Chapter Text
all the kings horses and all the kings men couldn't put humpty together again.
Jason is--
And Nico is--
Alive.
And everything Jason is thinking and feeling and reacting to refuses to stay in that neat little box he tucked it in, and now is the absolute worst time to have a breakdown but he thinks that must be what this is.
Nico.
Alive. And the Winter Soldier, who killed Reyna, who Jason was mere yards away from this afternoon, who Jason could have caught if he was seconds faster, pounds lighter, weights stronger.
How is he supposed to feel about this?
He wishes someone would tell him. It would make everything a lot easier on him, being told what to do, because that was his role as a toy soldier; line up, shiny shoes, stiff collar, smile for the camera, and march march march. Be a good boy.
He’s not good; he’s just . . . wound up.
And--
Nico.
The name is a chant in his mind, so that he’s aware of little else. In his memory, he sees Nico fourteen and skinny, twelve and daring, sixteen and confident. He sees Nico’s hands, always one of his first memories, helping him up the torturous stairs to their apartment.
The pink corner of his mouth, the bony bend in his elbow, the outline of his ribs under his white nightshirt; Jason remembers all of these things as clearly as if it were yesterday. They’re the pieces he clung onto, for fear of losing anything else of Nico.
But now those memories are being shoved aside, replaced by Reyna’s body stretched out on a white bed, Annabeth’s tight, ashen face, Piper’s hand on her Glock.
Yes, Nico’s alive. But he’s doing all of these terrible things and Jason can’t begin to understand why.
The pain finally comes, more intense than he expected, a physical ache that’s even worse than the eight minutes Jason had to live while Nico was dead, on that helicopter decades ago.
He can feel himself slowing down, the teeth of what he’s running from nipping at his heels. In his head, Hazel says and Nico says and Piper says and the monster says: you can’t run forever. it’s not a crime for people to be . . . different. i love you, fratello.
It's gonna catch him. It's about to catch him.