AN: Hey guys! So I know that a lot of people were confused about last chapter, and we're really sorry about that! So I went back and edited it, and this is like a major pain for you all probably, but if you were really confused, I'd maybe recommend just taking a look at it really quickly, or something. So so sorry! Otherwise, if you're confused anyway, you can always shoot me or Sister Grimm a PM, and we'll explain it all to you! In other news, I'd just like to take a little time to thank everyone so much for reviewing. It really makes our day. Seriously. You are all ultra uber amazing!

Music:
Watchman, What is Left of the Night? - Greycoats


Chapter 7:

Anything

By Music6592 and Sister Grimm Erin

"Can't this van go any gods-damned faster?" Zoë shrieked, after half an hour of enduring stop and go traffic, potholes, and gas refills- they should have called the Gray Sisters' cab. She could feel Joshua's pulse slowing, his skin growing feverish; see his eyes rolling furiously beneath their sallow lids.

"No, it can't, Zoë," Phoebe snapped, although she pushed the gas pedal harder. "Do you have any idea how much weight this jalopy is carrying? And it's not exactly fresh off the freaking lot. We'll be there in, like, twenty minutes." The van barreled off the highway exit ramp and onto a bumpy dirt road, the trees overhanging threateningly as if they were vultures waiting to descend upon the mortal's cadaver, although he was not yet dead. The demigods fell onto each other in a flurry of circling elbows and legs when the car hit ruts in the road. The younger kids stifled giggles when they ended up in their friends' laps, seeing a frantic Zoë hunched over a tiny-seeming Joshua.

"Just hang on," the girl whispered, panic-stricken. He couldn't die, he just couldn't. Zoë knew of countless demigods who had gotten killed by roaming monsters. She'd heard of innumerable half bloods that simply vanished from their quests, never to be seen again, and although no one could bear to say it, everyone knew that these unfortunate kids had probably been killed. Zoë herself had destroyed more monsters than most, and undoubtedly faced violence that would have been shocking for someone twice her age.

And still, she had never been faced with the death of someone dear to her, her friends had never been on a quest, and they were all too good at fighting to get themselves killed carelessly. She tried to console herself by repeating the sheer improbability of Joshua's death, because since no one she knew well had died, in her mind, it followed that this boy certainly couldn't. People didn't just die like that. All of a sudden, just gone, without any warning or justice. They couldn't. Could they?

When Joshua became even stiller and his fevered moaning stopped, Zoë felt the first tendrils of guilt wrap around her thoughts. This is all your fault, some sinister part of her whispered, if you had been more careful this wouldn't have happened. You should have just let him gone home with his mother, but no, you had to be selfish and keep him all to yourself. That Hydra was probably aiming for you, not him.

A strangled sob escaped her lips, torn from a raw throat. He was fading fast. What was the last thing Joshua had said? She desperately tried to remember. Whatever it had been, Zoë began to think that it might have been his last words.


There wasn't any light. No sensation of floating above his body, no rush of endorphins to his brain, no sudden and complete understanding of the human condition, of the universe, of interconnectedness. There was just pain, the throbbing of a wound on his ribs, and fire creeping slowly through his veins. And Joshua vaguely felt cheated; dying in the dark while in horrific pain was a pretty sucky way to go. His adventure hadn't even started yet. It would have been one thing to die heroically in battle. If you're sailing on the Titanic, you may as well live it up in first class.

And Joshua was, well, pissed off. At the very least he was annoyed, because it is a fact that people dying of Hydra poison generally do not have the energy to be properly pissed off. This is pathetic. Epic fail of a death, he thought, the sentiment slowly moving through the murky waters of his mind.

And with that, he slipped into unconsciousness, and glimpsed the burning bright light just for an instant.


Joshua slumped suddenly in his protector's arms. His heart was still beating, but just barely.

"What do I do?" Zoë gasped.

"Just keep pressing to the wound to stop the blood flow," Leon replied, holding his sister's hand in a fruitless attempt to comfort her.

Suddenly Azrael swore vehemently. A terrible thought had just occurred to him.

"What?" Zoë demanded.

"Uh, it's nothing," the boy protested. Poor kid, he thought of Joshua, he's got no chance. Shit, I may not have been too fond of him, but I sure as Hades didn't want him to die.

"Tell me now," she commanded through gritted teeth.

There was no arguing with Zoë when she got like this, Azrael knew. So he sighed and replied, "We can't give him nectar. It'll kill him."

He was right, Zoë realized. Mortals couldn't eat the food of the gods; they would instantly die. Grasping at straws, she thought for a moment that maybe her cousins in Apollo cabin could do something, but she knew that nothing short of a miracle could stop Hydra poison. Half bloods died from Hydra attacks all the time, sometimes even after they had ingested nectar and ambrosia.

Zoë's last hope was dashed against the rocks, and she could barely feel Joshua's pulse. Gods, what can I do? she pleaded desperately. They won't be able to do anything, it's in his bloodstream, and he just can't die…

The van jerked to a sudden halt as countless demigods scrambled out. In the confusion, Zoë hadn't noticed how many of them there were. Her brothers, the Jackson twins, and Phoebe were all there of course, along with two teenage daughters of Hermes who had joined them somewhere along the way. Zoë also caught sight of three unclaimed kids who had also lived in the area. She couldn't believe they had all fit in the van.

Someone dragged her away from Joshua and she screamed, furiously shoving away their rough hands. "Gods, Zoë, we're trying to help," one of the Apollo kids, presumably the one who had grabbed her, said.

