summary : what would you give up for the love you lost?
pairing/s : Jason Grace x Reader
warning/s : death, grief, depression, unable to cope with loss, and with the happy (?) ending.
“You’re the better half of me.”
Jason Grace never missed a day telling you that.
In the warmth of his bed, in the chaos of battle, under the stars by the firepit, or during those quiet, angry moments where love still lingered under frustration— he always said it.
A vow. A reminder. And without fail, you believed him.
It was also the last thing he ever said to you.
Before he left with Piper, Lester, and Meg.
Before everything went to hell.
"Hang up already." You told him over the phone, trying to laugh past the unease that gnawed at your gut. "You’re going to attract monsters if we keep talking."
Jason didn’t want to hang up. There was something in his voice, heavy and unfinished.
But he swallowed it down.
"Yeah, you’re right. We need to go, anyway."
"I… I love you. More than anything. You know that, right?"
You smiled— how could you not? "I love you too."
"You’re my better half, (Y/N)."
"Because it’s true. You are, mea vita. Always. Goodbye."
Not See you soon. Not Wait for me.
Not the usual words he used when walking into danger and promising to bring back snacks.
You stared at your phone long after the call ended, your fingers cold, your chest sinking.
That should’ve been enough. That should’ve been the red flag, the final omen.
But you ignored it. Of course you did.
Jason was Jason. He was Jupiter’s golden boy. Trained for war, born to survive. If anyone was going to come back alive— it was him.
However, you underestimated the one part of him more dangerous than any enemy.
So when Chiron met you at the camp borders, wearing the same sorrowful expression he gave every soul who lost someone they couldn’t live without...
You didn’t scream. You didn’t speak.
You didn’t hear Lester’s rambling. Didn’t register Piper’s tear-choked apologies. Couldn’t process Leo's cries for his best friend.
You just stood there, the world around you turning to static.
He had plans. He had dreams.
He wanted to finish school in Edgarton. Maybe New Rome after that— politics, philanthropy, it didn't matter.
"I just want to do good, mea vita. Something meaningful." As he would say.
He even got Zeus’ approval (despite Percy’s mock tantrums over those damn recommendation letters).
He looked at you like you were it.
You’d seen it in his eyes every time he looked at you; "You’re my home, my peace, my life. Wherever you are, that's where I want to be."
Now? Gone. Just like that.
You didn’t react when they brought him in.
Not at first, at least. His face was too peaceful.
Like he was just sleeping— as if he’d just dozed off and if you kissed him, he'd wake up and ask what he missed.
You shattered when the truth landed like a sledgehammer.
You broke down into Percy’s arms, wailing, screaming, clinging to something— anything— that was still warm.
You thought you knew pain.
You’re a demigod— pain is your inheritance.
But this? This was obliteration.
The boy who made forever real and attainable was dead.
Everything else blurred after that.
The funeral. The way everyone watched you like glass.
Thalia’s words of gratitude for loving him the way he deserved barely reached your ears.
And then Chiron called it a hero’s death.
All of you were just kids.
Thrown into war after war. Expected to die quietly and call it glory.
And then the hollowness turned into rage— wild, directionless, unforgiving rage.
At Jason, for sacrificing himself. At Piper, for letting him. At the gods.
The weeks bled into months.
The others began to heal.
You woke up. Ate. Trained. Studied.
Moved through the days like a ghost in your own body.
At night, you’d sneak into Jason’s cabin and lay in his bed, surrounded by the scent of him, waiting for the door to open and his voice to say, "Sorry I took so long, (Y/N)."
You didn’t care about rules, balance, cosmic consequences.
You just wanted him back.
So you broke down and begged. Desperately.
To anyone who would listen.
Goddess of love and cruelty.
"What will you offer, (Y/N)?" She purred, saccharine and poisonous.
"Technically, I don’t do necromancy." She mused, eyes glowing pink. "But for a love that spits in death’s face? I’ll make an exception."
"Oh, nothing much. You’re Jason Grace’s better half, aren’t you? Let’s make it poetic."
You don’t remember what happened— just agony. Horrific, soul-splitting pain while her laughter echoed in your skull.
But through the haze, there was something else.
You woke up in the infirmary, your body wrecked and limbs trembling.
"What she did was reckless!" Annabeth's.
"You can’t blame her." Percy snapped. "If it were you, I’d do the same."
"What's important is (Y/N)'s vitals are healthy." Will cuts in. "Nico is talking to Hades to handle the—"
"Can we please just focus on my girlfriend?"
His name tore from your throat before you could stop it.
The curtain flew back. And there he was.
Jason runs to your bedside and kissed you like he was trying to fuse your souls back together. "Mea vita, my love, my (Y/N)..."
You expected him to be furious.
Instead, he just held you like he’d never let you go again.
Like you were the miracle.
And in that moment, you didn’t care what it cost.
You were whole again. Everything else could burn.
That night, curled in his arms, his lips soft against your temple, you drifted off with a smile.
But somewhere deep inside, one thought pierced through your haze of joy.
"You’re the better half of Jason Grace, right?"
You feel fine. Better than ever, even.
So what, exactly, did she take?
