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itsomgitsgreenblogging · 8 years

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Between: A PJO Fanfiction

This is a fic that’s mostly made of vignettes, some personal headcanons and some canon extension about those referenced Nico moments that were never explicitly addressed leading into those Solangelo moments we all wanted to get.

I hope you all enjoy!

Also read on AO3

Trigger Warning: suicide attempt

Preview:

Nico drifted in a margin between a starless sky and a sea.

Somewhere between, only breaching surface enough to breathe and take another seed between his lips and hope it grew into something better.

There was only darkness, only shadow. He was trapped somewhere in the land between life and death with no way to navigate through.

Would anyone come? Would there ever be any light? Or would he be trapped there for the rest of time? Even if he escaped this fate, would it matter if what he wanted most he could never have? How much more would he have to sacrifice to make it all matter if he had already sacrificed everything?

Nico would do it. One last time.

He sank.

Nico struggled.

“You can’t even summon one ghost. Absolutely pathetic,” his father had sneered, in his eyes an ancient cruelty, and yet his words slid off Nico’s numbed skin like rain and did not reach within. Inside of him something continued to wither. “This is why your sister should have lived. You have amounted to nothing, be gone from my sight.”

And so Nico had expelled himself from Hades, wandered amongst the dark sands and caverns until he found himself surface-bound. How far and how long he had walked was anyone’s guess, but exhaustion clung to him as he desperately tried to inch his way through a darkened forest. Where he was, Nico didn’t particularly care to know or find out.

“Why won’t she answer me?” Nico asked Hades, somebody, no one in particular. His vision was swimming, his tongue felt swollen and yet his mouth was so dry. “Did she...did she hate me so much—that much? And I didn’t…how didn’t I know?”

He knew he had spoken the words but were so far away that he couldn’t hear them or know if anyone had answered. There was an emptiness inside him, something insidious. Was it hunger? Nico thought oddly distant. Nico couldn’t remember the last thing he had eaten, he had burned everything he had stolen in offering. But it was dull and insignificant in comparison to the insidious emptiness inside of him, the void that ached, the sickening continual pain.

Nico wandered, moving only because there was nothing else he could do. He stumbled when he couldn’t walk, crawled when his legs folded beneath him, lay down when he could no longer move. He curled up in that oppressive darkness, with barely enough strength to lift his limbs.

Nico wondered if he would disappear if he waited. Would he disappear into the underworld without a trace? Certainly he would be sent to the Asphodel Fields and become a nameless shade, as Lord Hades had repeatedly told him because Nico would never amount to anything. It was his sister who should have lived. She had been the promised one, never Nico.

Would he even make it there or would he instead be bound for the Fields of Punishment? Nico thought suddenly seized with panic. Was this not punishment enough, to be so lonely that every moment felt as if it were a new death? If he wouldn’t even be reunited with his sister in death, if she did not want him even then, what could he do? He didn’t have anyone left, his mother, his sister, gone—

“Papa…” Nico croaked and reached, even though he didn’t exist and wouldn’t be there to take his hand. That gentle but stern, that firm but loving Papa who had lived in his memory must have just been that, a beautiful golden memory, a dream-figment. A beautiful story that Nico had cultivated to protect his heart from the truth that his world was only two people who were gone forever. But oh, his golden memory. A hand that didn’t hurt and took nothing from him reaching down to grasp his own, squeezing gently and keeping Nico close and safe. A curve of lip that may have been a smile. Dark eyes that were fond and warm. Nico didn’t need much, only that small flicker of happiness, that dim and seemingly inconsequential reason, and he would have been content for the rest of his life. What wouldn’t he give to sink into that dream and live there in that moment for the rest of time? What wouldn’t he have given to have the chance to go home?

Nico, freezing, starving, and half-mad with a grief just wanted to go home.

He wanted it so bad that he could feel it in the root of his teeth. He could see it in his mind’s eye, feel it against his flesh, reach for it in the dark. Home, Nico thought desperately as he plunged his hand into shadow as his heart’s cry intensified. Papa, please, take me back home. I want to go home, home—

And then suddenly the ground opened up, and Nico fell into shadow.

