Hey! Im glad I conveyed Reyna well. To me, she never seemed to be annoyed by Octavian, per se. She always seemed to know how to work around him, in a manner of speaking. She wouldn't exactly ignore him, but she wouldn't address his solutions either.
And, sometimes, she actually did considee his solutions, and actually agreed with him (once, I think).
I also wanted to give a real quick shout-out to "RandomFanPerson", because YES, that's exactly what I was going for, THANK YOU.
Also, to "Valkyrie Kane", for assuring me that I had Reyna's character down well, because, as I'm sure every writer can relate to- I was afraid I'd gotten her wrong.
And- last one, I promise- shoutout to "JasonGraceforever": the bluntness and abruptness of your review was very appreciated. It made me laugh, and I'm still grinning at it xD
At last, onto the story
. . . Let me know if I got him right.
Percy had only gone to the Big House to check on Chiron and Reyna, to make sure that little gremlin of an augur hadn't hurt them.
He'd been trying for days to get in, but they always made sure to keep the doors locked (despite Percy's multiple attempts to pick them), and Will had insisted vehemently that Percy not go in.
He saw why, now.
He saw why, finding Octavian curled up limply just past the threshold of the infirmary, shiverng and unconscious.
He saw why, when he realized that (now) the only recognizable thing about the miserable form on the floor was the stringy blonde hair, and even that was beginning to fade.
He hesitated, torn between rage and compassion, as he often found himself.
His fingers brushed over Riptide, sitting readily in his pocket.
Octavian had tried to conquer both camps. He had helped Gaea.
Percy could kill him.
Right here. Right now.
Octavian would be utterly at his mercy.
But.
Octavian was only eighteen. He was still a camper. He still had an entire life to live.
But Leo didn't.
But he had promised Annabeth he wouldn't be merciless, wouldn't be reckless anymore. Never again.
Annabeth wouldn't want this.
He crouched beside Octavian, grasping the augur's wrist, the skin burning with a strange sort of vengeance.
A pulse fluttered haphazardly beneath his fingertips.
Good, Percy thought. Wanted to think.
Then Octavian was blinking awake, drawing sharp breaths as a whine escaped his blue-tinted lips.
Blue, Percy mused with something between mirth and a vague pang of concern. So Octavian wasn't getting enough oxygen, enough blood flowing through him.
That would explain why Chiron had looked almost terrified when Jason and him had first hotly inquired why the augur was recieving medical attention. The kind centaur was afraid that Octavian would lose too much blood to survive.
Octavian whined again, like he knew someone was in the room with him, and he didn't want them to know he was in pain.
He was in pain, Percy realized. Of course he was in pain.
He had to get him off the floor.
He shook Octavian's shoulder, trying to rouse him to lucidity, "We need to get you up."
Octavian paused a moment, breath slowing a little, like he was trying to connect Percy's voice with his face. He must have remembered, because in the next moment he was gasping and curling in tighter about himself, then crying out and straightening.
A hoarse, weak excuse for a voice scraped out of his throat, "Please, please, I'm sorry. I just wanted water." His arms inched upwards in a sad attempt to shield himself.
And how ironic it was, Percy thought, that he, the son of the sea god, would find his enemy pliant on the hard floor, begging for water.
"Octavian," he called gently (as gently as he could with rage still burning in his heart). "It's alright. Let's get you into the living room. I can get you some water."
Octavian seemed to be trying (in vain) to contain his panic now, his breath picking up until he was gasping and wheezing, and Percy was surprised to hear how painful it sounded. Just to breathe.
But he couldn't struggle when Percy hooked his hands under his arms and pulled him into a fireman's carry, like he'd watched Will do many a time before (especially with Nico).
It was a short walk to the living room, but the whole time Octavian is breathless and racked with harsh coughs and violent shudders, making it near immposible for Percy to ignore the growing pit of sympathy in his gut.
He tries to take comfort in the fact that Octavian is only half-aware of anything around him at the moment, and that Percy still stands by his opinion that Octavian deserves at least some of what he's gone through since Gaea's defeat.
Once they get to the living room, he deposites Octavian (almost) gently onto the couch, draping a blanket over him before making his way to the adjoining kitchen.
By the time he comes back- water in one hand, ibuprofen in the other (he doesn't know if it'll help, but it's worth a shot)- Octavian has dozed off again, curled into a loose, trembling ball.
He's facing the back of the couch, head and knees and arms pressed into it like he was actively trying to disappear, even in sleep.
Placing his items on a nearby table, he rolls Octavian onto his back, feeling a dim pang of guilt when Octavian cries out, his entire profile stiffening in pain.
