DISCLAIMER: Guess what.

Rick still owns PJatO.

oOo

The notes sang out and my fingers moved with them and my bow danced nimbly across the strings, all in a perfect unity. I'd only seen such teamwork among myself and my comrades in battle, and that just between my family and I. Plus Ethan.

The song faded nicely into silence, my fingers and body working perfectly with the decrescendo as if it wasn't there at all.

I stayed poised with my instrument for several seconds after the song had completely departed, knowing that's what you did. Be it out of respect or for the sake of the sound or only in an attempt to create a dramatic effect, that's what you did.

Then I dropped my violin into rest position beneath my arm and gave Mr. Banks a questioning glance.

He clapped and glared at the other students until they went along. "Very nice, Bree. That's a nice grade to end the semester on."

I breathed a sigh of relief and strode for the bleachers and my open violin case, set the instrument down, loosened the bow hairs and put it carefully in its place. Then I grabbed the violin again and wrestled with the shoulder rest.

A good grade. And Mr. Banks's approval. That's all I'd dared hope for. I wasn't sure if the other students enjoyed listening to Viva la Vida on strings as I did, but it didn't matter.

As I shut the case and zipped it tight, I caught Natalie's piercing gaze. "May I help you with something?"

She scowled at my violin. "Your C sharp is too sharp. Quit exaggerating it, and you'll do loads better."

I paused, tapping my fingers on my knee, playing out the song. "…Huh. Didn't notice. I'll keep that in mind. …Thanks."

She sniffed and looked away.

The journey home was short and peaceful. My sisters talked while I reflected on my last day in music class. When Christmas break was over, I'd have art instead. No more Mr. Banks, no more guitars, no more chords, no more keyboards. No longer sneaking in my violin to play until I got my grades high enough for the orchestra and the class change got approved.

Oh, well. I'd have him for one more year before moving to the high school.

At home I grabbed some microwavable packages of ravioli and fed Sylvester. Then I headed for the kitchen to say bye.

Granny was, of course, waiting for me. She put on a coat and wound a scarf around my throat before stepping back to examine her work. Then she stepped in and gave me gloves.

"Granny. It's LA."

"I know, I know! But the freak snowstorms are everywhere now, not just here! You have to keep warm!" she exclaimed.

I sighed. LA was about as likely to get snow as Kronos was to grieve for Ethan, but Granny has this way of… getting her way.

It's the eyes that does it, I think.

Nearby, Moon was talking to the Seeing Eye Dog. "Car," she said.

"Rar," Antonio mimicked, wagging his tail happily.

She sighed and hung her head. "Hopelessness. Hopelessness!"

I chuckled. "Hang in there."

Hunter chose then to walk in. "Oh. Going to Antarctica, Bree? Bring some penguins back. I like penguins."

I sighed. "No, but close. LA."

"Pity. I do like penguins," she smiled. "You look kinda cute all bundled up."

The insult was unforgivable. I yelled about her looking 'kinda cute' when I'd finished beating her for that, but the crowded kitchen held no space to run. She escaped out the door with nothing more but "Call him Dandelion for me!" over her shoulder as she bolted.

I sighed. "Anyway. I'm staying late tonight. If it's too late, I might crash there and come back in the morning."

Granny sighed. "Alright. Be careful, you hear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I ran for the shadows.

No sooner had I reached the funeral home did I ditch the crazy weather gear. Nico was ready and smirking when I got there.

"Don't," I growled, pointing at him as I tossed the coat aside, "say a word."

"No? Wouldn't Granny be interested to know-"

"She'd probably kill the bearer of bad news, so no, I don't think she'd be interested."

He chuckled. "Well. We'll eat and spend a few hours reviewing. When night falls, we'll start. Are you ready?"

"No," I mumbled miserably.

"Perfect," he said, flashing that crazy grin. Then he disappeared into the kitchen. I grabbed the two microwave raviolis and followed.

Night fell too quickly. The city's noises grew louder and the windows changed from shedding the crystal clear solar shine to the harsh, yellow glares of streetlights. Someone down the street was rocking out to some serious beat box classics.

Nico stood and glanced out the window. "The sun's set. We're clear."

"…Won't the light from the city…?"

"The backyard is sheltered. No light falls there," he assured me. "Though a few more minutes won't kill us. How's Întuneric's memories?"

