Okay guys, I hate this chapter but I'm posting it anyway. I feel like it's really bad but maybe you disagree.
Disclaimer: PJO/HoO belong to Rick Riordan.
Re-edited: 2/11/17
Becoming a parent changes a person in a lot of ways. In particular, it gives you a great appreciation for peace and quiet.
I lay in bed next to Annabeth, the two of us chatting in the dark. It was around ten o'clock. Logan had been asleep for a few hours now, having fallen asleep earlier than usual, and we were enjoying it while it lasted.
"What do you think?" Annabeth was asking, "Would you want to?"
"Of course I'd want to," I answered, "Wouldn't you?"
She nodded. "But not right now. I think we should wait a little bit, let Logan get a little older…"
I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her into me. "Then we'll wait," I said simply, "Whenever you want to. You're the one who has to go through all of it. If you want to wait—"
"Percy, this is your decision too. Don't leave it up to me."
"I'm not," I promised, "I agree we should wait. Give it a few more months, another year. However long you want. I'm happy with how things are with Logan. I'm not in a huge rush to change that right now. So just see what happens."
She waited a few seconds to respond. "Are you sure? You're okay with that?"
"Of course."
"Okay. We—" Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by the crying that erupted from the baby monitor on the bedside table. Logan was awake.
It seemed strange that he awake so soon. At fifteen months, he had been sleeping through the night pretty consistently for quite a while. I brushed the thought aside. Logan was only a year old. He was still entitled to waking up every now and then.
Annabeth sighed in the dark. "I'll get him," she said, and separated from me, pulling the blankets back from both of us as she got up. I watched as she walked out of the room.
I listened to the sound of the nursery door opening and Logan's crying softening from the monitor. I could see the picture in my mind; Logan standing up, hands gripping the crib's railing and tears in his eyes, waiting for someone to come get him. Once he saw one of us come in, his crying always stopped and he would wait for his parent to cross to him and get him.
Which is why it was weird now that he wasn't quieting, though Annabeth had surely reached him by now. "Logan," Annabeth's voice crooned softly, growing stronger as she drew closer to the crib where the monitor's receiver was. There was a rustle of fabric as she moved to pick him up. "What's the—" Her voice cut off then. "Oh my gods," she said suddenly, and by the time she called, "Percy! Get in here!" I was already out of bed, making my way quickly to them in the dark.
When I reached the baby's room, Annabeth was standing at the crib, holding Logan to her. "Percy, he's burning up," she said, concern clear in her voice. I looked from her to our son in her arms. It was hard to tell in the dark, but Logan's cheeks did look a little more flushed than usual. I moved closer and put my hand on his forehead. She wasn't wrong. He was warm. Really warm. Way hotter than normal. And he was sweaty. I wasn't an expert in the medical field but Logan had had low-grade fevers in his life. And this was not low-grade.
"Gods," I breathed, in surprise, meeting Annabeth's eyes in the dimness.
"Get the thermometer," she said, "It's in the bathroom." The growing panic in her voice scared me. I took off before she finished giving instructions. I flicked on the hall light on my way to the bathroom and dug through the medicine cabinet. I found the thermometer quickly. When I reached Logan's room again. Annabeth had the still-crying baby stripped down to his diaper.
I crossed to them and put the tip of the thermometer in his ear, He squirmed lethargically away at first but I was successful on the second attempt. The thermometer beeped and I pulled it away. My heart sank at the number displayed. 104.8. That was high. Too high. Logan had been sick before: ear infections, colds, colic; and he'd had fevers from all of those things, but never like this. Never even close to this. That was high for an adult, never mind a barely-toddler.
I met Annabeth's eyes and turned the display toward her. She gasped slightly. "Oh my gods," she breathed, glancing down at Logan before looking at me. "Call your mom," she said, "We need to get him to the emergency room." I nodded and left without another word, inclined to do whatever she wanted. "And get a wet washcloth!" she called after me, "Cold water!"
