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The cold metal bit at his skin, hard and sharp and clamped tight around his jaw. Leather straps wrap tight around his skull, and though tugging at them is a futile attempt at freedom, he tries again. Again. Again.
Jason Grace claws at the muzzle trapping his mouth in its wire cage, fingers raw and bruised from the repeated attempts to free himself. Fingernails scraped and scratched and dug, doing more harm than good. They traced slippery red streaks into his face, skin and blood filling the beds of his fingers like vermillion ink. An animal caught chewing its own leg off to escape.
After growing up with wolves for so long, Jason was finally being treated like one, wasn't he? A bad dog bites, barks, claws and snaps. He wouldn't bite, he promises.
Please, I promise.
Steadily, panic flooded the boy's brain. He was supposed to be fearless, supposed to be strong. Jason was a leader. Still, as his fingers desperately pulled at the caging on his face, his eyes unfocused and shaking, he felt anything but. He'd only tried to help, to speed up the quest so the rest of the seven would have a time advantage against Gaea. So they would have a chance.
<< ~ * * * ~ >>
"I'll save Nico, Hazel. I promise." Jason's hand rested on the girl's shoulder, reassuring and soft. "He'll get back safe."
The tenderness in Hazel's eyes for her brother only sturdied Jason's resolve to rescue him. "Thank you, Jason. You're the only other one here who shows a sliver of concern." Her comment is directed at the rest of the group, who were hard against the mission to retrieve the son of Hades. After the confirmation that some attempt was being made, she retreated to gather her sword for the trip, defiant glare set against the rest of her friends. Their betrayal would not lay forgotten.
<< ~ * * * ~ >>
"Hazel! Nico!" Jason attempted to grit through his teeth, though his voice echoes in the room as a weak cry. His jaw movement was restricted, words slurred together in a blend of consonants and off centered vowels.
The bronze jar, decorated elegantly with figures and blocky patterns, sat tauntingly before him. It was merely inches away. Inside lay the boy he'd set out to save, his sister nowhere in sight. If only...if only he could reach a little further. As he forced himself forward, a metal collar scratched his throat raw. Links of Styngian iron clipped him to the floor, allowing little to no space for movement.
Isn't it ironic? Caught and chained like a dog. The powerful son of Jupiter, Praetor of New Rome, reduced to a shaking mess by means of a pretty necklace and a bowl of terracotta.
"Please..." Outlined shadows on the floor revealed the looming presence of the twin giants before him. It didn't seem like they paid him any mind. Why would they? He was an insignificant flea, a bartering chip they'd pay to Gaea for her favour later on. One demigod of the prophecy to spill their blood for the earth mother's plans.
She's halfway there, with no intention to stop. If Hazel doesn't get out of here...No. he can't think like that. She's going to escape, get the rest of the crew, and complete their original mission. This was Jason's purpose. He was the leader, the first to sacrifice (Why did he always have to sacrifice? Couldn't he, for once, choose himself?) for his team, the first to take a step into the dark, grasping at the shadows with nothing but false confidence and an unwavering determination.
He had to. What was he without his title?
Worthless. Empty. An item discarded, kept for its pretty face but not much else.
His knees hit the floor with a defeated thump, the cool rock beneath him nearly soothing in a way that felt unnatural. Comfort isn't supposed to exist in a situation like this, and yet here it was, in the smallest fraction possible. The cool feeling slunk up his legs, nestling in his torso deep inside. It burrowed there, dug in with its claws and carved out a space it would never truly leave.
Jason's lungs shuttered, contracting in a feeling he's walked through time and time again. Breaths come shallow and broken, fingers clenched over the heart of his shirt like if he holds it tight enough, he can rip out the rot growing inside. The sharp cold of metal bites into his chin as he hiccups in air, scraping flesh with each involuntary tremble.
Jason bows to the weight of the ground, crumpling as the sound of metal links clatter upon the rock. Hot, sticky liquid pools along his jawline, vision too blurry to register the crimson blood coating the metal of his muzzle.
He can't think. Why can't he think?
A splash of terracotta darts within Jason's sight. Nico. The pot. He's here for Nico, Nico, Nico!
Lunging forward as if maybe he throws himself just a little further, he could reach it. As if maybe he jumped just a little more, he could shed his mortal skin, leaving behind only fur and claws and canine teeth covered in the blood of his old self.
Just a little more.
The large ceramic barely brushes under Jason's fingers before a sharp pain erupts in his neck. The collar roughly pulls at his throat, sending him sprawling backwards. Jason's back slams against cement, stone and rock jutting into skin, shaking from manic energy. He coughs and sputters, gasping weakly at the newfound sting blooming like wildfire across his skin. Breaths came like bitter punishments, ragged intakes that couldn't help but hurt.
