Chapter Text
On the first day, he was quiet.
A phrase was going around in his head: do you want to see him? It was one of the first things he was asked as soon as he regained consciousness. He thought about it for a while. The answer was... No. He didn't want to see him. He wasn't ready. So he limited himself to using his sickness status and retreated into complete silence.
He tried to eat chocolate pudding, but he almost threw up. He tried to eat an apple, but he almost threw up. Finally, he could eat a single cracker, and it seemed to be enough. He slept. He woke up. He looked at the ceiling, reflective. Breathing was hurting a lot. Living was hurting a lot, and it didn't matter how many medicines, ointments, or ambrosia flavored with carbonara pasta he took. It was just... painful. He knew that the physical pain was bad, but the emotional pain was what was stabbing him in the back. It was okay. He could live with it.
On the third day, he still didn't want to say much. They asked him what had happened. They asked him his version of events. He said he was too tired, which wasn't a lie, so he turned over and fell asleep —, or pretended to.
Sixth day. He almost managed to eat an entire falafel, which someone, for some reason, thought would be an incredible meal for a person who had nearly passed away a short time ago. He didn't mind. He managed to talk, told part of what had happened, and then tried to rest again.
First full week. On the eighth day, in the early hours of the morning, he had a terrible nightmare. He woke up sweating, and crying, with an almost debilitating pain in his chest. He didn't scream. He wondered if he would be too much of a coward if he begged them to talk to him right now , or to them to bring him just for the sake of being with him. He was feeling terrified and alone. He decided that, yes, he would be a coward. He went back into silence. No one had noticed his panic, anyway.
Thirteenth day. The pain was more bearable now, although still very present. He was reading his medical record, curious about how he had ended up in that situation. He had been unconscious for two and a half weeks. He had suffered a fracture in the middle phalanx of his left ring finger, dislocation of the left proximal phalanx, and fracture of the sixth rib. Concussion, bruises, and sharp force injuries. Perforating hemothorax. He put the paper aside when a girl came into the room, wearing jeans, white sneakers, and a green T-shirt. None of that really caught the eye, and yet she was beautiful.
“How are we today?” She smiled. She had been around there two or three times since he woke up, always understanding of his physical and, frankly, mental state.
“Less horrible than yesterday. Certainly much worse than tomorrow.”
“I like your optimism.”
He brushed his hair out of his face, suddenly feeling quite ugly. Normally he didn’t care much about it, but now, with nearly healed wounds, tangled hair, no nail polish, and without his precious eyeliner, he wasn’t exactly appealing. Her expression, however, was solely friendly.
“We were never really friends back then. So when did we- you know?”
Yes, Nico, great way to start a conversation. You’re awesome at that.
“No, we never were. I think I was a little scared of you, to be honest.”
“Almost everyone is scared of me, at least the first time they see me. They hear son of Hades and think of... Some kind of monster that eats little children's souls." He raised his arms weakly. "I mean, gods, why? I'm just a bag of bones."
She started to laugh.
“I wouldn't say a bag of bones, for sure; elegant, maybe. And you're quite popular if I'm being honest. You have several of your friends wanting to see you. Stuart, Lavender, Paulo, and a few others. They're just not here because-"
“Doctor's orders.”
“Doctor's orders. Exactly.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because, according to the doctor's orders, my presence can be peaceful. And, of course, I like you. You know that.”
“Do I need peace? I've been practically silent for almost two weeks.”
“I think that's what worries him.”
He shook his head.
“Agitation is worrying. Peace is worrying. What does he want?”
“The normal you?”
“And what is the normal me?”
She shrugged and raised an eyebrow.
"I think the guy in the other ward knows best, doesn't he?"
Despite everything, he felt his cheeks heat up.
“Maybe.”
A brief silence. She narrowed her eyes.
“Why don’t you want to see him?”
“You’re pretty straightforward, aren’t you?”
“It’s a gift. I’m also great playing mimic.”
“I can’t imagine why.” They smiled. He tried to turn the skull ring, finding only a splint. He contented himself with tapping the spot rhythmically. “Hm, well, it’s complicated.”
