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My Ignis,
I’m writing to you with a heart of spun gold and wonder. Our trip through the ancient lands has led to discoveries of which we could have never possibly hoped for. There is nothing but time and mystery dwelling in these ruins and I wish you were here to see what I do. We had planned to speak to the local peoples within the week but there’s so much going on here that we’ve had to postpone it a fortnight. There are some, mainly the chiefs of certain tribes, that come to check in on us and our progress. We have shown them what to do and involved them in the process so they know we are not looking to harm what is so rightfully theirs. They are ever so kind and gentle and they are fascinated with our methods for discovery. I learnt something rather exciting from an elder but I think I shall wait till I’m with you to spill the secret. Oh how I miss your beautiful brown eyes and running my hands through your curls. If I think too hard I’m afraid I’ll come storming home, demanding a kiss at the front door. I hope everything is well there, and you haven’t managed to burn down our apartment trying to keep yourself warm. Think of me when you dream.
—from my heart to yours.
Leo Valdez folds the paper on its crease lines, smiling as he tucks it back into the thick envelope, along with the accompanying pictures. His heart skips a beat as the ache of missing her threatens to end him. It has been six months, twenty-two days and roughly ten hours since she boarded the plane to South America and he has felt every single one of those seconds.
The only thing keeping him from spiraling, from hopping on a flight himself is her letters which read like an 1800’s love affair and make him laugh and fall twice as hard. They had video calls every few weeks but the signal is choppy at best and sometimes she’s so deep in the jungle connection becomes an obsolete word.
He stares at the bulging envelope, flipping it over in his hands, tracing the address, picking at the wax seal. He laughs to himself as he imagines her frown because he destroys the pretty wax indent. Gods he misses her, and he wants her enough to scream. He doesn’t even want to do anything blush-inducing. He just wants to hold her. To bury his face in her neck and inhale the citrus, jasmine scent that is specifically her. But there’s three more weeks of the expedition and he’s half sure it is going to be extended.
Sighing he switches off the light at his desk and shuffles into the bathroom. Nights are early and unexciting these days. Especially when all his friends are busy with their own lives. He thinks briefly about calling Percy or Piper, just to have a good laugh, crack a bad joke. They always make him feel like the child he wishes he could be. Their energy is infectious and bubbling and full of curiosity. But then he remembers Piper is probably hanging at Reyna’s tonight since it’s there three year anniversary. And Percy is doing whatever it is he disappears to do every Friday.
Leo frowns, toothbrush caught in his teeth as the dots in his head start adding up. Percy is mysteriously unavailable most Friday nights and Jason has been “meeting a friend” every week for some time now.
“Son of a bitch!” He garbles around a mouthful of toothpaste. He makes a metal note to confront the two little sneaks. Although he’s half tempted to buy them flowers and a congratulations card instead. It’s only taken them long enough. If their friend group had to live through much more of their sexual tension he is sure they would have been able to cut it. He owes Frank ten bucks. They couldn’t have waited till after the new year? The toothbrush buzzes and he switches it off and finished up in the bathroom.
The bed is cold when he finally slips in but the electric blanket soon heats it up enough that he can relax into the pillows and wait for sleep to come. He hates being cold, hates the achy shivering that wracks his body when there’s a chill in the air. His girlfriend laughs at him, tells him he shouldn’t be cold when he always feels like a furnace. But when the temperature drops she’s burying her head in his chest and wrapping his arms around her to steal his warmth.
His heart gives another pang and he shoves his face into the pillow. The silk brushes against his cheek and he knows he must be going insane because it feels almost like her hand. With a groan he curls into a ball and squeezes his eyes shut.
He uses all the tricks in the books to fall asleep: saying the alphabet backwards, counting to one thousand (he gives up at around 200), imagining an entire universe and taking the people in it on adventures. But sleep is stubborn and faraway. The night is bright with possibility. He doesn’t care for any of them.
Just then he hears a shuffling from the kitchen. Immediately he’s out of bed and grabbing the baseball bat from inside the cupboard. He stands by the door, holding his breath and praying it is just his wild imagination. A soft thump sounds from somewhere in the house and his stomach is in his throat. The curtain ruffles as the night breeze dances through the window. Everything is quiet.
Slowly he pulls the door open, wincing as it creaks. Before he steps out he listens hard for any other noise, but he is greeted with silence. He takes one tentative step into the passage, and then another.
Something knocks against the wall.
“Mierda,” He curses softly, gripping the bat tighter.
“Is—is someone there?” His voice is croaky and shaking with nerves.
The questions is met with unending silence. He can hear the hum of the electricals.
“Hello?” He tries again.
And then light is flooding the room and he hisses at the contrast. When he’s blinked back the tears and managed to adjust his sight his eyes fall to the bags in the middle of the room.
He looks up, heart stuttering, stopping, cracking.
“Hello my love,” Annabeth Chase smiles softly.
Leo crumples to the floor. She is at his side in an instant, taking his hands into hers, lifting his head softly, cupping his cheek.
Her blonde hair is loose, soft curls messy from the flight and her clothes are crumpled. He knows she’s itching to take them off. She hates creased clothing, unless it’s work; then she could be in a potato sack and she wouldn’t care as long as it didn’t hinder her ability to participate in the digs. But it’s her eyes, bright, beautiful, stormy with love that he finally catches in his observation. She stares at him, let’s him see the things she can never find the words to say. He is overwhelmed with emotion, with adoration, and shock, and the sense of rightness.
“You’re here,” He chokes out.
“I’m here my ignis,” She says quietly, gently.
“How?”
“I came back early. I missed you so—” Her voice breaks, “I missed you more than I loved work and I just needed to see you.”
“Thank you,”
“For what?” Her grey eyes widen as she takes him in.
“For coming back.”
And then he’s kissing her. The universe realigns.
“Don’t leave me again,” He gasps.
“I couldn’t if I tried.”
Their lips meet once more and Leo knows life is not about the journey. It’s about the person who walks it with you.