth crushing their lungs.

    This is the story of two boys, a few burnt pages, a battered copy of Fahrenheit 451, a game of cat-and-mouse, and a hand-gun full of blanks. The boys are located at opposite ends of the spectrum, but are locked in the same destiny, same fate. One boy determined to find the flame of an old passion while the other has a passion for arson. The split of their equators becoming a whole piece will eventually fall together like one big globe that was knocked over, broken apart, during a specific fight about the difference of wicked and good in the world. Feelings lit anew with each burning book and blown out flame.
So once again, my dear reader/fanboy/fangirl, it is never too late to turn back. You can always turn back and read a fluffy story about Will Solace and Nico di Angelo visiting Disneyworld for the first time, or proceed to cry your eyeballs out into mason jars to ship out to a specific author whom is writing this piece as they speak. Cry about two boys who are thrown into the world of wicked and good; lover or foe. You have been warned; it’s never too late.

Chapter Text

The story starts with a young blond man in his early twenties chasing a once formidable non-arsonist, but now turned arsonist. The story starts with Jason Grace standing at the stairs to the entrance to a once formidable library; a phrase which here means ‘the library that contained some of the worlds most protected secrets but now reduced to ashes’. This is where the story begins.

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Ashes.

Jason Grace breathed in the fading smoke of the library; the October air mixed with burnt pages of books filling his lungs. The pit was still warm, the fire was still there, just sleeping like a bear during the winter. The fire had come and gone like summer, but Jason knew this wasn’t the first fire that the arsonist had created. The perpetrator was an expert at this point.

He felt his heart drop to his feet from the disappointment. He wanted to kick, scream, or even throw something into the rubble but restrained himself. He didn’t need to bring attention to himself especially if the authorities were to show up anytime soon. He drew his coat in closer as the chill of the wind encompassed him and ashes blew into tiny tornados. He had to guess the fire began early in the morning, more than likely dawn. He knew who did the crime that was a fact he didn’t want to admit to himself. He swallowed hard at the thought of the arsonist.

Would he though? You thought you knew him, but he ended up betraying you.

Jason pushed the thought from his head. He was trying to find the arsonist and bring him to justice; that’s what his organization used to be about. Extinguishing wickedness and fires—both figuratively and literally. He leaned down and picked up a half-burnt copy of a book that he was all too familiar with. He almost laughed at the thought that a copy of Fahrenheit 451 would even survive a fire this great. He could almost picture the arsonist laughing at the thought too considering that his own battered copy of the book would be hidden inside his jacket. Jason could almost smell the cologne of the other even though he knew the man was miles away. Percy Jackson was no stranger to Ray Bradbury nor was he to Jason.

He turned away from the wreckage and started walking. He could hear the faint wailing of sirens and picked up the pace. He knew if he stayed any longer the authorities would question him without a doubt and he didn’t want the pleasantry of spending a couple of nights in jail again.

He walked down the cracked, battered sidewalks of the town of Things Carri’d. Why it was called this Jason didn’t have a clue. He used to joke that it carried most of the worlds paper making factories, but that thought quickly died when he returned back to find most of the factories had been ran out of business. He let out a bitter laugh. It was ironic to think to him that now the paper was gone and so were the books containing knowledge to prevent fires from arising.

He looked through the abandoned, dusty windows of the shops downtown. He remembered when they were vibrant, but now only skeletons of a town that used to be the main hub for V.F.D. He let out a sigh. Ever since the schism nowhere was safe for anyone. Friends became foes and lovers became enemies. Jason knew it all too well and he hated it. He fingered the spyglass inside his coat pocket; the dials turning around his fidgety fingers. He knew the closest diner was a couple of miles away, but he needed to make a call.

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By the time Jason had reached the diner, the sun had already risen. He had to guess that it was barely noon. When he arrived at Things Carri’d, the sun was just peaking over the horizon, coating everything in dim light. He caught sight of a familiar diner and entered into the restaurant. He approached, taking note of the payphone outside the establishment, and opened the door. He was greeted by the familiar smell of grease and vinyl seating. The 50s aesthetic bright in Jason’s mind. He passed by empty booths and slid into a stool at the bar. Jason could hear faint Elvis playing over the speakers.

The waitress, a tall burnet with bored hazel eyes, walked over to where he sat. She looked like she was in her forties, but life had worn her down to look older. The way she dressed made Jason believe she was going through a midlife crisis. The two looked at each other, Jason taking note of her greased stained uniform and the waitress glancing over his ratty, thrift store sweater vest.

“What can I get you?” She asked, her voice raspy from the pack of cigarette she probably smoked. “And today’s special isn’t very special, so I won’t even mention it.”

Jason cracked a small smile at her cynicism.

“Can I get a burger with a jar of very fresh dill?” Jason responded, praying she wouldn’t catch on to the code. He already knew the answer to the last part of his question, but a small part of him was paranoid about others listening.

She gave him a long stare and shrugged her shoulders.

“Whatever, kid.”

He could hear her say a faint ‘weirdo’ and retreated back into the kitchen. Jason looked out of the large windows in the diner. The town of Things Carri’d distant against the horizon. By now the police would be questioning what remaining business that were still open downtown. He knew they wouldn’t find anything though. It was the perfect arson; no evidence, no witnesses, and no books. That’s how the other side of the schism works; they work in the ink of the night.

Why though?

Jason felt the question burning in his brain. He didn’t understand why Jackson would be burning what Jason thought was important.