“Why?”
"It's a long story."
She pulled a wooden chair from the corner and sat down.
“I have nothing to do today, and I'm an excellent listener. So?”
“You're good at a lot of things, huh?”
“Yeah, I've been finding out.”
He sighed, realizing by the face resting on her hand and the wide, curious look in her eyes that she wasn't going to leave anytime soon.
“Okay, okay. You win.”
...
He told her everything, from the beginning. He just avoided the parts he couldn't say. She was a good listener. She didn't mind when he stuttered, or when he had to stop for half an hour because he needed to rest a little, take pain medication, and eat something (a lemon jelly and a glass of water). She nodded at the appropriate times, made simple comments , and only asked questions when she didn't understand something. It had been a long time since he had talked this much. In fact, he couldn't remember ever having done so; maybe when he was a highly impressionable child with a blatant hyper-focus on mythomagic.
When he finished, she shook her head and said only one thing:
“You still haven’t told me.”
He stared at her, confused.
“What haven’t I told you?”
“Why you don’t want to see him. It doesn’t make sense to me. He likes you.”
Nico sighed and swallowed hard. He felt his face heat up and that feeling of crying threatening again. His voice would come out choked, of course, but he didn’t care anymore:
“Because he must hate me now, for sure.”
“Nico-”
“Didn’t you hear what I did to him? What does my mere presence cause? Look where we are. It’s no mystery. Look around. There’s no way you can’t understand. I don’t know if I’m ready for-”
His voice caught. He felt a hot tear run down his cheek, which he rubbed away without any of the elegance the girl had suggested.
“Nico?”
“Hn?” He had looked away. He didn’t want to say anything else. Damn it.
"You know that one day you'll have to talk, don't you?"
He opened and closed his mouth, his lower lip trembling with the effort to keep from crying. His hot face wasn't helping. Another tear fell. Two. Five. Shit.
"Look... I meant to postpone it."
She took his hand, intertwining their fingers in a brotherly way. They remained silent until Nico calmed down a little. Then his friend asked:
"Has anyone told you how you got here?" He shook his head. "Okay. Then I'll tell you. You fell right on the grass. You were riding Blackjack, and you were unconscious. He was screaming for help, his face dirty with tears, dust, and blood. He was begging for someone to save you . Within seconds, the healers arrived. He was hugging your body tightly, with only one arm. The other was- was broken in a way that- it was so..." She paused, searching for words that didn't come. "You know what? I don't know how he was conscious . I know I wouldn't have been. And when they tried to take him away from you, he screamed even louder. No, please , no , no, no... he repeated it several times. At first, they thought it was the shock, but then he said, I'm stopping the bleeding. He's going to die, don't take me away, for the gods, don't take me away from him."
She sighed and continued.
"Do you know why I had to tell you this? Because, first, you deserve to know. Second, because he deserves you to know . I would say he loves you. A broken arm, broken fingers. He had such a power's exhaustion that he was forbidden to even think about the sea for the next three months. But, still, everything was for you. Gods, I have no idea how, but the guy managed to keep you from dying. It was so intense that, when everything was ready for them to help you, I was called to convince him to leave the room. He needed help too, Nico, and he didn’t want it just because he thought you might die if you weren’t by his side. In your opinion, he hates you for being here. In my opinion, he loves you so much that he was able to come all the way here for you ."
Good. He was crying again, a stifled, desperately silent cry, because she was wrong. Sobbing still hurt. When he could speak, the words came out aimlessly: “I’m in so much pain, feeling like crap, and you make me cry? And you still say you like me.”
She managed a smile.
“Yeah, Nico, I like you, and that’s why I owe you the truth. I feel like we have a lot in common.”
“Just because you’re gay too doesn’t mean we have a lot in common.”
“You helped me a lot with this, you know.”
He tried to roll his eyes . It was hard with so many tears forcing their way down his face.
“I’m so scared,” he admitted in a pained whisper.
"Why?"