He could feel himself crying- Jason wasn't, no, he couldn't be, wouldn't let himself- It was like someone was crying for him. Tears slipped down his face, hot and blurry and unfamiliar, but it wasn't him. He doesn't cry.
...right?
It's just- No, it's stupid.
It's just that he thought he'd have so much to live for. That maybe there was a chance, after everything, that he could grow up. Live in New Rome, study, be free of the shackles he always held as a crown. Maybe he'd find someone to live with. A boy with bright eyes and burnt umber hair, pointed ears and that brilliant smile. Perhaps he'd get to travel, see the world in all the sparkly, touristy attractions he never seemed to care for until it was too late.
It was...always going to be too late, wasn't it?
He really should've known that being a demigod means survival is...unlikely. And yet- and yet he had so much hope. It slipped away, slowly at first, quicker by the second. Grains of sand spilling through his own personal hourglass. He could feel it leaving him each time he woke up in the morning, in the way soreness begged his muscles to lie back in bed, in the way every day felt like the same, blended together by meals and sparring and sleep and meals and sparring and giving everything. And yet, it was all he could cling to. That little bundle of sparks was the only thing holding him together.
Maybe he was the one crying.
Sobbing, really. Choking on tears and a voice swollen with broken confidence. Jason can't breathe.
What did Leo say to do? When he felt like this- drowning in a sea of air, oxygen too potent for his lungs to absorb- what did he say?
His eyes drip closed, rasping quietly as he tries to remember. Voices slowly slip behind his head, softened with the warmth of a pleasant memory. They're familiar, and yet Jason feels no pressure to remember specifics.
"One, two, three, four. Now release, okay? Good job, Sparky, there you go. Keep breathing for me."
"Come on, blondie! I told you, I'm not flying again. We're finding another way around, even if Zeus kills me for it."
"Awh, look at you! I told you blue was your color, it brings out your eyes. Right, Reyna? You agree?"
Bits and pieces float through Jason's brain like honey-coated whispers. He wants to stay here, in this warmth. Nothing but the soft voices of those he loves, friends he wishes he hadn't left, a sibling he wishes he got more time with. They're here, in this gentle place that only serves to cradle his injuries, wipe away the blood and scars and tears, and hold him tightly.
There's a commotion somewhere, only registering as a quiet annoyance behind the cotton carefulness of this space. Is someone calling his name? There's shouting, he can't make it out- Jason just wants it to go away. It's too loud, too much, a stain on his perfect world-
"Jason?" The voice is back. He hums quietly, a blissful smile that can't quite reach the ends of his face no matter how far he urges his lips to tilt. It calls again, different. Panicked.
"Oh, mea stella, what have they done to you?"
Gaze drifting upwards to warm familiarity, Jason blinks the figure in front of him into view. It's Leo. He's cradling Jason's face, holding him so sweetly, with calloused fingers and worn palms that wind their way around the crooks and planes of his cheeks. He laughs softly, or at least, he tries to. A short wheeze flickers through his throat as he reaches upwards, dragging the weight of his face to his Leo.
Though Jason's arms shake as they lift him from the ground, the ones that wrap around him are sturdy, familiar. He moves to nuzzle his nose into the crook of Leo's neck, like he's done so many times before, but...something stops him. He nudges with his face again, pressed to a chest that's whispering things he can't quite understand, that same prevention meeting him once again.
That's not right.
He reaches upwards, fingers grazing the cold of metal. What is..?
The muzzle.
The feeling sends a jolt of panic up his spine, a grounding sense of doom slipping into his consciousness. No- No! He thought he got out, he thought he was safe- He was safe! Where did his world go, why was he back here?
Jason whines, a low, pained noise that sends a rush of light and pain curling back into his mortal self. The voices, his warmth, it's gone. He's back on the cold, damp rock, still held by the embrace of metal, but now by one much more human in addition.
"L-Leo-" He stumbles, consonants fragmenting between his vocal chords. "Leo, get'toff."
"I'm working on it, I promise. I promise, I'm getting you out as soon as I can, just- just hold on."
Jason links his fingers into the squares of his trap, desperately attempting to yank it away. "Please- I can't- off!"
"Jace- Jason!" Leo catches his hand, clutches it still. His smile falters at the edges, trying so hard to mask the worry and horror with easy reassurance. "Don't do that. Please, you'll hurt yourself."
As Jason opens his mouth to respond, perhaps to apologize, perhaps to thank Leo, a clattering causes the two of them to look up. The giants- Hazel was dealing with the two of them. She was strong, but even she couldn't hold them off for long. When did she come back? She needed to leave- they all needed to leave!
"Leo, Leo, you hav't get out." Jason mumbles. "Gaea- She needs two."