Nico would never forget that first unwitting leap, how he screamed but no sound came out as he tumbled through the darkness. The shadows reached for him, pulling him further and further, called to him with in a choir of the damned—our prince, our prince, our prince—

Nico fought and surfaced, expelled from the shadows violently about a mile away. He hit the ground hard, slid down a ravine and into the mouth of a cave, and lay there stunned, in so much pain that he couldn’t move, and absolutely exhausted.

When Nico finally managed to raise his head, Minos was looking down at him shimmering and iridescent.

“There may be hope for you after all.”

Nico was ten.

Nico’s breath swirled and caught the light, his puffs of air an iridescent white in the winter night. There was a distant stinging against his face and neck, where the collar of his jacket didn’t quite cover, but it didn’t bother him much anymore.

Christmas-time in Dresden was a beautiful blaze of light in the night, the Christmas market was full of venders and people bustled around the stands in search of hot mulled wine and a litany of traditional sweets and foods. A Ferris wheel and carousel churned in a dizzying rhythm, bursts of music and laughter filled the air. Nico didn’t know how to speak German (the fact that he could parcel out vague meanings was odd and he couldn’t really explain it), which was an issue because after accidentally shadow-traveling there from rural Idaho he was in desperate need of both sleep and food but couldn’t figure out a way to ask for either nor did he have any euros on him. So he had taken to slipping through alleyways and between stalls in search of something to fill his stomach that he could easily nick.

Maybe it was Nico’s vaguely panicked and hungry look that drew attention, but suddenly a man was standing in front of him. Tall and stocky, with a beard full of curls, he looked down on Nico with blue eyes and crinkled laugh lines.

“Fröhliche Weihnachten!” he greeted with a booming voice that made Nico jump and his hands twitch for his Stygian sword. The man—the baker, who obviously could not see beyond the thin veil of Mist, nor perceive the threat of Nico’s entire existence, because he began to rattle off fast paced German and Nico only vaguely caught a mention of him asking Nico if he was hungry.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak German,” Nico croaked, his voice sounding raspy and strange in his own ears.

“Ah! Sorry, sorry,” the baker said in very heavily accented English before reaching over to scoop a small plate of cookies that looked vaguely like gingerbread and place it in Nico’s hands. “Lebkuchen for you! Have a happy Christmas!”

“I didn’t pay—“ Nico tried to say, before suddenly a tide of tourists nearly swept him away as he still clutched his cookies.

Nico was then standing alone in a sea of people with his newly acquired cookies, feeling stranded. However the cookies looked so good, dusted with powered sugar, wafting the scent of ginger and molasses and candied citron. He had just lifted one up to his mouth, and into an alleyway, and before he could even put together a new thought suddenly he was face to face with the faint shimmering image of Minos, his eyes glinting coldly from behind the pale.

“I believe you thought to change your father’s opinion of you,” Minos scoffed and Nico felt his teeth clench. Suddenly nothing was okay again. “How do you believe you could possibly gain enough power to do that and save your sister, if you can’t even manage to shadow travel to Boise from Cadwell without ending up in Germany!”

“Shut up!” Nico growled back at him, storming into shadow and dropping into it, all his thoughts trained on Boise and focused by his rage.

It was only when he fell out of cleaning supply in Bismark to the surprise and concern of a couple of employees that he realized he hadn’t taken his bite and promptly fainted. He spent that Christmas trying to escape from a holding cell in Montana.

Nico jumped.

For a moment everything was still, no pain, no hunger, no exhaustion. Nico became impressions: a sword, a golden memory, his sister’s smile, his mother’s laughter so clear it was as if his mind had been waiting until the end to give him one final blessing—

—the air whistled and hummed as if alive the grey water came up to embrace him—

Who knew there was

an entrance to

the underworld

beneath

the

Golden Gate Bridge?

Nico stuffed himself full of cake and ice cream, as much as he could get his hands on, unable to give up the opportunity. He avoided Percy Jackson’s mother’s concern, keeping his eyes cast down on his fingers.

“That plan is crazy,” Percy said quietly, tapping a frantic rhythm out with his finger on the table. Nico dared a look through his hair and saw Percy’s unwavering green stare on him. Nico immediately looked away, picking at the dirt beneath his fingernails, twisting his ring on his finger again and again.