"Because you could be right, but you could also be wrong. And if he doesn’t hate me, I feel like he should. If he hates me, I’ll lose someone who…"
"Someone who you love?"
He shook his head.
"This is hard. I can’t do it. You know I can’t."
"It’s okay, Nico."
"It’ll feel so real. If I say it out loud."
"I know. It’s okay. This is something you two have to work out together. And you’ll do it tomorrow because I can’t stand you stuck this way anymore."
"I feel like I’m ten again."
"I think you’ve grown up a lot since then, dear. I’ll get you a hairbrush and some nail polish." She winked knowingly. "I’ve known what you’ve been thinking all along."
"So you can read minds too?"
"I’m great at a lot of things."
...
Percy Jackson stormed into that room.
"You!" It was the first thing he said. He looked furious, pointing at Nico's face. "How dare you? You have no right, you lil brat- you- you !"
He let out a sound that sounded like a frustrated growl. His arm, which wasn’t in a very well-placed sling, flailed in the air. He had his handsome face adorned with a haircut that was a little too big for his usual standards.
"I thought- four weeks! More than four damn weeks. Holy shit. Argh ! And you still have a- holy shit . And you have the fucking audacity to say, ah, he hates me and yadayadayada . Look, I love you, but- oh, fuck you . Fuck you. What’s with that, Niccolo di Angelo? If you want to fuck me, all you have to do is say it. Fuck."
It was comical and enviable how Percy never planned anything at all. Nico had the feeling that he just opened his mouth and said whatever came to mind, always, and to anyone’s face.
"Percy-"
"Shut up. Just shut up. Fuck you, seriously. I thought you were freaked out by what I did, and then she comes to me and says, 'No, he just thinks you hate him and stuff.' Like, what the actual fuck? That's so confusing! I wanted to punch you for being so clueless, but I also wanted to give you a hug and ask if you're okay, because I'm worried and really pissed off. Seriously. Holy shit. What was all of this, huh?"
"I thought-"
"No, you didn't. If you had, Nico, if you had thought for thirty damn seconds, you would have called me and we would have solved this together." He rubbed his face. "But I won't blame you, because, honestly, if I were a well-adjusted person, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. Or we would have had it months ago. But I'm stupid. And self-criticism is important, I think."
He pulled out the wooden chair and sat down. He took a deep breath, looking away and tapping his foot on the floor. Nico also admired his ability to be so intelligent and rational, against all expectations. I mean, if you didn't know him well, you would just see a tall, goofy guy who had trouble remembering where he kept his own apartment keys, but Nico knew he was much more than that.
"Are you... Better?" He ventured.
"Uh-huh."
"Okay."
"I missed you."
"Yeah. I guess... I can tell. I'm sorry. I just assumed that- you know."
"It was either here or you would die. No, this again? No way, man. No way."
"It’s not just that."
"I know. That’s why we have to decide together. You can’t decide for me."
Nico felt his face heat up once more and involuntary tears threaten to run down his cheeks. How ridiculous. It seemed like the nickname Ghost King should be changed to Crybaby. Was he really that weak?
"Uh, okay." he said in a choked, low voice. "One moment."
Percy leaned forward, his expression becoming worried.
"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay. Don't cry."
"I'm sorry, I know that- you know, I know I'm wrong, I just- I don't have the right, but- I'm sorry . Gods. What did I do?" A huge need to explain himself rose in his chest and then exploded. His breathing began to get labored, which pressed against his aching chest. The tears began to fall again without his permission. It was two weeks of guilt streaming down his lips frantically. Two? No, no, much more than that: months . "Look at you. Are you okay? You're hurt because of me. Damn it."
"Nico, I'm okay, I-"
"You're not okay!" The boy exclaimed. Could no one see that? Only he could see the extent of the damage, how much Percy should resent it? "She said your arm was broken in a way she couldn't even explain to me, Percy! And that's my fault!"
"Nico-"
"If it weren't for me getting involved in your life, you wouldn't be like this, you wouldn't be here, and I'm so, so sorry, I'm so-"
"Please-"
The boy started to gasp for air; he couldn't. Did his hands always shake like that? He ran his fingers over his face.
