A/N: So this was a thing that happened. I wanted to try out skipping between past and present. It sucks as a story for a variety of reasons, and I'm fully aware of that, but it's not going to get any better so I'm just posting it. Please don't review just to say "it's not as good as usual" because I KNOW THIS and it'll just make me sad. Okay?

Tbh I did like zero research for this, so we're assuming that everything works the way I think it does: war, ship sails, death, and relationships forged deep, not wide, the night before tragedy strikes.

Disclaimer: I do not own PJO/HoO or Leo or Reyna or death.

Warning: character deathhh (also poor quality writing)

An army of Greeks and Romans fought in the plain, warring as one, Gaea being the only thing that could bridge so many centuries of tension. Orange and purple blurred together as they tried to fend off the monsters. There was no more rivalry, no more "Greeks versus Romans"—only those who tried to take life and those who tried to save it.

Reyna fought astride Scipio, the only pegasus she would have trusted for it, and when she was on the ground Aurum and Argentum defended her fiercely. Her imperial gold gladius sliced through monster after monster, coating her in yellow dust, but the enemy lines seemed never to end. To her left and to her right, demigods fell and didn't rise. Many of them she knew by name. Sweat running into her eyes like acid, she held position, she continued to fight. She was no hero of prophecy, but she was a daughter of Bellona, and she would win this war or die in the effort.

"Reyna, this is Leo—Leo, Reyna. You'll be working together to draft a plan for merging two groups into one army." Chiron towered over them where the Greek boy and Roman girl stood in front of a big table covered in maps and schematics. Their respective groups had only come together that day, throwing off all the plans already established, and he needed to delegate almost everything to demigods.

"Why can't someone else do it?" Leo demanded, looking frazzled, almost crazy. "I need to prep the Argo. Ask an Ares kid to—"

"Children of Ares have other responsibilities at the moment," Chiron said, almost sharply. "You know your cousins, especially the Seven, well enough that you can give Reyna an idea of how best to use them."

Leo looked at Reyna askance, and his hair caught fire. Oh, dear gods. She sighed as he tried to pat it out. "We'll have it done by dinner," she told the centaur, who nodded at her and then swept out to oversee the others preparing to meet Gaea in battle.

Without bothering with pleasantries, Reyna leaned over the table to get an overview of what they had to work with. Her warfare instincts kicked in as she traced her fingers over lines on the maps. That corner's just begging to be taken. It'd work, but only if we have people here and here . . .

Leo cleared his throat. "Hey, uh, I just wanted to say sorry about the whole shooting-at-Camp-Jupiter thing. I mean, it was an eidolon, but it was using me, and if I could do it over I—"

Looking up at him, an ache like pity in her chest, she held up her hand. His sentence faded out unfinished. "If it were any other time, rest assured I would have your hide," she said, quiet and tired. "But right now I can't waste any energy on it, okay? So we'll take a rain check on your punishment. Here, talk to me about your campers, and maybe if you have useful information I'll take it into account at the trial."

He exhaled sharply, visibly relieved. "Okay," he said uncertainly, and he leaned closer to her to get a good look at the map where her fingers had paused. He began to talk, ramble really, about the Greek campers, and she absorbed the information as fast as he could give it.

If Reyna had learned anything from her mother, it was that a warrior had to be able to fight alone. A soldier who constantly needed someone at his back was a danger to himself and his comrades. So when Annabeth struggled to hold off a hydra, or when Dakota surged toward a gorgon, Reyna held her course. Trying to help them would just cause more chaos. And besides, she trusted the training her Romans had received, and even the Greeks' unorthodox style.

But when something exploded in the side of the Argo II and it lurched toward the ground smoking, she faltered.

Chiron had reviewed and accepted Reyna's proposed battle strategy, but they still had until sunrise to wait, and no matter how long she lay in her cot, sleep eluded her. So she sat outside her tent and kept an extended watch for the rest of the camp: the other lucky demigods had, as far as she could tell, managed to pass out for a few hours.

A male silhouette walked up to her—short, scrawny, smelling of motor oil and campfire. Not Jason or Percy. Leo.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?" he asked in an undertone, plunking himself down beside her.