She reluctantly took a step back and allowed the demigod healers to carry him across the lawn to the medical cabin. She followed behind them as close as she could without getting in their way, the entire world a mad tumble of fiery lights and harsh sounds and Joshua's burning skin. When the children of Apollo carried the mortal inside and slammed the door on her, Zoë screamed and pounded at it with all her might, and only refrained from clawing at it with her nails when Azrael forced her to stop, pulling her to the ground.

"Look, Zoë, you have to wait," he told her in hushed tones, trying for once, to be sensitive to his sister. "Just leave it to the Apollo kids. They know what they're doing. Just wait."

"Leave me alone," Zoë replied, hunched against the door and pressing on it with all her might, trying to get closer, by centimeters, to Joshua. Azrael looked at her sadly, a look of pity that the girl hated, and then he walked away.

Wait? She thought incredulously, feeling hot tears run down her cheeks. Just sit out here and wait? They don't know what the Hades they're doing; he's a mortal, he-

Then there was someone who popped into the girl's mind. Someone who could heal Joshua. Who was literally the father of all medicine. Who she knew would answer her prayers. Someone she was related to.

Apollo.

Zoë's musings were interrupted by Phoebe's yells. "Zoë, what the Hades is going on? Is Joshua okay?" Phoebe sprinted up to the cabin.

"They're… working on him, I guess," Zoë whispered. "I don't think it's going well though, they won't let me in."

Phoebe gulped, at a complete loss for words. She had always been there for Zoë in the past, but not ever to console her friend over the death of a loved one (or impending death.) In fact, it had been Zoë who'd had to comfort her in those times.

"I've got an idea," Zoë continued. "I can pray to Apollo. He'll answer me. Hopefully. And he can heal anything, right? I mean, he's the god of healing, for Hades' sake."

"Your perv grandpa?" Phoebe asked incredulously. "Are you sure he'll answer your prayer? What if he's home in Olympus doing… naughty things?"

"I have to try." Zoë's tear stained face was unbelievably determined, her chin locked and jutting forward.

"Well, I'd really rather not hang around while he's here, Zoë," Phoebe said softly, sitting down next to her friend. "I'll stay if you need me to, but—"

"It's okay, I can handle it," Zoë said, nodding at Phoebe encouragingly. Nico's daughter hugged her friend tightly before sprinting into the forest.

Zoë began in a frantic whisper, her voice ragged from crying. "Apollo, shining one, averter of evil, prophet, creator of music, healer. Please save this mortal. Please, grandfather."

At first nothing happened. Then the air in front of her shimmered slightly and the very oxygen seemed thinner, more fragile, as if the slightest movement could rip it into shreds. Luminescence spread gradually, like the microcosm of dawn happening right in front of her eyes, until light splashed over everything, stirring Zoë's hair like a playful breeze.

A ridiculously good looking teen suddenly stood in front of her, his skin perfectly tan and his figure athletic. He grinned and took a step toward the girl who stared at him, shuddering a little in relief. There was only the sound of the grass rustling and a sharp buzzing, as if the air had become super charged by the man's presence.

"Hey grandpa," Zoë said slowly, and Apollo's smile grew to improbable size.

"Zoë!" the god exclaimed, obviously overjoyed. "How are ya?"

"I've been better," she noted wryly, rubbing her reddened eyes. "Look did you get my prayer?" She didn't wait for an answer, but continued, "You just have to heal him. Please, please. You can, can't you?" Zoë asked desperately.

"Well, sure I can. It is me we're talking about here. I'm gonna need something in return though, darling."

The girl stared at him in shock. Something in return? She thought, panicked. I'm his granddaughter, for godssake. What does he possibly want? But she shot back at him, a compulsion as strong as breathing, "Anything."

There was a sickening pause. Zoë's heart sunk into the very soles of her shoes it seemed, as she pondered any number of things the god could ask for. The grass whispered, and she could hear the frantic ministrations of the Apollo kids within the cabin. Somewhere in Camp Half Blood, there were kids laughing, probably meeting their friends for the first time in a year. But all this seemed unreal, like the whole world had ceased to exist in synch with hers.

To some extent, she still couldn't believe that Joshua was hurt, and dying at that. He was so alive. Zoë remembered the way his ears slid up when he smiled. And that smile—cautious at first, with only the tips of his teeth peeking out, until suddenly it broke across his face, wide and exuberant. The things he said, always so polite, almost distant, but once in a while, he let go of all the restraints and blurted out what he really, truly thought. And it was those things that made her blush from the sweetness of it all. She could tell that Joshua cared about people, deeply. He was more empathetic than anyone Zoë had ever met; he didn't just pretend to be sorry for others' problems, he actually felt their pain. And there were fewer layers between the two of them, emotionally, than she had thought was possible.

A sensible person would write it off as puppy love, a crush. Zoë didn't really care what it was. She didn't have any pretenses of them spending eternity together like her mother and father. She didn't even expect a big white wedding, a house with a picket fence, and a couple kids. Zoë just knew that what she had with Joshua, that bond, was something new and exciting and wonderful that she didn't want to ever go away. Only time would tell what happened to them, and she believed that her course with him should just run naturally.

But she needed time for that course to happen, so he just couldn't die.

Zoë whispered again, "Anything."


AN: Cue the dramatic music! In next chapter, we've got a new character! And we find out what Apollo wants! And Phoebe thinks! And... okay, I'll stop giving stuff away.