"What I did was so unfair, but they said so many things could go wrong, you know? And then- then they told me that again, and I had to keep going! I kept going. I was scared because I had to help, and I- gods , what then? What did I do to you? Make you forget, I'm so stupid, why did I believe it would do any good? I'm so sorry. And worse, it didn't just hurt you! Mr. Jansen and everyone else." He sobbed, putting his hand on his chest as his shoulders shook violently. " I was the mistake. It was me. It's my fault, it's all my fault, and I didn't want you to have to face me, I'm sorry-"
"Nico, please . Come on. Breathe." Percy gently intertwined his fingers with his. His calloused hand held him firmly, bringing him back to the real world. Percy was warm as tropical seawater, a very different feeling from his friend. His voice was soft now: "I don't hate you. I hope you don't hate me. In fact, I still love you, okay? I was just a little angry now, but it's over, and that's okay, you messed up, but I messed up a lot too. And you know what? You keep saying I'm screwed, but you're twice as bad. You almost died, man. Almost died. Do you have any idea how scared I was? My broken arm was nothing. Power's exhaustion? Nothing . You saved all those people, Nico, and you saved Mr. Jansen. You almost killed yourself to do something good for everyone. So, please, it's okay. Things will work out. We just need to talk, okay? So- okay. Let's breathe. Slowly. That's it."
Nico tried, of course. Percy waited patiently until he calmed down. He offered him tissues, a glass of water, and, once again, his hand. The boy accepted them all willingly.
"Why are you being so nice to me? I ruined your life." Nico mumbled between weak sobs. He felt ridiculous, and it was something much deeper than his outward appearance. It was pure shame.
"You ruined my- Nico, honestly, it takes a lot more effort to ruin my life. I'm all fucked up. You can't tear down what's already on the ground, man."
"Quite optimistic."
"Thanks." They were silent for a long time, Percy's gaze distracted, directed at a random wall. Nico tried to focus on the real world through the light affection he received.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked Percy.
"Do you really want to know?"
"Yes."
Jackson gave a short smile as if he was holding back a joke. "You and I each have one arm. If we joined together , we would be like a Megazord with two arms and four legs."
Nico blinked a few times.
"Seriously? Is that what you have to say?"
"Yep."
They stared at each other. Suddenly, Percy let out a laugh , unable to contain himself any longer, so Nico laughed back, albeit much more subdued. It was a mix of joy, relief, pain, adrenaline. But it was all right: it hadn't been the end of the world, really.
"I was thinking... we're terrible at this stuff, you know?"
"Communication?"
Percy grimaced.
"I was going to say more about dealing with human beings. But, yeah, communication sums it up pretty well."
A shake of the head.
"What happened? There."
"The building almost collapsed. There was one death and four people injured. Cookie, Mr. Hans's little dog, died. He inhaled a lot of smoke. I take comfort in the fact that he was quite old, I think he was seventeen. Of the injured, nothing too serious. They'll be fine. Mr. Jansen, he... He suffered a concussion, bruises, and a second-degree burn on his leg. My mother said he wouldn't have any after-effects, he's a strong man, but- well. Yeah. That's it. That's what happened. We lost our apartments. I mean, my apartment, because you, uh, left (I'm sorry about that). But as far as I know, they had fire insurance, so somehow it wasn't as bad as it could have been."
"And the cause?"
"You'll like this: this time it wasn't a troubled teenager or a gas leak. Arson, orchestrated by an arson gang, that's what they said on TV. Erica was in the paper, you know? Screaming about juvenile delinquents and fire. It was a big moment for her."
The son of Hades smirked.
"I imagine so."
...
On the fifteenth day, Nico felt he should tell the whole truth.
Percy was in the infirmary, much to his friend's delight and the healer's displeasure outside.
"Did you find out?"
"What?"
"The names." Percy nodded.
“I hope so.”
“Then tell me.” He saw Jackson hesitate, looking away and biting his lower lip.
