Just a piece of writing I came up with while feeling pessimistic. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Me no own.

Missed

Certain perks came with certain things. Hazel hadn't experienced it much in the real world, where her life had basically been Styx after Styx after Styx, but in the Underworld things were different. She was the dream version of her seven-year-old self; a princess. She wasn't confined to Elysium. She could wander Asphodel and Elysium as she wished, walk to the Isles of the Blest for a day, attend a party there; stroll in her stepmother's gardens (although why she'd want to do that, Hazel had no idea). She could visit the cave where Hypnos slept and try and get decent company out of him, try to comfort the people sailing on the River Styx in a way Charon couldn't and wouldn't, talk to Trivia the magic goddess, Thanatos, or any other god who happened to be around. She saw Mercury sometimes, passing by to deliver messages or souls.

But Hazel's favourite part was the observatory.

Pluto had suggested it so he wasn't completely out of it when it came to the mortal world, Minerva had patented it from the design of and Ancient Egyptian relic of some sort, and Vulcan had built it. It was the only part of the palace where Hazel was allowed to go uninvited, a balcony outside the dining room with gleaming gold railing and a bowl with a huge diameter, filled with liquid that could come from the River Lethe as much as it could be from a can of soda. Hazel had determined that it was some kind of chemical mix. Hazel often climbed up from the fire escape-like staircase to go to it- either to see the whole Underworld all in one picture or to use the bowl, most often the later. The ladder shook under her but she was never scared to go up. She was already dead anyways.

By writing down the place or person you wanted to see on a scroll that seemed older than most of the gods, the bowl activated. You looked in and saw what you'd written down, so you had to be specific. Once she'd written down 'Praetors of Rome' and gotten the view of a museum's hallway where big dangling banners with proud Romans wearing purple capes were displayed.

She took the pen in her fingers and drummed it on the parchment's table. Who did she want to see first?

She decided to make her usual rounds and started with Nico. She wrote down his name, got down on her knees, and wiped the sweat off her hands by reflex. She didn't sweat anymore; she didn't have a body to sweat from. Old habits die hard, she supposed. And if she did have a body, she'd be sweating like a pig.

The liquid shimmered and showed her a picture, like a fluidic television screen.

She saw her brother standing outside a club, pressed against the brick wall. He'd grown a lot, long and wiry as always, but muscles had grown onto his arms. Hazel had missed that part of her brother's life, when he went from zero to hero and hit a growth spurt. His dark hair fell in his eyes, and he was still wearing the damn aviator jacket.

"Yo Hell on Wheels," Someone called. At first, every time that happened, Hazel looked over her shoulder to see who talked. The sound was so real, like those 'surround sound stereos' or whatever it was Leo had been spazzing about onboard the Argo II. Hazel forgot.

Nico turned his head as a girl walked up to him, wearing a long and baggy grey hoody, worn dark jeans with some interesting green stains, and converses with graffiti on every square inch. Her brown hair looked lighter than feathers and she had a beautiful and sneaky smile, with pointy ears and upturned eyebrows. Nico smiled when he saw her.

"Hey," he said.

"You look so freaking depressed right there, what the heck is that, who died? Have I missed something in the last five hours of which I haven't been at Camp?"

"No," Nico promised.

"Well then aren't you glad you get to spend an illustrious night in my presence?"

"I am thrilled," Nico promised.

"Good." She softened up. "Look, I know that today isn't a good day for you…"

"Stop Ollie, please, I'm okay." Nico said. "I don't get stuck in the past."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Olivia Jane Grey, I am sure as Hades."

"You're lying to me."

"Of course I am, but I lie to a lot of people. Don't worry, I'm not going to ruin your Friday night. And I'm okay."

"Good. Now if you're so sure that you're okay, stop acting like a freaking Goth who was beaten as a child and let's go, or we'll miss the movie." She said. He shook his head and took her hand.

"You'll be the end of me," he said.

"Well then you'll die happy." Olivia replied.

Hazel smiled and pressed a finger to the bowl, to give Nico some privacy on his date.

She wrote the next names on her list down.

The first thing she recognised was the park in New Rome. The big blue slide that legionnaires dared each other to go backwards off and that the kids in New Rome didn't dare approach was a major landmark. The picnic tables seemed to have been replaced, there was less carvings like 'JULES 3 AURELIA'. The trees that'd just been planted when she'd arrived were bigger, and people were sitting on the grass casually, chasing their kids, perched on the top of structures or the edges of fountain. Except for the two people who insisted on sword fighting even if it was a calm and peaceful Sunday.

