"Now, since you've agreed to this I don't want to hear any complaining from you, di Angelo," the blond informed me as he escorted me to the small cot that would be my bed for the next insufferable days. I was fuming at myself, how in the name of my father had I been talked into staying for three days in the infirmary with William Solace! I had willingly agreed to be poked and prodded by the annoyingly friendly and equally cute son of Apollo! "Nico, did you hear what I said?" he asked giving me the breathtaking smile. Gods I hated him.

"I heard you," I snarled at him as I plopped onto the cot. I groaned as my body made impact with the not so soft cot. I was sorer than I had thought. Will stood over me, looking at me as if I had something growing out of my head. I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Will's eyes grew narrow; his brows grew closer as he scowled at me. I had seen a lot in the last few years that would have given the bravest mortal a heart attack, none of which truly terrified me, save Tartarus, but the look Will Solace was giving me made me slightly nervous. "I did not guilt you into coming here to lie around and sleep, di Angelo. I want to make sure you're okay. And that means having a look at your wounds, properly stitching up the scratch marks that the werewolf made, and seeing that you get the proper nutrition."

I rolled my eyes. Will pulled up a stool and took a look at my arm. I watched as he examined every inch of my arm, his tanned fingers lightly tracing over my pale skin, over the dark red slashes that had been poorly stitched. He sighed heavily.

"What's the damage, Doc?" I asked half-heartedly. His beautiful blue eyes met mine. I felt blood rush to my cheeks, I wanted to turn my head, but I could pull my eyes away from his.

"Nico," he said with a heavy voice. "The wounds on your arm are severely infected. And if my suspicions are correct so are the rest along the other parts of your body. I'm going to have to clean them," he said as he got up from the stool and walked over to the cabinet. He pulled out a few glass bottles, filled with various liquids. He then took out several towels and walked over to a sink. He turned the facet on and let the water run. He walked over to me and pulled me up.

"What are you doing," I asked as he moved to grab the bottom of my shirt.

"I have to clean the wounds somehow, Death Boy," he said with a smile. I rolled my eyes,

"If I remember correctly, I asked you to not call me that," I told him with a snarl. He shook his head and smiled.

"I'm sorry, I'll try to refrain from calling you that." When he succeeded in taking off my shirt he gasped.

"Nico, I've seen a lot in my years…I don't understand how you're alive." He said this with nothing but concern in his voice. I looked over at him; his eyes told me he was deeply concerned. I felt uncomfortable with the way he was looking at me. He turned his head to the sink, and noticed the steam that was coming out of it. He walked back over to it and placed a bowl under the water, collecting it. He walked back over to the cabinet where the glass bottle where. He wheeled a table from under the cabinets and placed the bowl, towels and bottles onto it. He walked it back over to me. He grabbed one of the glass bottles, the one with the aquamarine liquid inside. He unscrewed the top and began to pour some of the strange liquid into the bowl. The inside of the bowl began to glow a brilliant aqua color, illuminating his face. He placed a towel into the bowl and then rang it; draining the excess blue water back into the bowl. He walked over to me, apprehensive, but not in the way most people stopped in apprehension when they came towards me; it almost seemed like he was dreading what was coming.

"This might hurt a little," he informed me. I rolled my eyes.

"I've been to Tartarus and back, Solace. I think I can handle a little water. He nodded, but I could see the doubt in his eyes. He came closer; I could feel his warm breath on me. He lowered his arms and pressed the warm towel onto my chest. I howled in pain. Will seemed to have been expecting this.

"I'm sorry," he said in a whisper. "But this will clean the wounds, and prevent the infection from entering into your blood stream, if that happened we might have to amputate."

I hadn't known just how serious this was. Will pressed the towel to the other parts of my body, each time I jumped in pain and moaned. And each time he's tell me he was sorry. I knew he hated to see me in pain, not because I was especially important to him, but because he was a healer. After what seemed like hours of the agony, Will walked away and threw the bloodied towel into a red trash bin. He walked back over to me, grabbing another bottle; this one had a wicked looking green color inside. He sat on the cot, his eyes softer. "This," he said putting the bottle in my face, "is a potion. It will help you sleep and keep nightmares of any kind away." I looked at his face. It puzzled me why he looked so concerned, why he had apologized every time in winced in pain. Was this his normal actions when he dealt with patients? Was I wrong? Was what he told me earlier; was his concern with my wellbeing a sign that maybe I meant something to him? The moment the green liquid touched my lips I began to feel tired. My eyelids grew heavy and I soon felt them close. For the first time in a long time, I had a decent nights rest. It wasn't months later that I found out that Will had stayed by my side all night, holding my hand and singing softs songs as I slept.

When I awoke the next morning I half expected to wake up in my own bed back in my cabin. But I found that I was indeed in the same cot, surrounded by Apollo children in white and green scrubs. I looked to my right where Will was sitting in a chair, smiling at me. I groaned.

"You morning people disturb me," I told him as I yawned. He chuckled and placed a tray in my lap.

"I have been waiting for you to wake up for hours," he told me over his shoulder as he walked towards a small table in the back of the room. He brought back with him a plate of food. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, grapefruit slices, what looked to be whole wheat toast and a glass of milk. He smiled as he placed the plate and glass of milk onto the tray.

"Oh," he said snapping his fingers. "I almost forgot." He pulled a small flask out of his pocket and also a small red rose. He filled the flask with warm water and placed it on the other side of the tray, rose inside. I looked up at him, giving him my best I hate you, and everything you stand for glare, but he didn't flitch. He smiled. "Nothing but the best for my favorite patient," he said as he walked back to the chair. He sat down and looked at me, smile still on his tan face.