"Geez. Overload. It's old," I muttered, fingering my eraser. "It's killed so many."

"A sword is of course stronger than a man," Nico agreed. "It stands to reason that it's old."

"I still can't believe Kronos didn't tamper with it or anything. How odd is that?"

He shrugged. "How are the memories?"

"Sad. Horrible. Humbling. It makes me feel guilty."

"Then the sword's doing its job."

"You still haven't explained this all the way."

"I will tonight. It's closely tied with this lesson."

I swallowed thickly at the thought of the scheduled events. "…Right."

He glanced out the kitchen window again. "Alright. Come on. I've already dug a hole." He grabbed an untouched six-pack of root beer, a kids' meal from McDonalds, and flicked out the lights as he left out the back door.

Still haunted by that stoic funeral home in the dark, I followed quickly.

In the darkest corner of the back yard, not far from an old and dead tree towards the back, was a hole. Rectangular, long enough to hold a person, and six feet deep. Standard proportions.

I stepped around the seam Gaea had made in the ground and met Nico at the edge of the grave. "So… No animal blood?"

"No. That was what they did in ancient times. I like to show a little more respect," he said, handing me the foot. "Go ahead and toss it in. Don't talk when you do. When you're done, start the chant, just like I taught you."

"He might not show up, right?" I asked, grasping at strings now. The meal's paper crinkled in my tense fists.

"He has that choice, but he's clever. I think he'll understand what's going on."

I sighed and stared into the grave. The dark shadows within were strangely inviting.

"Did he have any preferences?" Nico asked, coaxing me into starting.

I thought, then shook my head. "Not really. He just liked food, was grateful to have it. Though after a dare from Hunter he lost his fondness for pickles." I took the burger out of the meal and tossed the little green slices aside.

I found myself staring at the grave again, breathing deeply.

"Go on," Nico said. "I'll be right here."

I closed my eyes, let out a breath, and began emptying the meal into the grave.

Next was the root beer. Every last can. Then I began to chant. The first half of the spell was familiar; the very same I'd used to heat blood, with a few creative sentences added in there.

In the grave, the root beer began to boil and froth and rise. As if it were expanding and filling the space. French fries and burger buns floated haphazardly on the surface.

The second half of the spell was the new part. Since he'd first revealed it to me nearly two months ago in the clearing where we'd fought Laelaps, as a backup just in case he did die, I'd practiced it time and time again. It was not wise to mess these incantations up.

Energy began to spark. I could feel it swelling in my chest. Around me, voices began to whisper. The sounds of the city quieted.

I still chanted, waiting. No crowd gathered like Nico had said they would. Perhaps the Underworld still wouldn't let spirits out.

Then I saw something.

A telltale blue blur, a wavering stain, standing next to the grave. I'd have missed it if my eyes were any less sharp.

Behind me, the raven was smiling.

A cold, wondrous taste filled my tongue. Yet nothing touched my mind. His thoughts were sealed and hidden well. It was tantalizing, being so close yet so far…

The blue smudge did not clear until the taste faded from my mouth. Mist curled around itself and twisted and condensed, forcing itself into shapes, something so peaceful morphing into nothing short of horror. Horror and awe.

By the grave, still liking French fry salt off his fingers, was a transparent image of Ethan.

"Not bad." The voice spoke aloud, from lips that moved. Not in my mind. Not in the thought language. Nico had warned me that the summoning would be different, but… I hadn't expected him to look so…

…Alive…

Slowly, Ethan stood, shaking his hair out of his eyes as if having trouble seeing. Sure enough, the next thing he did was examine a hand before him. A familiar expression of feigned interest etched itself into his face.

I shuffled nervously, the chant dying on my lips.

He sighed and let his hand fall to his side. His one eye met Nico's. A soft, gentle nod was visible. Then that green eye slowly slid to me.

Ethan appeared to draw in a breath and step back a little, as if he was dreading something.

"…E… Ethan…" I stammered. I could still feel his sweaty hands in mine.

"Bree," he said sadly. "It's been a while."

"You don't look so bad," I managed, taking him in for the first time. Really looking. The eye patch was still in place on this holographic-like image, despite the real one having been burned with his shroud. He still wore the armor he'd died in over simple jeans and his sneakers and a purple Guard jacket flashing Kronos's clock-and-scythe symbol on the sleeve. There was a jagged hole in the side where a sliver of his sword Savior had pierced him. The nick on his arm even appeared to still be bleeding.