"Like hell I'm leaving you here, mi cielo."
Jason's eyes drifted, scanning the room. It’s like his brain couldn’t focus- attention driven only to the scene around him. He was useless, a burden. They shouldn't take him.
Leo's talking, but Jason can only hear it as a passive thought. He clings to the chest he's held against, savoring the feeling of his hair rubbing up against the scratchy fabric of his jacket. "I don't know how well Styngian iron takes heat- if it travels, it could burn. Bad." Jason feels him rifle through his belt, movements becoming more erratic each time an item falls out.
Nico's jar had been tipped, Annabeth currently lifting him up and away. That was good. They were...successful. The mission was successful.
"Shit, shit!" Now, Leo is dumping his belt upside down, measuring tapes and nails and various tools dropping- but nothing that could cut through the thick links. His hands find a pair of scissors, quickly snatching them up and slotting his fingers through.
One of the giants swings hard at Hazel, nearly swiping her off her feet. She's quick- able to dodge, but the attack still sends her stumbling.
A soft pressure at the back of his head- fingertips- bow him forward, darting Hazel out of Jason's sight. For a second, the pressure tightens. A presence works against the thick straps with hasty, struggling chops that graze his skull and steal blond wisps of hair alongside leather.
"Almost- almost, there!" Leo exclaims triumphantly, the metal cage toppling to the ground with a stinging clatter.
Slowly, Jason reaches his claws hands to his face, runs the pads of his fingers over the indents the bars left. A weight has been lifted from his face, freeing, and yet...it feels as if he's missing something. A choked sob etches its way out of his body.
His hands are red like bitter reminders and his mouth is coppery like the lake he used to swim in, and he's being held so protectively and yet something is wrong and bad and he just can't place it.
He paws at his nose, now swollen and scraped of skin, raw under his touch. Jason whispers a thank you under his hands, hushed like a prayer.
Leo has already moved on, too busy spouting his own frantic noises to hear the voice against his skin. It wouldn't be long until the twins turned their attention to them- Hazel was wearing out and Annabeth was nearly gone already. Nico was slumped in her arms, cradled to her chest. Limbs hung loose and uncooperative.
Lifting out an arm, just barely- Jason reaches for them. It's a useless motion, honestly. The two are halfway across the cave, growing further by the second. Nevertheless, he reaches.
"Jace? Jason. Hey, stay here with me. We've got to get this off next. It might be hot, okay?" Rattling off words, one of Leo's only ways to cool down, he rambles his thought process along. Perhaps if he places one hand along Jason's neck, drawing out heat while the other melts the metal enough to drag it off? Risky, but solves the problem. Cutting a link far away? The best option, but leaves the trap to be dealt with later. All, and now? Or some, and later?
Jason doesn't mind what happens, honestly. He's content having these moments, clutched to Leo, voice drifting through his ears. He served his job- Nico is far, far away, and now...he can relax. Warmth creeps through his body by the contact points of Leo, an endearing heat. It's hot around his neck- not blistering, just hot- and then...the absence of heat. Not cold, not warm. Just absent.
Nothingness.
Leo draws away the steaming metal from his neck, bent molten hot, orange and glowing. A broken halo, a broken cage. He's careful about it, slow to drop it away for fear of burning Jason. His hand never waivers from its place on the nape of his neck, scratching absentmindedly.
"We've got to get out. You ready, Superman?"
Jason stares blankly. Feels the air against his throat, knows the release of pressure against his collarbones. Though he nods, there's a lack of understanding behind it. He's supposed to nod, he knows that.
Jason just didn't assume he'd get to this point.
Actually free again. Guess it didn't click until the restraints were off, that they'd care enough to keep him close. These people he's met only weeks before, bonded together over their perilous journey, who mean more than friends, more than family. They are Jason's whole world, tucked into a small group. What he wouldn't give for all of them to survive, to get out unscathed. Even if it meant leaving himself.
With the help of the other to stand, Jason immediately crushes Leo in a hug. His hands clamp against the material of his jacket, fabric bunching between his fingers. He's warm. Smells like earth and campfire, foamy dirt along his palms and grass in his hair. Leo smells of home, wet fur and pine sap marked across him like memories of a past life. Jason breathes in deep, feels fingers curl across his waist, hears the gentle whisper of his voice once again pushing them to leave.
He agrees.
<< ~ * * * ~ >>
Jason is....tired. The Argo || hums around him, a grounding white noise that can't help but annoy him. It's persistent through his skull, even with the blanket over his head. He feels like a child, sitting criss-crossed on the bed like he's learning a lesson from the legion. A familiar comfort, yet it isn't right. It's a feeling he's outgrown, making him feel weak in his larger stature and worn eyes, body scarred by his titles.