“It would work,” Nico said, his throat feel scratchy. Percy was still looking at him, and Nico could almost feel it dig into his skin, raising his blood pressure, making his face feel hot. Nico hoped beyond all hope that Percy didn’t notice the way that Nico desperately wanted to disappear.

“How do you even know that?”

“If it’s good enough for Achilles, it would be good enough for you,” Nico scoffed. Percy frowned, lips pulling down, and Nico forced his gaze back to his hands and his empty plate.

“Annabeth would kill me for trying something so stupid,” Percy noted, and Nico swallowed desperately, bracing himself against the unnamed emotion that was rising within him.

“Just think about it,” Nico said as he forced himself to stand up. His stomach lurched with the movement, and he braced against the table.

“Where are you sleeping tonight?” Percy suddenly asked, reaching out to him. “I could ask my mom—“

“I’m fine, Jackson,” Nico said, nearly spitting out the words and flinching away from the touch. “I’ll see you later. Let me know what you think.”

Nico left as quickly, rushing down the fire escape. He ran three blocks before he was forced to stop to throw up the contents of his stomach.

Nico sat across from Annabeth at the table.

On a day to day basis Nico actually liked Annabeth when he wasn’t hating her for things that were completely and utterly out of her control. That didn’t mean that being in the same room with her was easy. It couldn’t be when Annabeth could so easily attain the things that Nico could never have with a semblance of grace. She was what he couldn’t be, she had run away and yet she had found a home. She was harsh and yet people could look beyond that to love her. Annabeth was…she was…

Annabeth looked fondly at Percy’s retreating figure and Nico wanted to find somewhere in the ground that he could be buried. Her eyes trained on him, and Nico felt himself bristle.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” Nico said because he honestly hadn’t.

“You almost beheaded her,” Annabeth said with a raised eye brow.

“Well at least then she wouldn’t stick her nose where she doesn’t belong,” Nico said as he sunk down in his chair. Annabeth was not amused, and Nico wished somehow he could sink lower.

“Listen, I understand, after the Battle of Manhattan we’ve all been highly strung. But you can’t be making enemies here if you want to stay.”

“She snuck up behind me and—“ Nico felt his throat close around the word “scared”. Instead he sealed his mouth shut.

“Just…don’t do what you’ve been doing,” Annabeth said as she tugged at one of her perfect princess curls, her grey eyes almost powdery blue in the midday sun.

“And what have I been doing?” Nico snapped, feeling that ugly unnamed feeling rise up once more.

“I’m not in the mood to deal with your bad attitude right now,” Annabeth said as she leveled annoyed glare. “Just apologize to Ares Cabin before someone puts a hit in for Capture the Flag or something.”

“Fine,” Nico said as he stood up and burst from the pavilion. He stomped out, watching as the other campers gave him a wide breadth. Had they always done that? Nico suddenly thought and was seized by panic. When had they started doing that? Why had Annabeth said that? Why did it have to be Annabeth--?

Nico smacked into a girl from Aphrodite Cabin. Her eyes blew out and her face drained of color, as she cringed and stuttered out an apology. Suddenly Nico was swimming in a rising sea of whispers, of fears. What had been his strength was suddenly his undoing. How had he not noticed? How?

“Nico, you alright?” Percy Jackson called from the training fields, his hair slick with sweat, his shirt riding up.

Nico ran back to his cabin and slammed the door close. By nightfall Nico had left Camp Half-Blood for good trying to outrun the jealousy that was threatening to drown him, and the unadulterated anger for the one who caused it. At least, Nico thought, someone was waiting for him this time.

Between was different, not bad, but different.

Persephone was Persephone. She had her days where she viewed Nico as one would a wall ornament or try to throw fruit at him as if he could get exercise by playing fetch. But on somedays it almost seemed like she didn’t mind when Nico sat with her in the garden and let her ramble about nitrogen and tree roots.

Sometimes Hades would almost smile when he looked at Nico. And sometimes, Hades looked like he wanted Nico to call him father and was always disappointed when Nico didn’t. But they were working on it. Slowly but steadily they were working on something. And that seemed to be enough for the both of them.