Jason's sword swung in the air and blocked Reyna's, who spun out of the way and stroke again, this time catching his sword hand. He dropped his sword and Reyna jumped, her foot kicking it aside as she landed. She marched Jason up to a tree, her sword at his throat.

"Any last words, Grace?" She joked.

"Tell my wife I love her," Jason said. Reyna smiled.

"And where may I find this wife of yours?" She kid. Jason outstretched his arms and reeled her into them.

"In my arms," he said kissing her cheek. Reyna let herself relax in his arms, thoughtful for a second.

"It's thirteen years today, and that's why you're quieter than usual." She said. "That's what you're thinking about, and that's what's bugging you, isn't it?"

Jason leaned back against the tree and Reyna made it out of his grip. She tilted his chin up.

"You don't need to tell me, I know you well enough." She said. "Besides, I knew it when I woke up too."

Hazel cut that scene too and wrote down the next name.

Leo was in some kind of garage workshop; tools hanging on the walls. Hazel hadn't even known there were that many different kinds of screwdrivers. A plank of wood was lied down on a table and he was measuring and sawing through, measuring and sawing through. Safety glasses were pressed against his nose and there was a tool belt at his waist.

"So not only you spend the whole week tinkering in planes for the army," a voice said. "But you must spend the weekend tinkering too." Leo's saw sliced through the wood and he looked up.

"This is not tinkering," he declared. "It is carpentry. For a dog. A very large dog, but what do you want; Mrs. O'Leary can't stay in the stables forever seeing as the herd of wild Pegasus's coming in."

Herd of Pegasi coming in? Oh, Hazel was jealous; she'd love to see that.

"I suppose," the newcomer said.

"How'd you even get in here, Nyssa?" Leo asked.

"Marley opened the door for me. You might want to teach your foster kids about opening the doors to strangers."

"You're not a stranger, you're my sister." Leo said. "But I should teach them to keep you out. Just go easy on me; she and Brendon are the first two kids that live with me in like, ever."

"They looked happy," Nyssa said. "They're probably just glad that the foster system didn't separate them. I'm sure you're doing a great job."

"Hopefully. Did you just come here to stalk me about Mrs. O'Leary's dog house?" Leo asked. "'Cause I'm not in a really great friendly/social butterfly-like mood today."

"No, actually, I've got news about Jake."

"This day's about to get worst for me, isn't it?" Leo said, looking pale.

Hazel didn't know who Jake was, and although she could watch these scenes for hours and hours usually, she knew that when one demigod had news about another demigod it was time to turn it off.

She wrote down 'Percy and Annabeth Jackson' next. She remembered the day she'd looked up 'Annabeth Chase' and panicked really, really hard when nothing had come up. Then two days later she realised that 'Annabeth Chase' was now 'Annabeth Chase-Jackson', hence why it hadn't worked.

The apartment was in New York, quite obviously. The curtains were drawn since all the way across the state from Jason and Reyna's sunny California, it was night time. Percy was bouncing a little girl, about two years old, on his knees and watching a kid's show with her. He looked like he'd gotten bored out of his mind three times over.

"If you're so much like your mother, why aren't you watching the Geography Channel or something? Nature channel even, at least they have animals and there's occasionally a cool takedown of a zebra or antelope or seal." Percy said.

"Shh dada!" The girl protested. "TV playing." She insisted.

"Sorry Cass," he said.

"Is she making you watch that show with the birds again?" Someone asked. Percy looked over the couch and at the kitchen table where Annabeth sat with blueprints, an open laptop in front of her and a glass of tomato juice with a lemon wedge in it (which completely and profoundly confused Hazel) in front of her. He mouthed 'help me'. She grinned and got up, which is when Hazel saw that her baby bump had gotten much bigger than last time Hazel had been at the observatory. She sat next to them and pulled the little girl off Percy's lap and onto her own.

"Hey sweetheart, do you know what you should do right now?"

"Watch TV," she said.

"No," Annabeth said. "I think you should go pick out a storybook for Mommy to read you."

The little girl thought about it for a second, her head cocking to the side, and then nodded.

