north

xvi, ghosts

When the steam leaves his hands and there's still white spots in his vision, but no more lightning, he dives to the ground and starts digging at what parts of Nico he can reach. His legs are the furthest back, sinking an entire foot below, but Jason focuses on unearthing his face first. When he digs him out and sits up him by his shoulders, he lets loose a great gasp and starts coughing up dirt and blood. Jason pats his back and rides out his retching with him, murmuring soft reassurances.

"I've got you, Nico," he whispers, the mansion in his eyes, dirt in his mouth, and fire spilling from his ears. "It's okay. I'm here, I'm here."

He's still wearing Nico's jacket and remembers the thermos. He makes Nico drink the rest of it to help wash some of the dirt out from his lungs. He wipes off what he can, but much of it has fused with the blood previously staining his cheeks. He helps Nico to his feet and continues dusting him off. He's quiet, shaky, but responsive enough to help ease some of Jason's worry.

Head to toe, Nico is filthy. He looks Jason up and down and tries to smirk, regain some of his old self. "We match now," he finally says, referring to the gunk that plagues them both.

Jason laughs and pulls him in for a hug, his entire body sagging in relief. Then he remembers himself and parts. Nico looks annoyed, maybe even disappointed. Jason can't tell if it's because he touched him or because he let go.  "Sorry, I know I grabbed you earlier, but I want to make sure it's all right now. Can I touch you?"

Nico snorts and it devolves into another fit of coughing. He manages to get out, "As long as you're trying to save my life, I'll let it pass." There's something in his voice that makes Jason warm. Nico's voice gets smaller, smaller, and Jason strains for every syllable, "Thank you. You... you don't have to ask, you know. I... appreciate it. But at this point, you don't need to ask."

Something blossoms in Jason's chest and he struggles to keep it there. He doesn't want to let it fall from his tongue and scare himself, scare Nico. Now is not the time. He takes Nico into his arms, hoping his touch is strong enough to force the trauma from Nico's mind and body for a little while. He drinks in Nico's brown eyes for too long before they get going again.

He lets Jason carry him through the deadened meadow. They come down a slope to the edge of a cliff leading to a river far below. He feels invigorated, occasional pulses electricity as his high fades, but can hardly celebrate with Nico in such a shape. The water rushing below makes Jason feel heavy. He edges away from the cliff and takes a breath. "We're at the river Archenon. It's a long drop." There's an almost triumph in Nico's voice that makes Jason pause. "We're getting close. We're getting really close."

He looks to the other side of the canyon. "It's pretty far."

"The drop is farther."

Jason feels a little more confident in using the wind in Tartarus, now. His shoulders tense and he holds Nico firm in his arms. "Right. Close your eyes, we'll be across before you know it."

Nico refuses to let his lids drop. "There's no reason to close my eyes." His arms, looped around Jason's neck, tighten their hold. "I know you'll get us across."

The son of Jupiter takes a deep breath and a running start. He leaps across the canyon. He doesn't focus on the river below them, hissing dark, inviting promises. He concentrates on the wind. He coaxes a breeze, gentle, supportive, to propel them across. Nico's father is protecting him. And Jason can convince himself he doesn't need his father, whether he's protecting him or not. The gods are getting stronger, or their fathers care more about their sons than their diminishing strength (that thought shouldn't make him smile so much but it does). He thinks of Piper and Leo. The rest of his friends on the Argo II. Reyna braving the Atlantic on her own. Thalia. The boy in his arms.