And Nico had Hazel now, a sister that Nico hadn’t known before but would never let go. He relearned how to laugh at himself. Remembered how nice it was to sit next to somebody and not have to speak, of the inherent understanding that came between siblings. Understood that though he could never replace what he lost and would always feel the ache within him, maybe, just maybe, he could move forward inch by inch with Hazel by his side. Nico remembered thinking he might like that, and thought that liking things was almost an intoxicating sensation. Percy Jackson disappearing and appearing with a forecast of severe memory loss had been stressful, but he was with Hazel and Nico could do things to keep himself from thinking of him for longer than a cursory acknowledgement.

Nico thought could do something about all of it. So he tried.

Anguish.

Something wet was seeping out of his side which hurt, it hurt so badly. He wanted it to stop, he had to get whatever was digging itself in his head out before it ate him whole—!

“Nico, you have to stop! You need to keep moving. Please, don’t hurt yourself anymore.”

Nico pulled his hand away, and realized they were painted with his blood. His arms were gouged, blood trailing down his knuckles and over the hilt of his sword, but he felt no pain besides a dull ache. Suddenly his mouth twisted and laughter odd and broken and exhausted scraped his throat as he stumbled forward. The wasted plains of Tartarus in all their horror lay out before him, and he had nothing to protect himself from it.

“I can’t…keep going,” Nico gasped out of a laugh, his steps swaying, his vision swimming. He felt ancient and frail as he swam amongst the curses in the belly of the deepest pit with fire in his blood and sickness in his heart.

“You have to. You can’t give up, Nico. You can’t ever give up. If you do they will capture you, and everything could be over,” her voice was calm and urgent in his ears. He had long since stopped wondering why, why then, why now? Maybe he had been saving Bianca for the moment when he needed her most. Or maybe that was the form his scantly remaining powers took to guard him from complete and utter madness. Maybe it was his conscience, or his heart. If he still had a heart left, maybe its beat would be Bianca’s voice. Nico didn’t know, nor did he care.

“I know…I know,” Nico said, trying desperately to breathe through the contractions that were choking him and the stinging in his throat. “If I die here…do you think my soul will still make it to…”

“You can’t think like that, please don’t think like that Nico. You have to get there, and you can’t let them catch you.”

“Why not?” Nico asked, as he had to force his sword into the ground to steady himself for a moment. It hurt, everything hurt. Why did he have to keep on going? He knew he had to, but all he wanted to do was lay down and sleep forever.

“Nico!”

“I’m sorry,” Nico gasped as he snapped back to attention, forcing his legs up from where his knees had given out. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry—“

Suddenly he could feel it, a rumbling in the abyss. The monsters, Nico thought panicked, they were coming back—

“Nico!”

The darkness in Nico boiled and frothed out from the inside. He could feel the shadows writhing beneath his skull, welling from his bones and spilling through his veins. Everything shifted, he was sinking as the corruption took a hold of him, and despite everything in him that was fighting back there was barely anything left of him to hold onto. The shadows ripped into him, bidding him to melt away into the darkness, and Nico didn’t want to go.

He stumbled and fell, still fighting against the claws. He screeched as he met twin cruel grins.

Nico drifted in a margin between a starless sky and a sea.

Somewhere between, only breaching surface enough to breathe and take another seed between his lips and hope it grew into something better.

There was only darkness, only shadow. He was trapped somewhere in the land between life and death with no way to navigate through.

Nico would do it. One last time.

He sank.

“Why do you keep trying to talk to me?” Nico asked Will Solace bluntly.

Nico was sitting on a bed in the infirmary, having stripped off his shirt so Will could take a look at his gashes. Nico hadn’t particularly wanted to come to the infirmary, as he didn’t know how those in danger of dying would feel with his presence. At the same time, Will Solace had impressed him with his guts. And Nico always honored those who he believed deserved it with his respect, so he had come to the infirmary with those thoughts in mind.

“Well…I don’t know. I just like talking to you is all,” Will answered, the question’s premise seemingly amusing to him. Nico wasn’t amused.

“Why?” Nico continued to press.

“You’re easy to like, Nico,” Will chuckled fondly.

