Chapter Text
To say that Jason was confused would be an understatement. Two minutes ago, he'd been high in the sky above Camp Half-Blood, holding Piper as they tried to put Gaea back to sleep. Now, he was sitting in his bunk in the Fifth Cohort barracks in Camp Jupiter.
He recognized all of the people around him – some that he knew had died in the assault on Mount Othrys.
They all looked very young.
He had a sneaking suspicion that something was wrong.
He got up. He'd never been the sneakiest person ever, and being in a body that was too small, too weak, didn't help, but somehow he managed to get out of the barrack without anyone waking up.
The night was quiet, the shops along the Via Pretoria closed. There was no one wandering the streets, and Jason wondered what time it was.
He stopped at the Pretorian Gate, looking down over the valley. The city was as it always was at night: glowing, filled with young people going about with their friends. The temples sat pristine on their hill. The Little Tiber flowed merrily across the gap, into the lake.
Everything was peaceful. Everything was normal.
Except, it shouldn't have been.
All of these people – the ones that weren't dead, that is – should be halfway across the country, in the middle of a losing battle.
"Jason?" called a very, very familiar voice, one that he hadn't really expected to hear again, not after its owner had, according to Nico, accidentally launched himself into the air with onager-loads of unstable Imperial gold.
Jason turned. Octavian stood maybe five feet away from him, wearing a Camp Jupiter T-shirt and basketball shorts. Like everyone else Jason had seen, he looked . . . young, about fourteen instead of the eighteen he should have been.
"Are you okay, Jason?" Octavian asked. He looked almost concerned, which was odd. Jason didn't remember there ever being a time when Octavian was interested in him in any way except political. "You're not usually one to wander about in the middle of the night."
"I just couldn't sleep. Odd dreams, you know," Jason said.
"Hmm." Octavian narrowed his eyes at him. "Anything interesting?"
"Why do you care?" Fuck. Despite popular belief, Jason was fairly smart. He could see what was going on. Somehow, he'd traveled back in time. This was a different Octavian than he was used to, and he shouldn't treat this 14-year-old like the almost-adult who had started a war.
Octavian just raised an eyebrow. "We're demigods, Jason. Our dreams are never just normal. I'm the augur. If you saw something of the future, I should know."
He was the augur. He could see the future, at least a bit. He knew the prophecies.
He was probably the only person Jason had any hope of convincing of time travel.
"Actually, Octavian, I did see something." Jason took a deep breath. No going back now. "And I'll tell you if you help me with something.
-
"Where are you going, Leo?"
He froze. Oscar was standing behind him, with a curious look on his face.
"San Francisco," he answered. Camp Jupiter would be good enough. It'd keep the monsters away, and Jason was there. Leo could deal with the whole 'discipline' thing for that.
"Why?" Oscar asked, letting himself fall onto Leo's bed.
"Because," he said, just this side of snappy. Oscar narrowed his eyes at him.
"Does this have something to do with that one-eyed giant we saw last week?" Oscar asked. He said it like he was trying to be subtle, but Leo had met a lot of tricky people in the years since he'd known Oscar. He had nothing on fourteen-year-old Connor Stoll.
Leo honestly didn't know what Oscar was talking about. The Gutierrez's had been four years ago, and Oscar had never approached him about seeing any monsters then.
"Uh, yeah. Kinda." But, well. It was easier than explaining time travel and everything that had happened in the last four years.
"So, where are we going?" He was still trying to be subtle. Nonchalant. Like that sentence wouldn't cause Leo to have a stroke.
Leo turned to face Oscar where he was flopped on the bed. "You can't come with me, Oscar. You're family's here."
"So? They suck. And I saw a fricking Cyclops last week, man. I want to know what's going on."
Leo squinted at him. As far as he knew, the Gutierrezes were Oscar's actual parents, which means that he couldn't be a demigod or a monster. He could be a clear sighted mortal, though, like Rachel Dare, the Oracle at Camp Half-Blood.
"It's going to be very dangerous," Leo warned.
"Cool!" Was all Oscar said, well and truly a preteen boy.
-
Annabeth hesitated at the door to the Hermes cabin. It wasn't a good idea, seeing as she only had so long until the harpies noticed her.
But she didn't know what she would do when she saw them. She didn't know exactly how old she was, but she didn't have the scar on her hand that she'd gotten the summer of the Bolt quest, which meant it was before then. Which meant Luke was still here.
Which meant that Chris and Travis were still young, unburdened by years of pain and war. Which meant that Connor and Shawn hadn't lost the youthful belief that their big brothers could fix all problems.
Luke hadn't given his sanity, body, and life for a mad Titan bent on destroying the world. He wasn't the bitter, broken man she'd watched bleed out in the Olympian throne room.
And she'd be damned if she let him be.
She opened the door.
The Hermes cabin was as it always was: run-down and crowded. Most people were sound asleep, but Chris was awake, sitting on a bunk in the corner.
"Annabeth? What's wrong?" he asked.
She didn't answer, just snuck between the kids on the floor to sit next to him. They were on Luke's bunk, she realized. His sword – his old one, not Backbiter – was propped up against the side, and photos of her, Luke, and Thalia, along with ones he'd gotten from Mrs. Stoll, were taped to the wall. Luke himself was nowhere to be seen.
"Where is he?" she asked.
Chris sighed. "He left, just a few minutes ago. Said that he'd just gotten news about his mother."
What? Annabeth knew that Luke hadn't left camp last time, and she didn't think anything had happened to his mother. She'd seemed exactly the same as she'd been when Annabeth was seven when she, Percy, and Hermes went to tell her about Luke's death.
"He somehow managed to tell me that without giving me any details about anything," Chris continued, exasperated but fond. "But hey, what's with you?"
Annabeth sighed. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Chris said with a frown. "Did someone do something to you? Because I promise that I will believe you, Annabeth. You know that."
"I do know that, Chris. But this is different." She picked at the edge of Luke's blanket – an old and worn one, that Annabeth was pretty sure Thalia had stolen for him.
"Do you want to tell me?" he asked. "You don't have to."
She hesitated. She did want to tell him, she really did. She couldn't let things go as they had last time.
But Chris was still so young. She didn't want to burden him with this.
"Maybe not right now." she said. "But you'll tell me if he comes back?"
"Course, 'Beth." Chris said, smiling at her. "Now get back to your cabin before the harpies come."