"Alright and make sure it's your absolute, absolute favourite." Annabeth said. Cassandra Chase-Jackson jumped off the couch and ran off to her room. Percy grabbed the remote, turned off the television with the same speed as if he were unplugging a bomb, and pulled Annabeth closer to him and she dropped her head on his shoulder.

"She'll be wondering which book's her favourite for the next two hours," Percy said.

"That was the point Seaweed Brain; I don't feel like reading to her any more than you do." Annabeth said. Percy grinned.

"And then it'll be bedtime…" Percy shook his head. "You're such a master mind; the poor child's got no chance."

"Just you wait," Annabeth said. "One day she'll be leading you into traps, you should take advantage of it now. Well, both of them." Her hands reached her stomach and Percy kissed the top of her head and laid a hand above hers.

"You wanted to talk about baby names, that's why you sent her to busy-land for two hours." Percy said.

Annabeth looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You've got the same look on your face as before Cassandra was born," Percy shrugged. "I remember. Also why I bought marshmallows today, even if it wasn't on the grocery list."

"I love you," Annabeth said with a smile that quickly faded. "I know we'd agreed on Hazel as a middle name, but I can't go around and call my little girl Hazel, that's just…"

"Yeah, I know." Percy said snuggling up with her, resting his chin on her head. "Too sad to remember," he said softly.

Hazel put her fist to her mouth and bit down. If she could cry, she would cry. Her eyes would pour like clouds in a storm. They were going to name their little girl after her? After a girl who'd died thirteen years ago?

That's when Cass came stomping back, empty handed. She was a really cute little girl with dark hair put into two braids, and she kept shifting her weight around even if her eyes were always centered on what she was looking at.

"Hey darling, you forgot your story book." Percy said.

"It's 'cause I want a story from your head not a book." Cass said.

"A story from my head?" Percy asked. Cass nodded.

"Okay," he said. "Umm… Come here." He said. She curled up on the other side of him and looked up expectantly, safe and sound with his arm wrapped around her.

"Okay, so when Uncle Jason and Aunt Reyna weren't married yet…" He started.

Hazel didn't want to hear the story, and so she cut the image again. She checked on a few people. Gwen and Dakota who were living in an apartment complex exactly between the New Rome School where Gwen taught and the Museum of Modern Mythology that Dakota founded and directed, happy with their three kids. Tyson and Ella seemed to vagabond around places, but right now they were happy at Camp Half-Blood. Octavian was out of Rome and owning a company that sold computers, working too hard for his own good not that Hazel cared much. Jacob the standard barrier was giving a tour in a museum, pausing to look at the relic Aquila of the fifth legion nostalgically for a second before carrying on.

She ran out of people and finally had to write down the name she wanted to see more than anything, but wanted to avoid just as much. Pain was much more real when you looked at the blade sticking from your side.

Frank Zhang

The scene shifted into a cemetery and Hazel completely panicked. It was New Rome's cemetery- the place where the dead legionnaires were given head stones. No way… No way Frank had- since the last time she'd- he…

She was nearly hyperventilating and screaming when he stepped into view. Hazel sighed in relief and her heart skipped a beat. It'd done that every time she'd seen him when she was thirteen, but since then… God, since then Frank had grown into himself. Maybe the fact he knew he could change shape at will made him more comfortable to stick with one. Either way, he looked more confident now. And he looked strong- not just big and broad shouldered, he was muscled. His face hadn't lost much of the baby look to it, but he looked more composed now. Older too, and not just physically. There was something in his almond shaped eyes that belonged in the eyes of a man that had lived through too much too quickly. He was wearing green camouflage and a cap, a backpack over his shoulder. The Canadian flag was sewn onto the sleeve of his jacket.

"17, 13, 13," he muttered looking around.

Block 17, row 13, plot 13; Hazel knew what it stood for, as if they shared a secret code. Her heart tightened.

Frank walked through the cemetery, navigating it like an experienced sailor navigated familiar sea. He stopped in front of 17/13/13 and knelt to get a better look at the words he and Hazel both knew he had memorised.

Hazel Levesque

August 5th 2010

5th Cohort, 1 year of service, Daughter of Pluto

War of Gaia

Frank let out a long breath Hazel hadn't realised he'd been holding.

"God Hazel, that was really thirteen years ago…" He said. He got back up and kept his eyes froze on the tombstone, unmoving and focused. Hazel didn't know what they were focused on. He knew it all- every single thing written on that tombstone, and more. He knew her name, he knew her cohort, he knew her last battle, and he'd been there when she'd died.