Nico scowled, mostly out of bafflement. He was definitely not easy to like. In his whole life the only people he had managed enough fondness to be considered genuine affection from were his mom and sisters…and his dad. But they were also biologically inclined to like him at least a little bit. Or at the very least not to immediately hate him or anything. Not that he didn’t have the skills to make them regret that. It was an unfortunate side effect of being a child of the underworld. Reyna was a different, special case. She had shared her strength with him, they were more like comrades in arms than anything (though a part of Nico knew he was just kidding himself).

Though thankfully both Bianca and Hazel had avoided that curse where Nico and most other children of Hades/Pluto before them hadn’t. People had loved Bianca, loved how thoughtful, mature, and polite she was, how interesting she could be with that bit of rebellion in her and the pretty curl of her hair. And people utterly adored Hazel, it was almost impossible not to with her bright welcoming smile and her inclination to fierceness and determination and a startling flash of beauty to boot. If Nico had done anything in his life that he could be proud of, it was saving Hazel. Hazel, who deserved to be loved and would be loved by anyone who met her. She made it seem easy even though Nico knew it wasn’t. Dark and rangy Nico di Angelo was unlikable enough already without the blood of the king of the dead compounding the issue.

And that suited Nico just fine. He knew he wasn’t a pleasant person to be around on most days. Nico certainly didn’t blame anyone for getting annoyed with him, or frustrated, or creeped out. Even Nico felt that way about himself pretty regularly. When people were nice to him, it was more of a reflection on their character than anything Nico did to give them a high opinion. (People like dumb Percy Jackson who was so inherently good that he would again and again try to save his greatest enemy rather than kill them at first opportunity like Nico would have and would never get mad at Nico and took all the blame on even though it was Nico’s fault because even though Percy didn’t like to be the hero, he was the greatest hero Nico would ever know. And Nico would never really hate Percy for being so kind to him in all of his times of need, even when he had wanted to with all his heart. And even if Nico didn’t like like Percy anymore, Nico would always like Percy Jackson and consider him one of his greatest friends and allies. Though Percy never needed to know that.)

But hearing that from Will Solace made him feel…well, he was flattered honestly. Confused, sure. Wary, yes. Nico had no clue where Will had gotten the idea in his head, but he was flattered because it had been, well, a nice thing to say. An unwarranted and undeserved compliment, but Will Solace was a nice person. And Nico knew from just knowing Will for a couple hours that Will was one of those people who could find a glimmer of goodness in anybody, and that was an admirable trait. So if Will thought he was likable, though it was misguided, Nico had to believe he said it out of kindness.

“Thank you,” Nico admitted awkwardly, twisting his ring around his finger. Mostly because he really didn’t know what to say, and denying the compliment would have been rude to a person who had only been nice to him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Will said with a fond look, giving Nico’s hand a pat. Nico resisted the urge to jump back and nurse his hand as if he had been burned. “Alright, I’m going to start cleaning the wounds. It’ll probably sting a bit—oh wait, before that, I’ll give you some nectar and ambrosia.”

“That stuff doesn’t really work on me,” Nico told him.

“Unicorn draught?” Will offered and Nico shrugged. “Coach Hedge’s medicinal gum?”

Nico winced, and Will chuckled.

“Alright, gum it is,” Will said as he reached to grab a box.

“That stuff tastes like peppermint and graveyard dirt,” Nico groaned as Will offered him a stick.

“Funny how you know that exact flavor. You sound like quite the connoisseur,” Will said, as Nico took the stick of gum.

“What can I say, it’s always bone-dry,” Nico added as he snapped the gum between his teeth, baring them to Will so he could see he was chewing.

“Was that a pun?” Will asked with a laugh that was bright and sudden. “Nico, son of Hades, likes to make puns.”

“Hey, I have to have some way to torture my unwilling victims,” Nico scoffed.

Both Will and Nico shared a something akin to a smile, something tentative and yet warm and natural. It was maybe an alliance? Something too fresh to be called a friendship or anything that extreme. But Nico got the sense that maybe Will Solace was someone he wouldn’t mind spending three days with.

“Hey,” Percy said as he sat down next to Nico. Nico was taking a sip from a water bottle, and regarded Percy curiously albeit slightly nervous.

“Hey,” Nico replied, fiddling with his water bottle.