Well. This grisly image of him was better than what Nico had been responsible for cleaning up later that day.

The sight was painful. Like fire laced across my nerves. The gaping hole of grief opened in my chest again. Thoughts flowed in faster than I could realize them; the gun, his smile, his defiant look that day, Savior shattering on Kronos, his hand falling right out of mine, the dizziness of looking down that long drop after him…

If he'd been about to say more, he stopped when he saw me crying. "Bree. Please don't."

"Shut up," I snapped. "I'm entitled to. It's not… It hasn't been…."

He sighed and stepped forward, sharp jade eye locking on my gaze. "Bree. Look at me."

Ethan. I'd listen to anything that voice said. I looked up at him.

"Do you remember the Hecate kid?"

I sniffled and wiped my nose on my sleeve. "Yeah."

"Do you remember what you did to him? Toiling over his death?"

The thought hadn't occurred to me before. I blanched and stared at him.

"Yeah. Listen; you have to stop this. It's not healthy. Not for me and definitely not for you. Nor does it help that I have to see this every time I watch you."

"You don't understand," I mumbled. "It hasn't been the same. We don't have a beat to fight to anymore. I… And Brook… Brook was a mess at first. And it's not fair. You should've come back with us." My eyes squeezed shut. "We have what you fought for now. We have a home, people who care. You should be there with us."

"Bree."

"And Grandpa. He wants to play chess with you. None of us will try. And there's heights. I can't stand them anymore. They scare me. I freeze up and become completely useless. And Shay – Shay! She's a Titan's child. You'd love to hear about them. They're the next step in restoring balance. It's…. You should be here for it. You need to be. We can't do this without you. You shouldn't have died – it was my fault, anyway…"

"Bree, it wasn't your fault. Don't think that."

"But it was! I had you… Right there…"

"I made my choices. I decided my fate when I went to my mother and took the deal. I sculpted every single second of it, you hear? And I didn't go through it all just to watch you mope around like an idiot. Nor did Kyle or Herald or Brianna or even Bianca. My destiny was already decided. It never included coming home with you three. Merely making sure you had one to go to."

"But it's not fair!" I protested. "We need you alive!"

"No, you don't. You defeated Laelaps and Orpheus and the Manticore all on your own."

"No, it… Just…" Looking at him brought back the horrible image of Orpheus and his bloodied left side. "No! Don't say things like that!"

"I can and I will. I can only say things you know or suspect on your own, remember?"

"But… no! I don't think that! I haven't ever thought, for a single second, that it was okay! I've needed you every moment. As has Hunter. And Brook…"

I put my head in my hands and fought back a sob. It took everything I had to stop from trying to cling to him. Of course, made of mist, it'd never have worked anyway.

He waited.

The sob finally made it out. My legs were shaking dangerously; to steady them, I knelt down, and I cried.

When I looked up again, I saw him knelt before me, leaning down so he could find my eyes. "Listen to me. This has to stop. I'm where I'm meant to be. That is what happens; we live, we make it worthwhile, and we die. I wouldn't ask for anything more. So yeah, it sucks to be you. Deal with it. I taught you better than this."

"You still should be here," I muttered. "It's not fair that we lived on instead. It was your fight."

"Key word being was. And I won it."

"Won?!"

"Bree, there's nothing else I would've been happier to die for. So stop trying to pull me away. I'm perfectly fine here. I'm… Home. I'm home. I couldn't be any more content. And one day, hopefully a fair distance away, you'll find me down here waiting. It's not that big of a deal."

"It is to me."

"Bree. I. Am. Happy. Stop trying to ruin it. I know what it feels like, but it will pass. Leave me be. Please."

I stared up at him hopelessly, spreading my hands out between us. "How could you leave us?"

He smiled sadly. "I haven't. I still watch. You still have me. As does Brook. And Hunter." He grimaced at some unpleasant thought. "I haven't left any of you."

"Liar."

"Not a liar. What do you fight for, Bree? What did you fight for when you worked to defeat Kronos?"

"…The same things you did."

"Right. So I'm there. Where did that overhand cleave you pulled on Orpheus originate?"

"You."

"So I'm there, too. Where did the nameless idea come from?"

"…You."

"And so I'm there as well. Keep fighting, keep believing. And know I'll be waiting. You'll get the hang of it."

