A/N: Not exactly my best work. But not my worst either. The characterization of Nico is a little bit OC, as I haven't read PJO in a while, but I'm not sure how to fix it. And I'm not too sure about the ending either. This was written for my sister (Chasing Laughter). Anyway, here it is for all of you to enjoy.

a bit of irony

Whenever she can sneak away from the prying eyes of her family and the initiates, Sadie visits the graveyard. They know where she goes, and she sneaks because she'd rather not be the object of Carter's pity. She swears that the next time she sees him look at her that way, she'll sock him, the stupid prat.

She absentmindedly starts up her sad playlist. It's oddly appropriate, if not a little bit ironic. She smiles wryly. Here she is, moping about in a graveyard when they've just saved the world. She should be happy. And she is. Sometimes. But she figures she's got a right to sulk whenever she wants to. They've lost so many people in the war, and she can't help feeling as if she's been hit the worst. Carter has Zia, and she knows they don't mean to go around shoving this in her face, but the fact is that she has no one when she used to have someone, and it's times like these when she can't help but miss him. She wants to scream and shout and throw a bloody tantrum at the world. It's not fair. She saved the world. She stopped the Apocalypse. She helped restore Ma'at, brought back the way of the gods. But Walt still died and there's nothing she can do about it.

She bitterly kicks a rock and collapses beside his grave. She refuses to cry, but she wishes she knew what to do. She doesn't even carry a shred of hope that Anubis will come and just talk to her. He never does and she doesn't blame him anymore. He's a busy god. He can't just drop everything to be at her beck and call at every moment. She had let herself hope once that there would be something more between them after that kiss, but she knew that hope was futile now. He had explained once. She hadn't been listening properly, it was just after they had finally defeated Apophis and she had been giddy with relief and joy, but she knew the gist of it – everything he touches dies. He'd had a host once too. Just one. And he'd slowly died because of it. That had definitely put a damper on her spirit.

She's alone, just as she's always been. She knows she's still young – she's only sixteen after all. But she feels older than she should after all the things she's seen and done. She went out with her mates Emma and Liz the other day, and she felt hopelessly lost amidst giggles and talk of boys and makeup and clothes. She just can't see the point in those things anymore when she's seen death and people she knew and talked to and laughed with are dead. She's wants to be Sadie Kane again, the mortal who had nothing to worry about except grades and friends. But she can't, and she's stuck being Sadie Kane, host of Isis with a host of other problems that need fixing.

She wants to be angry that her innocence was taken away at such a young age, but all she can be is weary and exhausted. She knows that she's just a shadow of herself, of the bright and fierce Sadie, and that the others worry about her, but she can't bring herself to pretend that that Sadie hadn't died when Walt had.

She hears a twig snap from behind her, and she immediately crouches into a defensive position. She grabs her staff from the ground – she's learned the hard way to never leave it at home – and points it at the intruder. Her first thought is 'Anubis?' but after a few seconds she can see that it isn't him, although they look as if they could be distant cousins. They both have black hair and skin as pale as death. He looks to be about her age, maybe a little older. Her second thought is 'He's hot' but she shakes it of as easily as she did the first. She studies him. His hands are above his head in the universal 'I surrender' pose, but his eyes are alert, watching her as warily as she does him.

"Who are you?" She notices a gleaming black sword strapped to his belt and points her staff threateningly at him, ready to summon her magic if he makes a grab for it.

"I'd like to ask the same thing of you. Are you a daughter of Hecate?" He shoots back, an eerie grin finding its way onto his face. Sadie shivers involuntarily. It's unnerving. She has no idea what he's talking about, but damned if she'll let him know that.

"No. But I asked you first. If you don't answer in the next five seconds, I'll blast you into the next century." She glares at him and tries to make her voice sound more threatening.

He rolls his eyes and mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, "But you sound like a daughter of Hecate."

"What was that?" She shoves the end of her staff under his chin. His eyes widen before he rolls them again. He looks entirely unfazed as if he receives death threats on a regular basis. His lips quirk at the ends as if he's trying to fight a smile.

"Five." She narrows her eyes at him. "Four. Three."