"Frank," someone said. Frank turned around and a beautiful woman with skin the colour of leather, braided hair and clothes like a hiker walked up to him.

"How did you know I was here, I don't live in New Rome." He said. "Wait, nor do you, what are you even doing here?"

"Arion wasn't in the stables at Camp this morning and I was spending the day there. Chiron sent me to get you and I was going to come ask the praetors here what was going on, maybe visit Rey and Jason and a few people… but I figured he'd gone to get you."

"I was walking back home and he cornered me, and brought me here. He knew I wanted to be here." Frank said. "How did you get to California anyways?"

"Please, my boyfriend's a child of Hermes and my charmspeaking's gotten a lot better. I can get around if I want to get around." Piper said. She put a hand on Frank's arm. "You okay?"

"'Course not," Frank said. He looked at the headstone. "People keep telling me it'll get better with time. Thirteen years is a lot of time, and things haven't gotten better."

Piper's grip on his arm got tighter. "I'm sorry, Frank."

"Everyone got over their losses. You found someone other than Jason, Annabeth's stopped crying for her brother, same for Jason's sister, but here I am. Still standing at a grave every August 5th unable to let go. Even her horse knows that I've still got my head stuck at thirteen years ago. It feels pathetic."

"How is that pathetic?" Piper said. "That was a nasty war, with nasty losses and nasty things happening to good people. Nobody's over it, nobody's free of nightmares except the dead or the dead inside. You just remember Hazel more vividly than others and that's really sweet of you, even if she wouldn't want it."

"Hazel didn't know what she wanted; she never got the chance to live enough to even think about more than survival." Frank said bitterly.

"Hazel wanted you," Piper said. "I know that doesn't help right now, but don't you forget it." Frank took his cap off and ducked his head back, grabbing a fist-full of hair. His eyes were shut tight but no barrier was tight enough to stop tears from coming.

"I hate it. I hate wanting her to be back so bad and I hate knowing that she'll never be. I hate still thinking of how she looked when she was smiling or riding Arion or the colour of her eyes, hair, skin… I hate remembering her, but I'd hate forgetting her even more." He said. Hazel had only seen Frank cry once and that was as her soul was taken back to the Underworld, the details were incredibly blurry and she'd spent hours wondering if he'd really cried or if her brain had been fevered. This would stay crystal clear in her mind forever. Piper got closer tentatively, and hugged him, getting on her toes to do so.

"You're okay, Frank." Piper said. "You just don't know it yet."

Hazel couldn't bear to watch him cry. Frank had always, always been her safety. The one to comfort her when the world was rock hard and ice cold, the arms in which she'd hid from it all, the one who shooed the clouds away. She couldn't help but feel responsible for his crying- and each tear rolling down his cheek felt like a different knife in her chest. She'd destroyed her own solidity, like some kind of suicide bomber.

Her shaking fingers touched the water and broke that scene too. She leaned over the bowl, a hand on either side, thinking she might throw up in it. Finally she realised she couldn't throw up, she didn't have breathing to calm down, and she straightened up.

"I thought I'd find you out here," she heard someone say. She didn't turn around; thirteen years was plenty of time for her to learn to recognise her father's voice when it reached her ears.

"Father," she said softly, not looking away from the bowl. He stood at the railing next to her.

"You look preoccupied Hazel. More than you do on a usual Death Day." Pluto said. Hazel's eyes didn't part from the bowl where she'd seen all these things that haunted her mind like the ghosts that'd gotten her while she walked the earth.

"You've seen the Zhang boy, haven't you?" He guessed.

"Frank, Father, Frank. And yes, I have." She said.

"You've never realised how loved you were before now, have you?" Pluto said, his pale and cold-looking fingers touching the surface. Circles expanded from the point where his fingers touched.

"I knew they cared. I knew Frank… But I didn't think that…" Hazel couldn't find the right words to fill in the blanks. It was like trying to resume a Picasso painting in a word. You couldn't. There were too many colours, shapes, patterns, lines, differences, senseless things, and moods all in one frame.

"You're loved," Pluto said. "You were always loved. And now you are missed. You will always be missed."

Hazel's eyes stung with tears that wouldn't and couldn't come, but burned anyways. Some things in life couldn't be, but were so they could be there to hurt.

"I've died twice, but I've only been missed once." Hazel said. "I used to consider it a burden, or a curse. But now I think that it's a blessing."