"Don't you have something better to do than watch me stuff my face?" I asked him. He pulled a fork from out of his pocket and handed it to me,

"Nope," he said while popping the "p". I rolled my eyes and grabbed the fork from him and began to scurf down the food. Will watched me eat, almost like he was studying me, my eating habits. I guess he sensed my discomfort as he watched me. "I'm just making sure the food sits well with you, normal the sleeping potion I gave to you last night makes most sick—but you just never cease to amaze me Nico." I didn't look at him; I felt the blood rush back to my pale cheeks.

"Seriously Solace, don't you have other patients to tend to?" I asked with a mouthful of eggs.

"No, my siblings are tending to the few we have left, and as I said you're my top priority. Not many people survive what you've been through, in fact I know of none, so you are assigned the very best healer to tend to you!" The smile was back.

I groaned and continued to eat.

"What am I supposed to do all day?" I asked as the thought occurred to me. "I can't just lay here and let you look at me like I'm some kind of animal in a zoo."

Will's smile got bigger, if that was even possible.

"I'm glad you brought that up, Death Boy."

"Don't call me that!"

"Hush, it's not polite to eat with your mouth full."

I opened my mouth wide and started to chew obnoxiously so he could see the food in my mouth. Will rolled his eyes and leaned over the chair to pick something up. In his hands was a worn book, the front cover torn, the bindings nearly coming undone.

"What's that?" I asked pointing to the book with my fork. Will looked at the book in his hand and then back at me.

"Oh this," he said with a smug smile, "this is a book. There are words on paper that make a story."

"I know what a book is you moron!" I snapped back at him. He laughed. "I meant what is the book called?"

"Harry Potter," Will said.

"Who's that?"

"That—is what you're about to find out!" He cleared his throat. "Chapter One, the boy who lived…"

"Wait you're going to read the book to me!" I asked almost offended.

"Yes," he said bluntly. "It will help pass the time for both of us. Now where was I? Oh yes, Chapter one, the boy who lived…"

For the next four hours Will read to me. The book was about a boy wizard, who at the age of one survived an assassination attempt on his life by the darkest wizard who ever lived with nothing more than a lightning bolt shaped scar. His parents had not been so lucky; they had been killed trying to protect their son. Harry was forced to live with his mother's evil sister and her horrible family; who were mortals or muggles. It wasn't until his eleventh birthday that he discovered his true identity, about his parents, and that he was to attend the best magic school there was, Hogwarts. The book fascinated me; the small boy obsessed with magic who I thought had died along with Bianca was still alive after all. Will made voices for the characters, doing his best girly voice whenever Hermione spoke, and his best dark deep voice whenever Professor Snap had dialogue. Will made the story come alive; there was so much passion in his voice when he read. I couldn't help but listen and smile, despite my best efforts not to.

We were at the part where the three were about to play a game of giant Wizard Chess when Will stopped and looked at his watch.

"Oh darn," he said pretending to be disappointed, "seven-o-clock, time to get you some dinner." He got up from the chair and started to walk towards the door.

"What!" I practically yelled. "You can't stop now! We're so close to finding out who's really got the stone!" Will turned and smiled at me, waving the book in his hand.

"I know who's got the stone Death Boy; I've read this book more times than I like to admit." I walked out of the door and made his way down the hall, disappearing.

"YOU SUCK!" I yelled for him to hear. "And don't call me Death Boy!"

Will was gone for longer than I thought it should take for him to get me dinner. I was desperate to finish the story, almost tempted to run do the dining hall and take the book out of Will's beautifully tan hands! Just as I was seriously considering do just that, a blonde girl wearing white scrubs walking into my room. She smiled at me as she picked up my hand and pressed her fingers to my wrist.

"Strong pulse," she said while looking at me. "That's good. Will, will be happy."

"Where is Will?" I asked hoping he was on his way.

"Oh he had to help Jackson and Grace. They were trying to practice their powers on each other in a "Bro-Fight" and now Grace is coughing up water, and Jackson has a lightning shaped scar on his butt." I pictured what Will's face looked like as he had to inspect Percy's butt burn and began to laugh. The blonde girl began to laugh too. "I know I shouldn't laugh, but it is funny! You've got an adorable laugh, Mr. di Angelo." I looked at her like she was crazy. Before I could ask her what she was smoking she smiled again and started talking.

"Will should be back within the hour with your food, he asked me to apologize for his delay." She began walking out when I asked her,

"Have you ever read Harry Potter?" She nodded her head.

"All seven," she said proudly.

Seven! There were seven books.

"Well can you please tell me what happens at the end of the first," I asked trying my best to do an impression of Percy's puppy dog eyes. The girl laughed.

"Nice try, but Will told me that under no circumstances was I to share any spoilers." She walked out of the door and disappeared just as Will had.

"What," I shouted. "What do you mean 'no spoilers!'"

Eventually Will returned, an apologetic look on his face, book in one hand, a plate of food in the other.

"I am so sorry," he said as he rushed over to me. He put the plate of food in my lap. Chicken, mac and cheese, garlic bread and a slice of cake. "Percy and Jason got into a "Bro Fight" and I had to help out. Let's just say I saw a whole other side of Percy Jackson today—one I could've lived without seeing." He smiled and I rolled my eyes.

"Yah, I know. The blonde girl you had checked me out told me. Can we now get back to the story? If I felt like my normal self you'd be running from angry skeletons. Let's see Voldemort do that!" Will laughed and sat back down in the chair, picking up from where he had left off.

After he finished the first book, Will went and got the second one. He read to me until I feel asleep. And in the morning waiting for me was a plate of breakfast, Will and the book. I spent more than three days in the infirmary; I fanned soreness and headaches for an extra week. Just long enough for Will to read me all seven books.