“You don’t need this right now, man. You’re hurt, and tired. We can just… stay here. Watch a movie, I don’t know. You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m fine, and I mean it.”
“Please. I- I need to tell you the truth. You have to know.”
A few seconds passed before he said something.
“Okay, then.” He licked his lips and took a deep breath. “Nico Di Angelo, Sally Jackson, and Chiron?”
Nico sighed in relief, feeling the weight of the oath lift from his body, like something physical.
“What do you already know?”
Percy ran a hand through his already messy hair.
“I guess the basics. Chiron thought I was going crazy. You’re, well, a spy, and my mom knew things you guys needed.”
“That could sum it up, yeah. But that's certainly not all."
Their eyes met.
"Yeah."
Nico nodded thoughtfully.
"It's time you heard this story from my point of view, isn't it?"
...
The war was over.
It left behind everything a good war leaves: destruction, uncertainty, fatigue, and bodies. Everyone took on their role. Nico's, of course, was to deal with the last part.
"I don't know if I can do it."
"Of course you can." The boy pressed his lips together in a straight line. His crossed arms and tapping foot revealed much more than he would have liked.
"Will, look at him. He hadn't even cried yet. He's been staring into nothing for days. If I ask him to say some words, I'll end up having to say it . He won't move."
"Then say the truth."
"What truth? That I was there when she was grotesquely murdered by a seven-foot monster? That I harbored a ridiculous, unfounded anger toward one of the coolest, most amazing girls in this camp? That I only got to actually meet her a short time ago, and that I regret so much not having done it sooner? That I'm a huge idiot and she was wonderful?" Will gave a sideways smile.
"Yeah, Nico. Something like that."
"Easy to say."
"And hard to do, I agree. But you can do it. You always can."
Will looked at him like that. As if Nico was capable of anything, a look of pride and love that gave him courage and butterflies in his stomach. He felt his heart race with anxiety, embarrassment, and passion, all at once. He took the initiative to hold the other's warm and soft hand, watching the tanned tone against his own. He still didn't have the courage to kiss Will like that, in public, but the son of Apollo didn't mind. So it was okay.
"Okay. Okay. I... I need to go."
"I know."
"I'm going to-"
"Nico?"
"What?"
"Can I give you a hug?"
"You, uh- you can. Of course."
Will gave him a bear hug. Nico was always amazed at how warm he was, like a summer breeze. Hugs were still difficult: Di Angelo felt trapped and didn't really know what to do with his own arms. Will didn't mind either. They said goodbye and Nico left the comfort of the shade of the tree they were under. There was work to do. He gave a painful sigh when he saw the owl shroud, but nothing compared, of course, to the pain of calling Percy Jackson to say a few words. Percy had no words. Nico knew the feeling all too well.
...
A year passed quickly.
Recently, he discovered that, in fact, he could even be popular. Since he didn't exactly have a home or family to return to, he was one of those who lived permanently at Camp Half-Blood. Thus, he developed some friendships.
The people at the Aphrodite cabin liked him, for some reason. It had all started with Lavender Johnson. A few months ago, he was sitting near some bushes that cast a comfortable shade, observing the landscape and the nearly empty training field. Suddenly, that girl in ballet flats, red tights, a black skirt, and a sweater entered the space carrying a sword that was clearly too heavy for her build. She seemed very frustrated about something, banging the blade on the ground and making funny grunts, because she couldn't even lift it. He pondered for a few moments whether or not he should intervene. Finally, he decided that it couldn't hurt. He got up from the lawn with a few pats on his pants and approached.
"Is everything okay?" The girl let out a sharp scream and dropped her sword (a terrible move in a fight, by the way. Here's a tip: if you're in danger, avoid dropping your weapon!). It was a pretty common thing to happen because he was terrible at starting conversations, but great at being silent. People usually don't wait for a skinny young man to step out of the shadows to ask if everything is okay. He kind of forgot about that. He was more used to the dead, in general.
"Damnit!"
"Uh, sorry," he stammered. "It's just that sword, you know, seemed to be beating you up. I thought I could help." She stared at him. Her false eyelashes blinked slowly at him. There were dried tears on her round face.
