Equinox

Chapter 3 - Nico

All I wanted at this point was a change of clothes.

My fever still hadn't relented two days later. I had to suffer through it all in a tropical shirt with parrots and pineapples on it. I missed my aviator jacket. While transporting the statue (I still have nightmares about the giant statue of Athena crushing me), we had been attacked by Lycoan, the first werewolf. My poor, poor jacket was torn to shreds. Oh, along with my arm. That didn't matter as much to me. I just wanted my jacket back.

Thanks to Reyna's handiwork with stitches, I now looked like Frankenstein's worst nightmare after deciding to go on a tropical vacation. You'd think if she could save my arm, she could save my jacket.

Reyna did not save my jacket.

I sighed, glaring out the window at the lake shores of Camp Half-Blood. Being alone in isolation wasn't abnormal for me; but it was still extremely boring.

The door opened. I pulled the blanket up to my chin. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was. Will refused to leave me alone. I grumbled as he shuffled towards me.

"Hey, dude," he said, tapping my shoulder. I didn't have the energy to snap at him today.

"I'm not your dude," I said, monotone, still not turning to face him. He made an audible grunt of displeasure.

"You didn't try to bite me. You must be feeling pretty bad."

I didn't answer him. The pain in my arm ebbed, causing me to wince. He tried to flip me over to face him, but to his surprise, his hand went straight through, as if I was no more than a shadow. He yelped and backed away.

"Sorry," I muttered, "wasn't focusing."

"You have to focus to take form?"

"Yeah," I said drolly. "Don't you?"

I turned to face him. His arms were crossed as he studied me.

"It was all that shadow traveling, wasn't it? With the statue? It pretty much completely depleted your energy."

"Congratulations, you're officially the last to know. Would you like a trophy?"

He rolled his eyes at my jab. He took my blanket from me, causing me to curl up in a ball.

"What are you doing?" I hissed. "I'm freezing!"

"No, you're fevering."

"That's not a word!"

"Whatever. Lemme see your arm."

I huffed, crossing my arms. He groaned, punching the bridge of his nose.

"Just cooperate, please. You'll be out of here sooner."

Reluctantly, I held out my stitched up arm. He got closer, pulling up one of those rolling stools, like in real doctor's offices.

"Do I have your permission to grab your arm?"

I'm sure I looked surprised. He remembered that I didn't want to be touched without permission? If only everybody else would. I gave him a small nod. He grabbed it gently, sending a chill up my spine. His finger softly traced the stitches in my arm, causing me to wince.

"Does it hurt?" He asked.

"No, I'm cringing in pain for the fun of it."

"Okay, okay, I get it." He dropped my arm and rolled away, towards the cabinets in the opposite corner of the room. After rummaging around for a few moments, he rolled back over. In one of his hands was a bottle of pills; in the other was a childish looking card and a small pack of crayons.

I glared at him. "What are those?"

"Tylenol," he said, setting the bottle, card, and crayons down. "Helps ease pain."

"I know what Tylenol is, stupid." I rolled my eyes. "The... the crayons. What's that for?"

"Oh. Well, I thought you were bored. We usually give these to the younger campers, or campers who don't want to, or can't, communicate verbally. So, perfect for you."

He tossed the small pack of cheap crayons towards me. They landed on my lap.

"Are you kidding me?"

"No." He didn't say any more as he rolled over to the bed, holding the card, a small paper cup of water, and a couple elongated white pills.

"Those things are the size of Alaska, what makes you think I'm going to swallow them?" I hissed, eyes narrowed.

"If you don't swallow them, I'm going to find you a coloring book and hang up every coloring page you fill in on the front wing's walls."

I didn't respond. Will had some really weird threats he liked to pull out of nowhere. I decided I'd take the pills.

"Good," he said as I tossed down the pills. "Now, here's your card."

He handed me the cheesy-looking card, one of the ones with those 'rate your pain 0-10' smiley face charts at the top, and a couple of blanks. He rolled away.

"You must be crazy. I am not doing this."

"I'm quite crazy, actually. Fill out the card."

I sighed, unpacking the crayons. I grabbed the indigo crayon; the color closest to black. If Will hadn't been watching, I probably would have picked a brighter color. But I have a reputation, and I'm not going to ruin it.

"So, emotional pain, or physical pain?" I said, not looking at him. I could feel, however, Will staring over at me with concern.

"Which one's worse?"

"They're both pretty bad, actually. I'll just do it for physical pain, then."

He rolled back towards me. Apparently he really liked his rolly-stool.

"Do you... need someone to talk to about it?"

"No," I said firmly. "No, I'm fine. I'm fine."

He didn't say anything more, but I could tell he was planning something.

I twisted the skull ring on my finger. It was one of my most prized possessions; one of the last things Bianca gave to me. I blinked away tears and picked up the crayon again.

I colored in the 'mild distress' smiley, with the numbers 4-5 underneath it. I filled in the questions with brief answers. Things such as what's your name? What's your favorite food? Favorite color? Best friends? Favorite camp activity? Once I finished, I rested the card on the nightstand and flopped over in the bed. He noticed and rolled back over to pick it up. As he read it, his smile grew.

"Thanks," he said, tucking it into his shirt pocket. "You'll be fine back here. Don't worry."