But, yet, you do understand. At least a small part of you does.

He closed his eyes at the thought. He could remember their fight a few months ago. The fight that had split the two apart and had made Jason want to start the manhunt for Jackson. He could still feel the other’s hot breath against his face as he said his last words to Jason. Jason had honestly wished he knew how to make a time machine. He was sure Leo could, but Leo was unfortunately missing in action. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had talked to the Latino. It was before the schism for sure.

The schism.

He inwardly cursed at the thought. Because of the schism, he had lost touch with most of his volunteer friends. Some of them had even joined the other side of the fight or had just left the organization all together. He opened his eyes and sighed. For a moment he was back in the memory of headquarters, but he was only greeted with the reality of the diner.

The waitress came back with a tray carrying his burger and the familiar jar of jam. She set it down in front of him with a roll of her eyes.

“One burger and a jar of fresh whatever-the-heck-you-wanted. Very fresh dill wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Jason responded. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

She left without saying anything else. Jason glanced around and slowly opened the jar. He grabbed his fork and quickly fished out the piece of paper hidden at the bottom of the jar. He grinned at the message. He pulled a twenty out of his pocket and left without a word. He slipped out of the door, without the staff noticing, and went straight to the payphone. He inserted the quarter and hands quickly dialed the familiar number. He heard the line ring four times before the line picked up.

“Hello.” A voice, smooth like a public speaker’s, responded.

“I didn’t realize this was a sad occasion?” Jason replied, trying to stay collected as he recited the code.

“The world is quiet here.” The voice responded.

“Nico di Angelo. God, it’s been too long.” Jason laughed.

He could hear the other chuckle on the other end.

“Same with you though.” Nico responded. “How have you been?”

He could hear the faint sound of Nico’s fiancé, Will wasn’t it, saying something in the background and Nico responding.

“I’ve been fine.” Jason finally said after a few moments of listening to the couple bickering. “Y’know, following fires.”

“Trying to find Jackson?”

Jason felt his smile drop a little. Was he that transparent?

“I mean… I guess. I mean, he’s committing crimes, but nobody’s bringing him to justice, so someone’s got to do it. You know how incompetent the authorities can be. It’s just—”

“Grace. I get it. You don’t have to explain yourself. I know the schism really affected you. Just don’t push yourself too far.”

Jason let out a snort.

“You, of all the people, telling me to don’t push myself.”

He could feel the other’s dark stare through the plastic phone. The static of the line filling the silence.

“So,” Jason cleared his throat. “How’s you and Will? Um, I wasn’t sure if you two have gotten married yet or not.”

He could feel the dark mood dissipate. He heard Nico choke on the other end and Will’s laughter filling the line.

“… We’re still waiting.” Nico responded. “We don’t want to rush things and considering how unsafe everything is right now; we just don’t want to risk anything. Considering we’ve both been working on moving the headquarters out of the Mortmain Mountains to somewhere safer away from wickedness... our time has been occupied.”

“Understandable. Has Annabeth and Reyna been helping at least?”

“About that… Annabeth left a couple of weeks ago.”

Jason leaned against the glass of the booth. Annabeth was gone?

“Why?” Jason breathed. “Is she looking for Jackson too?”

“I guess so. I dunno. She seemed pretty adamant about finding him. If I didn’t know her any better, I would’ve thought she was going to murder him, not going to lie.”

Jason let out a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, she does kind of give off that air. Do you know what direction she was heading to?”

“I think she mentioned heading towards Vestibule Fright Dock? I know she had received a message after seeing Zombies in the Snow that he was heading toward the city.”

Jason nodded his head. He figured Jackson would be heading towards their other headquarters. That’s what he had promised anyways and that’s where the trail was heading towards.

“I see.” Jason responded. “I’ll head that way then. Can you get me a taxi? I’m outside Things Carri’d.”

“That old town?”

“Yeah. He… burned down the library. There was nothing left but ashes. It wasn't pretty.”

“Then it truly is a sad occasion. How ironic.”

“I know. The world used to be quiet…”

“I know,” responded Nico, letting the thought settle in between the two of them. “Jason… I know you were really close with Jackson. Trust me, I used to be too. But… don’t let your emotions get in the way of justice. What Jackson is doing is wicked. I dunno why he would go down this path, but you and I know, that he can’t turn back now.”

“I know.” Jason said quietly. “But, I can’t help but try to save him, Nico…. I loved him.”

“I figured that would be your answer. I’ll call you a taxi. Good luck, Jason.”

The line went dead and the automated voice asking for an extra quarter spoke. Jason hung up the phone quietly and walked out of the booth. He breathed in the fall air, the leaves dancing across the road as the wind picked up. He could faintly smell the smoke in the air and he felt his heart ache. He leaned against the payphone booth and watched as the faint shape of a taxi approached.

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A/N

So, I deeply apologize for not updating in a while. While I do love this fic and I have started on the next chapter, school has taken over my life. I'm kind of in a tough spot and it's bumming me out. I'm like in a bajillion English courses and neck deep in my Creative Writing class and although that class has been a blast; it's definitely stinting my ability to write.

So, what does this mean for this fic?

I'm gonna try my best to start updating regularly. I actually wasn't expecting to have people actual subscribe and kudos this work??? This actually started out as a joke fic with my girlfriend, but to actually have people read this just blows me away (even if it's a small few).

But, thanks for reading this fic and I PROMISE ON STYX I will have this fic updated by the end of the month.

With love.