He runs a hand over the wounds on his face, hissing at the abrasions that are sure to leave marks. His fingers no longer come back red, but slick with an aromatic salve and salty tears. They still haven't stopped, no matter how much he tries. Acknowledging them only seems to grow persistence, so he doesn't. Jason lets them flow, catching below his chin as they drip into his lap.
A knock cuts through the humming, the dripping, the sting. It waits. It turns into the twist of a doorknob. It waits more.
It pulls up the edge of the blanket, wisps of hazy smoke that don't seem to meet at the edges, but feel as if they should. Bleary, forgotten.
Remembered?
It slunk underneath, dropped the quilted fabric over its own small body, sinking them back into muted comfort. Jason stares at the small boy in front of him, clutches his hands tighter in his lap. Scared that if he doesn't, he might just end up reaching out. Instead, Jason studies him with his eyes. Sees how he slumps over, eyes gloomy and soft but never daring to look up. The boy hung weighted down, weary, a heavy presence hanging over him. Something more than exhaustion.
Grief, perhaps. Jason could practically smell it rolling off of him in thick waves, how it clung to his clothes and tugged down his hair. How it left him terrified to lean to others...and yet here he was. Leaning.
It's quiet. Not uncomfortably so. The two sit, heads bowed, hands straining to not connect. They wait.
A soft breath. "Hi." Jason.
An echo. "Hi." Nico.
"Are you...okay?" Always caring. Always looking out for the rest of his pack.
"Just tired." It's evident in his voice, how the words blur and melt together, how his head dips and sways with each attempt to stay conscious. "I don't want to go back to sleep."
"I know. I'm not going to make you." Jason figures it'll happen soon enough anyways, if he can manage to keep the other here. Tucked away in the dark, warm and covered and besides another.
After a short pause- one that both fears the other will leave during- Nico tucks himself closer. His body seems to crumple, no longer able to pull himself up, hold himself tall. "What're you doing under here, anyways?" He mumbles, pinching the blanket between his fingers, toying with the blue texture.
"I don't know. I like being covered. Feels small, blocks out everything else. Everything else is out there, and I'm...in here. With you."
"I can leave." Nico whispers, stilling. He hadn't meant to interrupt, hadn't meant to disturb Jason. He thought-
He thought that if someone thought he was worth saving, then maybe they thought he was worth knowing.
-it didn't matter what he thought. He should go.
"No!" Jason startles at the thought, hand finally reaching out to clutch at the shoulder across from him. It's cold under his touch like shifting winds, as if he grasps too hard, it'll dissolve under his touch. "It's okay. I- You can stay."
As if to prove his point, Jason extends an arm, hesitantly ushering him closer. Waits patiently for the other to scoot over, eyes staring but not really looking. Seeing, but only for invisible intentions.
He wraps him in a hug. The blanket drapes heavy without a second head to support it, tucked instead into the chest of another.
He's so light, Jason worries as he holds tightly to Nico, who melts eagerly into the touch as if it's familiar. As if Jason is familiar.
The son of Zeus feels it, too. That stranded feeling, of being different. Of being held to a standard, to step into shoes they were never meant to fill. Of being too much, being born too big for their bodies to handle.
Nico is smoke and mirrors and ghostly visions, a spirit begging to be noticed. He's the warmth in a strange house's corner, providing any comfort he can in the eeriness of unfamiliarity. Old, loved books and the sound of your own heartbeat within your chest, deep and resonant and frail. Nico is the fragility of life and the opportunity of death, balanced between the two but never quite fit for either.
He is tired, but he will grow to measure the two as a scale, a tightrope holding taunt.
Jason is wind and wildfires and foggy mornings, a figure twisting between trees just beyond your view. He's the raised hair just before a strike of lightning, instantaneous and sharp, the call of a warning just before danger. Tired, worn cemetery statues damp with moss and sliding condensation, the forest holding its breath until it may rest. Jason is the vast emptiness of a rainy sky and the unrest of a wild creature, fighting between the sky and ground like his body will tear if he can't decide.
He is split, but he will learn to weave his fraying ends in, a tapestry of choices.
They hold tight to one another for a long while, enough for their legs to sting and their backs to ache. Long enough for Nico's eyes to droop, his breathing now even and fingers slipping. Although Jason wanted nothing more than to stay awake, stay guarding the one he fought so hard to save, it was a fight in itself just to stay alert. He could feel himself slipping into the retreat of darkness.
Maybe...maybe just for a moment. Jason could close his eyes for just a moment.
A moment that would turn to minutes, to hours. A much needed rest from...everything. From the world. From himself. From everything but the small person settled deep within his chest, his own little self tucked away, and from the boy resting against him, finally safe in his arms.
Two kids forced to grow up too fast, finally free within one another's presence.