Cold water, I could do. I grabbed the cordless phone from our room and proceeded to the bathroom to get the cloth, dialing as I went. It was late, probably after eleven by now, but Mom wouldn't care. She'd want to know.
"Hello?" my mom answered groggily on the fourth ring as I grabbed a clean washcloth out of the linen closet.
"Hi, Mom," I said, "Sorry it's so late—"
"Percy?" she said, "What's wrong?"
"It's Logan. He's got a really high fever—"
"How high?" She sounded more alert now. I could hear Paul asking who was on the phone in the background.
"Almost 105," I said, carrying the now-wet cloth back to Logan's room.
"Oh my—"
"I know. We're taking him to the ER. I wanted to let you know."
"We'll meet you there," she said automatically.
"Mom, you don't have to—"
"No, Percy. It's fine. We'll meet you there. Go. We'll see you son."
"O-okay. See you." I ended the call and handed the cloth to Annabeth. She wiped it against Logan's forehead and behind his cried louder and shied away from it. I couldn't blame him. The cool cloth probably felt like ice against his hot skin.
Annabeth looked like she was trying not to cry. This was not normal and she obviously knew it. I grabbed her wrist, steadying her hand and taking the cloth from her. "I'll do it," I said, "Go get dressed. I'll get him ready to go."
She stopped and looked at me, before glancing at Logan again. After a second, she nodded. "Okay. Just, um, bring pajamas, but don't put them on him. Leave him in a diaper. I'll just wrap him in a blanket or something when we go outside. And—"
"Honey," I interrupted gently, "I've got it. I'll take care of him."
She paused and then sighed. "I know. I'm sorry."
"Go get ready. I'll stay with him." She nodded and left me with our sick little boy.
"It's okay, buddy. I know," I said, picking him up and holding him close to me. I rubbed comforting circles on his back. His crying quieted a bit and I decided we might just be okay.
It was nearly midnight by the time we arrived at the hospital. There were a few people already waiting to be seen when we got there, but we were taken right away. Apparently a fifteen month old with a 104.8 fever was just as concerning to them as it was to us.
Ten minutes later, Annabeth sat on a gurney, holding Logan, crying and squirming, as a blond doctor—he'd introduced himself as Dr. Beck—examined him and a nurse took diligent notes. Annabeth met my eyes over our son's dark head, and I saw the same helplessness I felt reflected back at me in hers.
My mom and Paul showed up then. There was really nothing they could do, as the exam room was small and they weren't allowed inside, but neither had any intention of leaving. They wanted an update as soon as it came and would be in the waiting room until one came. Even Paul, who had work in the morning, was determined to stay.
After a few minutes of poking and prodding, Logan was hooked up to an IV and the doctor seemed done with his exam. "I gave him some medication to make him comfortable," he explained, "It will put him to sleep, so don't worry when that happens. I want to run some tests but my first priority is to get his temperature down to a safer range. His lab results will be back within the hour and we'll know more. I'll be back soon to check on him again. If he gets worse, let someone know immediately. In the meantime, try to relax. I'll let you know what's wrong as soon as I do."
Annabeth and I nodded. Dr. Beck smiled. "Don't worry," he said, "As long as we can get the fever down, a little Ambrosia should take care of whatever's causing it."
I started to nod but froze as my brain caught up with my ears. I blinked. Wait a minute… "How do you…?" I asked.
The doctor grinned and held out a hand. "Josh Beck," he said, "Son of Apollo."
For a second, I could only gape at him in shock. Then, smiling, I reached out and shook his waiting hand. "Percy—"
"Oh, I know who you are," Dr. Beck—Josh—said, "I was at camp with you for a bit. If I'm not mistaken, my last year was your first. The summer of the quest for Zeus' bolt, right? That was quite a feat, you know."
I laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, well, I wish I could say my questing days ended there."
"So I've heard. Well listen, I'd love to stay and chat but I do have other patients waiting. I'll stop in again though. I might have put a rush on a certain baby's lab work."
"Thank you," I said genuinely and met Annabeth's eyes, "So much."