For a few moments they just sat next to each other, side by side. Percy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and seemingly took a deep breath before peeking over at him. There was nothing angry in his gaze, nothing hurt. Instead, there was something kind there.

“I wanted to talk about things, but, I don’t know. Do you want to talk?” Percy asked him honestly, running a hand through his dark hair.

“I’m not good at talking.”

“I’ve had better conversationalists, sure. But there’s only one Nico,” Percy noted before looking ahead somewhere. Nico followed his gaze to the younger children playing Harpies and Hopscotch on the green. “You were like that, when we first met. A lot of energy.”

“I was not,” Nico protested weakly, Percy gave him a look and Nico groaned. “I was embarrassing. If this is you trying to make amends, bringing back my dark past is not the way to do it. You may know I wasn’t always a badass, but they don’t know that and I will kill you to shut you up.”

“Alright, alright,” Percy said as he help up his hands in surrender, his laughter bright and Nico found himself almost smiling. “You going to stay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Nico said as he twisted his ring. “I want to try living up here again. Give it a second chance.”

“Good. I’m glad,” Percy said. “Nico…I’m sorry. You went through a lot and…I didn’t make it easier for you.”

“You couldn’t control the fact I had a crush on you.”

“But still. I’m sorry.”

“…I forgive you,” Nico said, the words hard to sound out, but the moment they were out it felt as if the weight of the world was off his shoulders. Percy clapped his hand on Nico’s shoulder and squeezed. Nico rolled his eyes and elbowed him.

“…Will Solace though, huh?” Percy commented.

Percy yelped as Nico dumped the Gatorade in his water bottle over his head.

Nico pressed up on the balls of his feet.

He wasn’t tall, this he would grudgingly admit. But Nico stretched and reached, curling his fingers in the sleeve of Will’s sweatshirt.

Nico kissed Will Solace, and he felt his eyes flutter shut. Their lips were pressed together, and Nico could almost feel his heart pounding in his head and he felt completely and utterly alive. It was delicious and it was a breathing magical thing between them and it was so good—impossibly good that Nico couldn’t believe that it was true. And Nico knew he wanted to do it again and again, wanted to drown Will Solace and his beautiful golden curls and warm grins that dimpled and the freckles on his golden skin and his hands that were gentle and kind with a thousands kisses.

In that moment Nico was made radiant, he was made daring, he was made foolish, he was made new by love (though he couldn’t admit it yet, not yet, but maybe soon, maybe again).

Will Solace cupped Nico’s cheek, tracing his thumb over Nico’s skin, and shivered into the kiss. When they parted, Nico’s breath was ragged and his mouth felt hot and Will’s eyes were the color of morning glories darkened and intense.

“I…wow,” Will Solace said with an appreciative whistle, and Nico couldn’t help but feel his mouth quirk. “That was…that was perfect.”

“Stop that,” Nico said, unable to help the fact he was suddenly embarrassed by the intensity of his thoughts. Nico felt his entire face explode into heat from his neck to the tips of his ears.

“It totally was,” Will said with a dreamy smile that looked love-struck, and Nico could tell he was being completely serious and yet, somehow, that was even worse.

“I was awful,” Nico argued weakly, kicking a rock with the toe of his boot.

“You definitely weren’t, here, feel my heart beat,” Will said as he suddenly grabbed Nico’s hand and pressed it to his chest. And suddenly Nico could feel it, the way Will’s heart fluttered against his ribs, and his fingers twitched. “See? You’ve made my heart race!”

“You…I see,” Nico admitted as he swallowed nervously.

“So this means I like you, and you like me.”

“It does,” Nico conceded. Trying not to let it show how happy he was when Will said the words out loud, that Will Solace liked Nico di Angelo and Nico di Angelo liked Will Solace. It was right, in a terrifying way.

“That makes me ridiculously happy,” Will said as he curled his hand around Nico’s and pulled it from his chest, he held their hands intertwined together between them. “You make me ridiculously happy.”

“You make me happy too,” Nico told him, as he squeezed Will’s hand back.

Nico was. He really was.

#Solangelo #solangelo fanfiction #pjo fanfiction #Nico di Angelo #Will Solace #Percy Jackson #Annabeth Chase

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