He rolls his eyes again and says, "Fine. I can't believe you don't know who I am though. I would've thought it was obvious – well, everyone says so anyway - and you're definitely a half-blood, and you're old enough to be claimed, and I don't believe you when you say you're not a daughter of Hecate." He eyes her speculatively. "Maybe her Roman counterpart, then? But what are you doing all the way in New York? And even then, they all know to stay well enough away from the only living son of Hades." He grinned at her again.

"What the bloody hell are you going on about? You better explain soon or I'll make good on my offer."

"Di immortales, you really don't know what I'm talking about, do you?" He has the air of a madman who had found a flaw in his newest monstrosity.

"And you better explain soon. Two. One."

"Fine, fine. Nico di Angelo, son of Hades, at your service." He takes a step back and mockingly bows. "And who might you be? Walking around cemeteries isn't exactly high on most people's to-do list on a Saturday night."

"What do you mean, son of Hades? And what I do choose to do on a Saturday night is none of your business." She says defensively. "Besides, you're out here too."

"Ah, but I'm not most people, as we've already discussed." He winks. "Where else would a son of Hades be on a Saturday night but lurking around in a graveyard?" He says this with a trace of bitterness that catches her off-guard for a moment. "Being a son of Hades isn't all the cracked up to be, you know. Sure, raising the dead and getting the skeletons to do my chores is fun, but it's also dead tiring. And Father makes me do all these odd jobs at ridiculous hours." He rolls his eyes again.

"You're still not making any sense at all. Maybe I should call the nuthouse instead?" She suggests, fighting back a smile.

Nico stares at her as if she's the one not making any sense at all. "I told you. I'm Nico di Angelo, son of Hades." He says this as if it explains everything. Sadie wants to strangle him. "And all children of Hades are slightly unhinged anyway. It's in our genes. I'm surprised you haven't run screaming for the hills yet, but I can tell you're not the screaming type. I'd advise you to run while you can, but for some reason, I'm enjoying your company. The dead aren't very good company, you know. Besides I don't think you plan on leaving any time soon. And you never answered my question. Who are you?"

She sighs as if it takes all of her energy to provide the answer. She figures if giving her name is going to get her answers, there's no harm in doing so. "Sadie Kane, host of Isis, and magician of the Twenty-First Nome of the House of Life. So if you know what's good for you, you'll give me answers quick."

He looks confused for a moment, before he slaps a hand to his forehead. "Gods, no wonder you haven't understood a thing. I just assumed you knew, since you attacked me. The only ones who usually go around attacking me are monsters and arrogant demigods. You're Egyptian?"

Sadie slowly nods her head. He's intriguing her, with all his talk of things she doesn't understand and his dark brown eyes shining under a cold exterior. Plus, even though all his rambling and side-tracking is annoying, it's also kind of cute.

"Well, Annabeth will be excited to hear about this at any rate. We should have expected this. It makes sense. If the Greek and Roman gods are real, then why wouldn't the others be?" He starts pacing, unmindful of her staff following his every move. "What the Hades is next, the Norse?" He finally turns to her, and raises his eyebrow. "And did you say host of Isis?"

She nods again. "All of our gods were imprisoned, but my brother and I are bringing back the old ways."

"Well, I suppose not all gods are as horny as ours." Thunder rumbles warningly above them. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry!" He shouts above. "I suppose I should explain."

And he does, and surprisingly, Sadie lets herself listen because she hasn't felt this alive since Walt died, and she can feel energy and magic rushing through her blood like fire, warming her up in a way she sorely missed. Nico tells her stories of fun and adventure and quests and monsters and camp and friends. But he also tells her about war and his sister and death and resentment, things she knows all too well about. She can see the sadness and the resentment still lurking behind the brightness of his eyes and even though she doesn't know him very well, she wants to see it gone. So she tells her own story, and she makes sure that he knows she understands.

And what does it matter if when the first light of dawn hits the treetops, she kisses him on the cheek and agrees to meet him there again tomorrow? Even though he's the son of the underworld – not to mention really annoying - he's made her feel more alive then she's ever felt before.

As she walks back home, there's a spring in her step and she can't stop smiling, the music from her happy playlist blasting in her ears the entire time.