"Anytime," he said, still grinning, and walked out of the room. I stared after him for a moment, amazed, maybe for the first time ever, at our luck.
"Thank the gods," Annabeth breathed, visibly relaxing even as she cuddled a now-drowsy Logan. And thought that about summed it up.
Most half-bloods avoided hospitals as much as possible. They just didn't have the appropriate means of treatment for us. Godly food worked better than human medications, and if you were lucky, you could usually walk away with little to no scar at all.
But having a half-blood doctor in our local hospital was a huge relief and I definitely felt better about having Logan in his care. Maybe we'd even get home before morning.
A little over an hour later, Annabeth and I sat in uncomfortable chairs next to a sleeping Logan's bed, dozing ourselves. Josh, as he'd insisted we call him, had been in twice to check on Logan's fever. He had reported that it was coming down steadily and was optimistic that it would come drop down enough that a little Nectar and Ambrosia would be able to do the rest.
I finally managed to convince my mom and Paul to go home after we found out everything was okay. They'd been reluctant, but had conceded to my wishes nonetheless, demanding that I call them the second anything happened, good or bad, and that I would let them know when we left.
The door opened and we jerked upright, more from instinct than real alertness, in time to see Josh walk in.
"Sorry," he said, noting our appearance. He gestured to the clipboard he held. "I've got his lab results back. He has a viral infection. They're common in kids his age. The hgh fever was just his body trying to fight it off."
"So he's alright then," Annabeth surmised tiredly.
He nodded. "The high temperature was the most dangerous thing going on with him. If it had been lower, I'd say your trip here was unnecessary, but I'm glad you brought him. We've given him and his fever's down to 100, which is low enough. I'm going to slip some Nectar into his IV, which should take care of the virus. You should be able to leave soon."
We nodded as one when he finished speaking and Josh, at this sign of assent, crossed the small room to Logan's bedside. From his coat pocket, he produced a much smaller version of an IV bag, this one filled with an unmistakable golden liquid, and hooked it to the tube in Logan's arm.
"This should take about twenty minutes to empty," Josh informed us, "In the meantime, I'm going to go get your paperwork together. You guys should be out of here soon."
"Thank you," Annabeth said.
"'Course."
He turned to leave and when he had gone, I wrapped an arm around Annabeth. She leaned in and rested he head against my shoulder. "You okay?" I murmured.
She nodded against me. "I just want to get Logan home."
"We will."
Half an hour later, Logan was asleep, wrapped in a blanket against my chest as I carried him out of the emergency room. Annabeth followed just slightly behind me. Josh had managed to break away from his other patients long enough to walk out with us.
"Thanks for everything," I told him at the entrance.
"Not a problem," he responded, "I'm just glad Igot you Logan's case and not another doctor. You'd still be in there otherwise, with a fever like that."
"Well we'll have to let you know if any of us is ever here again," Annabeth said.
"Absolutely," he answered with a smile, "I'll gladly pull more strings for you then."
"We appreciate it," I told him.
"No worries. We look out for each other. Plus," he added in a playful undertone, "You kinda saved the world, so…" I chuckled. Annabeth, grinning, rolled her eyes. Josh laughed. "I'm just kidding. I'm happy to do it." His eyes fell on Logan's dark head. "Anyway, you need to get him home and in bed. Make sure he gets fluids and come back and see me if his fever gets high again."
We thanked him again and left finally to take Logan home.
It was after three in the morning as I pulled out of the parking lot. Annabeth dialed my mom's number despite the hour to update them. There were surely waiting up for it. It was a quick conversation and when it finished, she put her cell phone down and starred silently straight ahead, looking exhausted.
"Still want to have another one?" I asked, breaking the silence, "After tonight?"
She looked at me and then glanced at Logan still sleeping behind her. She wore a small smile when she turned back around and nodded. "Do you?"
My response was immediate. "Absolutely."
So I got a ton of requests for a "sick Logan" chapter. I'm not sure if this was quite what you had in mind, but whatever. Hope you liked it anyway.
Review?