"You're that kid, aren't you? Nico, I think. The son of Hades." She sniffed.
"Well, yes. But I swear I don't bite." She laughed. He wasn't very used to being funny.
"I'm Lavender. Daughter of Aphrodite."
"That's why the clothes?" A quick self-inspection, as if she’d forgotten how well-groomed she was.
“Yeah, I guess so. What about you? I mean, son of Hades and black clothes.” He shrugged.
“I don’t really care, but the orange shirt… You know? It’s not my style.”
"I know. I look horrible in orange." She ran her hand over her face, still watching Nico. "You would be pretty with something stronger. Cargo pants, dark shirts, maybe a turtleneck. A pair of Dr. Martens? That's your style. Some rings."
He shook his head. Nico had never paid enough attention to himself, and he had no idea what suited him and what didn't. Honestly, he couldn't even tell if he was attractive. He kind of realized he wanted to be attractive . Before he could think about it any further, he offered:
"If I teach you how to fight with a sword, will you teach me how to choose better clothes?"
Lavender thought for a moment.
"Sounds like a great idea."
She had broken up with her boyfriend, a jerk named Kurt, and was devastated. He had dumped her for a daughter of Ares with a terrible fashion sense . Lavender's revenge would be to learn how to fight, showing that in addition to her impeccable fashion sense, she also had impeccable skills in battle. Nico didn't quite see how that was revenge, but sometimes revenge doesn't make much sense. He knew that. So he started helping her. Soon, at least three more children of Aphrodite were asking him for lessons with a variety of weapons. He wasn't good at all of them, but it wasn't that hard to explain at least the basics. In exchange, he received cookies, fashion tips, clothes, and the biggest gossip from Camp Half-Blood firsthand. The children of Aphrodite introduced him to some of Hermes' children, Hypnos, Iris, and Ares. And so, from one day to the next, he was known not for being scary, but for being a really cool friend , according to Lavender.
Other than that, Nico was studying. A lot. Every day, any time he could. He decided he wanted to go to college to study history, and he wanted to do it at a normal university. No SPQR college: he needed to get to know the real world better. To do that, he had to complete his basic studies, which wasn't easy — he had lost about 70 years of knowledge, after all.
It seemed that all these things weren't making Will very happy. Nico didn't quite understand why, but he knew that their first fight had been about Paulo. Paulo was a Brazilian camper, very friendly and very handsome. He wasn't really Nico's type (he had a certain preference for blonds, he couldn't deny it), but that didn't seem to matter. According to Will, they were too close. Nico had no interest in the guy, and he couldn't understand what too close meant; he just found Paulo funny. It was hard to explain that. It was hard to explain most things.
After a while, studying was consuming him . Will was consuming him. It was so much that Nico, even so observant, almost didn't notice that someone was missing from the camp. He didn't know who, but someone had disappeared in the last few months. He decided to put it to the back of his mind with a simple shrug. He continued to focus on his studies.
...
His peace didn't last long, maybe three months or less.
He was in his cabin, studying as usual and trying not to think about the last argument he had with Will (also as usual) when someone knocked on his door. Nico got up, suspicious, because it was two-thirty in the morning, and no one knocked on his door at two-thirty in the morning. The boy got up from the bed, sword in hand, and opened it. He was surprised to realize that this wasn't a potential enemy —, at least he hoped not.
"Mr. D?"
"Hey, kid. Uh, Nathan, right?"
"Uh, Nico. Niccolo, to be more precise-"
"Okay, okay, okay. Chiron wants to see you in his office. He said you'd be awake."
"Okay. Sure." Nico scratched his head. "Did he say why, sir?"
"No, and I have no idea. But it can't be good. So, shall we go?" He smiled without any intentions to do so. "I don't have all night. A nymph and a diet coke is waiting for me in my room and you're in my way."
“(The time's always right to fix what's wrong)
Time is always right in past tense
Avoiding is my newest obsession
Started with the right intentions
But left 'em on the shelf”
- What’s wrong – Half-Alive