"No," she admitted. She lifted her lantern up to look him in the face: he had dark circles under his eyes, and though his hands were working nonstop at some little machine, he looked like all the humor had been drained out of him. She knew very well how that felt. "What are you working on?"

He looked down at his hands in faint surprise. "Uh, a walking clock, I think. Not sure why."

She shrugged. It didn't really matter why; it was something to occupy his mind. She wished she had something to do the same for her.

But apparently it wasn't doing a very good job. "Are we going into a losing fight?" he asked, sounding somewhere between depressed and desperate. "You know war, you're probably as smart as Annabeth. Do we have any chance of winning this?"

Reyna was quiet for a long while, watching the lantern light play on his face as he looked back at her, waiting, hardly daring to ask for hope. Could she even give it to him in good conscience?

"I hope so," she said finally. "But we're a strong group going up against another strong group. Maybe even the proverbial unstoppable force and unmovable object. It's going to be ugly. We're going to lose some people."

His gaze drifted to the ground, hollow and empty. The ache in her chest was back. Tentatively she reached out and clasped him on the shoulder, the way she would have for any of her Romans.

"But we won't let any of them die in vain," she finished. "Maybe it'll be one death that makes it possible to defeat Gaea."

Leo glanced at her, and even though he still wasn't at his best (was anyone?), she was glad to see a little spark of determination back in his eyes. He even attempted a joke: "And as soon as we finish this, I can finally have that Roman trial I've been waiting for. The real cause for worry."

She tried to laugh, but it was only a short sigh. "Exactly."

The Argo II was coming closer to the plains, smoke billowing from the injury and flames licking at its sides. Reyna wasn't sure how many people were on board—at least Leo, possibly others. She gritted her teeth, trying to stick to her rules: stand alone, fight alone. But if that ship crashed, it would hurt a lot of her own people, and they'd lose a huge offensive advantage.

Someone from the infantry screamed as another cannon blasted the warship. Knowing in her gut that this was a bad idea, Reyna kicked her heels into Scipio, spurring him into the sky and at full speed toward the Argo. She leaned low over the pegasus' neck, moved with him to dodge flying missiles, shouted ha! to get him to go faster. They didn't have much time.

A head of curly hair popped up on deck, and down swung Leo, swearing up a storm as he tried desperately to fix the problem inside the gaping hole. She swung up to a stop beside him, Scipio flapping to hover in the air.

"Is there anyone else on the ship?" she shouted to him over the roar of war.

"Just me!" he yelled back, barely sparing her a glance.

That was good, at least, but the sinking ship was still an issue. "Can I help?" she yelled.

He thrust one index finger up, pointing toward a sail that had been knocked out of place. "Get that back up, we might have a chance!" He clambered back inside and ran for the engine, and she spurred Scipio further upward, toward the mainsail flopping like a broken arm. She had sailed regular warships before, but never a flying one. She hoped there wasn't much difference in sail anatomy.

Bracing herself with one hand against the mast, Reyna did a quick sweep of the out-of-joint sail. It didn't look like any permanent damage had been done, thank the gods. Leo just needed to devote his energy to the more pressing damage in the engine room. She clicked her tongue at Scipio and he rose a few labored feet. Focusing her full attention on the work, she gripped the mast, hefted it against the wind and gravity, and summoning all her strength shoved it back into its proper socket. Immediately the sail caught the wind, slowing the Argo's descent considerably. From inside Leo whooped at the change. Reyna grinned in a surge of relief and ruffled Scipio's mane.

"Let's get back where we belong," she called in his ear, and they wheeled around to return to the battle. She looked up just in time to watch a massive bronze cannonball smash into the two of them.

Reyna and Leo sat up together outside her tent through the night, tired and anxious but unable to unwind enough to actually rest. So instead of forcing false small talk, he told stories of his mother and of foster homes he'd run from, and she reciprocated with stories of learning from Circe and defeating pirates and earning her place as praetor of Camp Jupiter. Some of them, even Jason and Hylla didn't know about, and here she shared them. It passed the time in the most pleasant way possible, relatively speaking, but a somber finality still solidified in her stomach as she spoke and listened in turn: who knew if either of them would live to see the next sunset?

But this, this nearly anonymous intimacy, felt like the only certain thing right then. Secrets aired, sidebars of life that no one else had heard before, almost like a guarantee. If they both survived, then a new relationship had been forged. If they didn't, then at least there would be someone to carry on the memory of the other.