My whole body was shaking now, and the tears had ebbed. "…But…"

"That's all. Nothing more, Bree. This idea you had, bringing me back? It's stupid and reckless and selfish. And overkill. You don't need it. I'm still with you; in fact, I was never gone. So move along, alright?"

I sniffled. "I don't want to."

"Please? Try? For me? Listen, I can't stay here and talk for long."

His tone was a heavy weight on my chest. And his voice, such a painful memory… Why, why did he have to play that card… He knew I couldn't refuse…

"…Alright. I'll do my best. I swear on the Styx."

He smiled fondly. "There ya go. See, now you're already halfway there. Nico can help with the rest. Remember; I'll be waiting."

He sighed heavily as he stood. I watched, still processing things, as he met Nico's gaze. "…You should know. Orpheus was lying. Bianca's safe and sound. Nor has anybody discovered the ruins of the machine that killed her; the protection spell you've cast there works wonders."

To my shock, he began to fade.

My mouth opened to call him back. The words hung in my throat – No! Don't! Stay! We can figure out something! Just don't… Don't go…

But they went unsaid. I couldn't call him back. Instead I watched him fade away, right in front of me, falling all over again to a place I couldn't reach.

Silence hung over everything. The city held its breath and the root beer had stopped boiling. The crickets held a heartfelt vigil.

Slowly, in a daze, I stood. The grave looked as if it'd never been touched. I turned once, twice, searching the yard.

But no. He was gone.

I'll be waiting.

It was like losing him all over again. Tears found their way back to my eyes and I put my palms on my forehead, trying fruitlessly to blink them away.

A hand landed on my shoulder.

"Does it make sense now?"

"No. It doesn't," I spat, shaking my head.

He was quiet for a moment. "…Don't you remember what Orpheus said? About not looking back?"

"Too well," I muttered.

"He was right, Bree. There's nothing left but ashes now. Anything worth preserving of him in this world is in you. Not in him, not in his resurrection, but in you. Leave him at peace. That's what you do. As Children of the Underworld, we must set the example; just as demigods are the connection and division alike between mortals and myths, we are the connection and border between Dead and Living. Between past and future. Not him. Not the fallen. Us. We pick up and carry on, Bree. And we carry them with us. Just like our swords carry the people they've killed."

I stayed quiet. There was a song I'd listened to not long ago that'd said the same thing. I hadn't realized what it meant, though…

"Making the decision to try is half the battle," he said gently. "It's an uphill battle, yes, but you'll be all the stronger for it."

"Is that so?" I asked, taking my hands away. The tears still fell. I wiped at them angrily. "Then why do I still feel like this?"

He walked around me and stopped, studying the wet streaks on my face. With one careful hand, he reached out and, fingers on my jaw, wiped at a tear with his thumb. "That… The grief will last a long, long time. It's okay to cry now and then. It'll happen."

He took his hand away. "But if they did any good for the dead, there'd be no way for them to stop."

I sighed and nodded. "…Alright. Alright. I'll do my best."

He smiled and took me into a hug. The embrace didn't surprise me that much; it should've, but I didn't care right then. I leaned into him and squeezed, taking a long whiff of the leather on his jacket, desperate for something solid. Not water tears or rumbling emotions.

"You have us," Nico reasoned. "Hunter and Brook and me. Moon, if you need something to laugh at. It'll be alright in the end. I know it doesn't look like that, but you have to trust me."

Trust Nico. It was quite easy to trust him, actually. He never made promises he couldn't keep.

I pulled back and nodded, swiping the rest of the tears away. "Okay. I'm better now. …Thanks."

"No problem. So, did you plan on heading back, or do we have a little time to kill before bed? I've got another map of the stars downstairs."

"Ah. Did Phil draw this one again?" I smiled, turning slightly to one side. The makeshift grave was still hard to look at.

Nico frowned, for a moment puzzled by something that I couldn't see. "…No. No, actually. He stopped talking a while ago. I buried the skull."

Pleasant shock went through me. "Oh? When did this happen?"

"Couple days past." The look on his face held dreaded recognition; somewhere, I think he knew that he'd been imagining it.

Though I wasn't in a place to blame him.

"Well. Maybe we can finally leave him at peace, too."

"I hope so. Phil deserves it," Nico agreed. His gaze leveled to meet mine. "So those… Get down!"

