ᴾʰᵒᵇᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ [ᴶᵃˢᵒⁿ ᴳʳᵃᶜᵉ]

ακ

ακ. nosocomephobia - fear of hospitals 

"I told you I would always come for you. Why didn't you wait for me?" Aza's eyes flickered restlessly under her closed lids, and she strained her ears - the words sounded familiar to her, like she had heard them a thousand times.

"Well... you were dead." The second voice was softer than the second, and just as familiar. She heard the small breathy chuckle that sounded, and then, "Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while."

"I will never doubt again."

Aza opened her eyes, and they instantly settled on the old, small television that sat on a stained coffee table. A blonde woman with blue eyes lay in the embrace of a man dressed in black, with shaggy blonde hair tied in a small ponytail at the back of his head. "There will never be a need."

"Can't you picture this house without that stupid movie playing?" Aza jumped, turning to see her father sitting on the couch beside her. He was massaging his temples, glaring at the television. "If I have to hear this crap one more time I'm going to kill you."

"It was the only time I was with Mom," Aza's voice was soft, and for a moment she worried she was going to cry in front of her father - her emotions were high, and a thousand questions burned in her mind. Was she dead? "When Nonna, my babysitter, went away, Mom and I would sit together in the living room and watch this." [A/N: I know Nonna means grandmother]

"Next time play something good. Like Saw. Or Texas Chainsaw Massacre."

"I'll try my best."

A silence settled on them for a few moments, and Aza was too scared to ask her father anything. The last thing she remembered was a flashing light, and then a searing pain. What if she was dead? What if... that was it for Aza - what if that was her peak? She wanted to do something more - to prove to the world that she was more than just another demigod.

Aza wondered if she would die nameless on the battlefield. Sure, her friends would carry on her memory for a few years - but how long would she last? In twenty years, when new campers slept in her cabin and learned about the past battles, would they even know her name? Or would they only know that a daughter of Phobos was killed by a giant? Even then, soon her memory would fade to nothing.

"You're not dead, Aza," Her father said after far too long. The tension released her, and Aza sighed in relief. She furrowed her brows, however and asked, "What happened?"

"You fell in battle," Phobos' voice was strained, like he didn't want to accept what had happened. "Had you not understood what I was trying to tell you, you would have died."

"But..." Aza frowned. "I thought I was supposed to defeat Porphyrion? I thought that was my... task? Once fear defeats fear, right?"

"Aza-Everett," Her father's voice had an unnaturally warm edge to it. "you don't have to do anything by yourself. Without you, they could not have done it. But that doesn't mean that you could have done it alone. You have grown into yourself so much over the last week - I am proud of you."

"Where am I right now?"

"You're in the infirmary. Porphyrion hit you with his spear - it would have killed you, had it not been for our blessing. Now you're... well, if you take it from the movie, you're mostly dead. But I assume Apollo's children are talented enough."

"Mostly dead?!"

"You will be fine," Her father assured. "I assume."

"You're not reassuring. Can I ask you questions?"