Somber. Final. Resigned.

As the first sliver of morning sun peeked over the horizon, seeming grey and fatal to Reyna instead of warm and comforting. A new day, maybe the last. None of them knew anything except that Mother Earth was to rise with the sun. Leo and Reyna joined the assembling ranks, sharing a significant look. She nodded at him; he saluted her. Then she mounted Scipio and he scrambled up into the Argo II, and one of the many demigods blew the war horn.

Girl and pegasus were not enough to stop the cannonball, but it was more than enough to stop them. It missed the ship but smashed into them at top velocity, rolling over them and hurling them downward at an angle without even slowing. Reyna dimly realized she'd left the saddle, but she lost track of Scipio because from the moment she'd been hit all she could feel was pain, agonizing pain, through her entire body. Crashing through the floor made almost no difference.

It would have been so easy to give up, to dissolve. Daughter of Bellona, she forced herself to think. Keep your head. Through the haze she tried to take inventory. Legs—unmovable, probably broken. Arms, same. Something was sticking into her back, screaming, and even just thinking about it made her squeeze her eyes shut. Her hair was sticky, most likely with blood. She couldn't move her head at all. The edges of her vision were spotty with black.

Oh, gods. She gritted her teeth against it all—she wanted to scream, to cry, to kick something, but all she could do was gasp and try to breathe without moving too much. Moving hurt. Breathing hurt. Everything hurt. The blackness was moving in. She struggled to focus.

Someone pounded up on the floor and dropped beside her. She tried to look, but all she could make out from where she lay were suspenders over a dirty orange shirt. The person was talking, babbling in horrified Spanish. No, no, no, dios mio, necesito ayudarte, ¿qué puedo hacer?, reina, reina, por favor—

He touched her side and she finally shouted, a rough-throated howl, and he jerked his hand away but continued to babble. Trinkets clunked onto the floor. She heaved for breath, her brow and jaw tight, involuntary tears stinging her closed eyes. The pain in her back was as fierce as ever, draining her entire being. She was beginning to lose feeling in her feet, her hands, and though it was a welcome respite she knew she ought to resist the sleep that brought it.

The only thing she could do: she forced her eyes open. Most of the world was blocked out by the spotty blackness, but for the first time she recognized Leo, who looked crazed with helplessness, desperate, terrified. She remembered him telling her about his mother burning in the workshop, about his fortune that sent Percy and Annabeth into Tartarus. She was sorry that she had to be another story for him to tell.

"Reina? Reyna!" he shouted, but the sound was distant, muffled. "Stay awake, please. I'm so sorry—" He was fumbling through his magical tool belt. Coming up with nothing.

It was Leo here. Not Jason, or Hylla, or anyone she would have thought to want. Just Leo. How strange. It crossed her mind to touch him, but she couldn't feel her arms anymore, and honestly she didn't have the strength either way. Instead she winced, which was sort of like a smile.

"Sorry," she echoed, faint and thin, referring to herself. She was sorry to leave her Romans, sorry to abandon her pets, sorry to die on Leo.

He stared down at her, hollow-eyed, until he tried for another motivation: "I haven't been tried yet!" he reminded her, his voice raw. "You have to stay alive, just until we can get a healer, and then you can sentence me for shooting at New Rome. Remember?"

She wouldn't preside over the Roman trial; she knew that much. Clenching her jaw, she strained for a few shallow breaths so she could finish. "Not in vain," she managed finally, looking Leo in the eye, hoping he would catch her full meaning. She had helped him fix the Argo; he could keep fighting, and they might actually beat Gaea. But even their conversation through the night didn't have to be pointless. She lay twisted and broken, but she wasn't giving up on everything. He would remember her . . . and besides, Romans and Greeks both believed in an afterlife. And after last night, the most terrible, serious night of her life, she could have argued that they knew too much about each other to just vanish forever.

You'll make Elysium, he was mouthing now, fiercely, but if he was actually saying it she couldn't hear him. His face crumpled in a silent sob, yet he didn't look away. Then her vision faded too. Even the pain in her back was gone, finally, but so was everything else.

But Reyna held onto her last two thoughts, intertwined, until even thoughts were no more: Elysium. And Leo.