I stifled a yelp as he crashed into me. We went tumbling into the grave, crashing at the bottom on something that felt far harder than dirt. I grunted and gasped at the air. Nico scrambled off me and drew his sword.

My shaking fingers found Întuneric and I stood, staring at the lip of the hole. I didn't like it down here. There was no way to see approaching threats. "What did you see?"

"The house," he whispered, holding a finger to his lips. That strange pulsing chill in the air began again, the silent language we'd spoken as shadows. "The lights are on and there's water running in the kitchen."

"You sure?" I rumbled back.

"Positive. Someone's inside. Stay here and watch the back door. I'll sneak around and ambush from the front of the house. Shadow travel in there and attack on my signal." He leapt, fingers gripping the lip of the grass, then ever so slowly eased himself up. One hard-trained eye was kept on the house. Sure enough, I could see the unnatural glint of yellow reflecting off his irises.

I waited ten seconds. Fifteen. Thirty. Then I peeked over the edge of the hole. Odd; it wasn't even wet, the soil…

Nothing stirred in the house. Light shone brightly through the window. Luckily, I could see no shadow there; whoever was inside hadn't been eavesdropping and definitely wouldn't have noticed our conversation's sudden halt.

A growl rose in my throat. That was my place. Nobody touched such a sacred place of rite, especially the rites of the dead, and got out of it alive.

My eyes narrowed. Not a single movement. I was tempted to bust out some of my supernatural senses, the ones Nico had just recently taught me, but withheld. I was to wait for his signal and then unleash hell. Nothing more, nothing less.

Still utter boredom.

I began to worry. Surely he'd made it to the front lawn by now? Had I missed the signal? Well, no… I'd hear a fight…

Dread filled me to my fingertips. I could not taste death – like I'd make that mistake again – but if they had him gagged or bound or unconscious, it'd explain everything…

Crawling much slower than he had, I slithered out of the grave, holding Întuneric close. The loyal blade hummed eagerly. It would avenge its friend Mνήμη happily if called to.

As I drew closer, flinching away from the light shining through the window, I heard faint voices from inside.

A visitor? No, he'd have called out the false alarm. Something was wrong.

I picked my way through the grass, along the house wall, edging closer to the door….

Footsteps. Two feet appeared blurry beyond the screen. The knob creaked as someone eased it open.

I held still, paralyzed and breathless. And barely remembering that the worst thing I could do was move.

Then I recognized Nico's boots. I groaned and stood, sheathing Întuneric. "Geez! Don't scare me like that! What… Nico?"

He had gone pale. His right hand shook as he ran it through his hair, eyes focused on some long and distant shore. A long breath eased out of him.

"Nico?"

He closed his eyes. "It was an Iris-Message. Apparently, they're back to working. At least emergency calls. Isis must've turned on the lights and let the broken sink loose to create a rainbow."

"…Oh. Who was it?"

"Annabeth." Haunted black eyes locked on mine, an alarming drunken aspect glazing over them.

"So it wasn't good news," I said flatly.

White Cheshire teeth beamed at me. "Well. That depends on how much you liked Percy. He's gone."

oOo

Nic: Dun dun dun…

Nyx: Well. It ain't Rebels, but it'll do.

Nic: Again, it's a filler novel. It's never going to be our best work.

Nyx: So, there it is. The cover will be up before we start book three. Give me two weeks, guys. That should be PLENTY of time. October Eighteenth is the date I'm looking at. The prologue will definitely be up by then. Same update days, same schedule. I've already begun the heavy-duty work on the first few chapters.

Nic: Thanks for reading with us, guys. It means a lot. Can't wait for the next one!

Nyx: You can get a glimpse of it on our profile. It shall be called… DRUM ROLL, please!

Nyx's Cat: *begins beating Nyx's latest read*

Nyx: *glowers*

Nic: Redeemable! It's called Redeemable, guys.

Nyx: That it is. Please do review and tell us how we've done on Rejects. We shall respond to all reviews in the prologue to Redeemable when it comes out, and every one is appreciated. We extend special thanks for those who encouraged us when things were slow.

Nic: Until the eighteenth, guys! *flourishing bow*

Nyx: *attempts to mimic and bangs head on desk*

Nic: *straightens, thrusts finger in the air* TO THE FRIDGE!

Nyx: *rubbing head* To the fridge!

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Nyx: Darnit! Out of stroganoff!

O.#