Percy quickly rolled him back over, lifting the augur's shirt carefully.
Hell.
He'd forgotten about Octavian's injuries; Chiron hadn't been exaggerating.
He can see the lines of the stitches even under the bandages, which- he realizes- really need to be changed.
And Percy can recognize an infection when he sees one, from its likeness to Annabeth's knife wound in the Second Titan War, compared to which Octavian's looks somehow worse.
So he runs back for bandages, then carefully sits behind the augur, looking for the best place to start.
He finds an opening near Octavian's seventh rib, and begins to pick away at it. Never has he been so tested in self-control and self-awareness.
He thinks about leaving the bandages on, letting it infect the wound until it can't be fixed, leaving Octavian outside, on the ground, letting him fester in and become the pain he's carried around for all this time.
But he shouldn't.
It's not right.
And it infuriates him that it's not.
He wants it to be okay. He wants to be able to take his revenge.
But it's not right.
Why?
Because it's not.
Why?
It's just not.
But why?
He stops himself when Octavian yelps. It takes him several moments to register that he's gripping Octavian's bare shoulder hard enough to make both of their skin bloom white on impact.
He releases Octavian's shoulder as if he'd been burned.
Why not?
We're not going there.
He makes sure to tie the new bandages tight enough to be effective, but not so hard that it presses against or prods Octavian's stitches. He makes a mental note to have Will check his handiwork before nudging over a trashcan with his foot.
Even knowing that Percy could very well kill him, Octavian doesn't have enough strength to hold himself up while the younger boy disposes of the soiled bandages.
He's hazy and confused, trying with desperate little whimpers and whines and huffs to convey that he doesn't want to be awake, or near Percy, or near anyone that would kill him, given the chance.
. . . He just wants water.
As if on cue, a straw is at his lips, and he parts them as much as he can, drinking several gulps of cold, fresh water.
Two tiny pills slip past his lips, too, and something in the back of his mind anticipated (hoped) a fatal potion of some sort.
He didn't do much in the way of pushing it away, even as Jackson lay him back on the couch, leaving the blanket draped haphazardly over his fetal-pulled form.
Just as Percy turned to leave, to find Will, a kind voice from the doorway of the infirmary stopped him.
"Percy."
He spun on his heel to see Chiron in human form, eyes intense with concern.
"What are you doing here? I gave specific instructions-"
Percy squirmed under his teacher's gaze. "I found. . ." the augur's name appararently still didn't sit well on Percy's tongue. He deliberated for a moment, finally settling on simply pointing toward the shivering form on the sofa, "I found him out of bed. He asked for water."
Chiron's lips parted, maybe in surprise. "And you fulfilled his request?" the centaur asked slowly, a little skeptical (Percy definitely read that correctly).
Oh. He should probably explain his sudden change in attitiude toward the augur. Maybe later.
"I. . . yeah," Percy stuttered out, feeling a little sheepish, through he wasn't sure why. "It sucks being thirsty, and I figured he's probably really dehydrated, so I just. . ."
He trailed off, not sure where to go from there, "I changed his bandages, too, so. . ."
Chiron smiled. A gentle, relieved smile that made Percy's heart glow, "Thank you, my boy."
He wheeled over to Octavian quickly, urging him to lay back all the way and pulling the blanket to the boy's chin.
Percy nodded, tip-toeing out of the room. He spotted Reyna sleeping in the infirmary bed as he passed the Medbay before opening the door of the Big House, and stepping into the sunlight.
It seemed Percy had learnt much during his many travels, Chiron mused, thanking the gods that the boy had found some mercy in his heart, as Chiron knew he could.
He would do well in his later years (oh, how Chiron prayed he would live so long).
At Chiron's gentle shake, Octavian's eyes fluttered open, peering up at him blearily. "Chiron?" he croaked, voice cracked and pained.
"Indeed you are in need of some water, my boy," Chiron said softly, helping Octavian drink from the half-full glass once more.
He spotted the bottle of ibuprofen sitting innocently on the end table, and a fond smile tugged at his lips.
Percy had always been kinder than he would admit.
"Chiron, Chiron," Octavian was gasping, poking his hands out from the blanket, and the centaur hushed him gently, catching his hands and tracing a thumb over the boy's cheek.
He frowned when it came back with a near-invisible sheen of salt.
That would explain the thirst.
"Chiron," Octavian pressed, deliriously terrified. "That- that Jackson boy, he- he was here. Where- where- where did he. . . ?"
Chiron hushed him again when it began to sound like it hurt for the poor boy to talk, "It's alright, my boy. I'm here, now. Percy was only helping."
Octavian's brow furrowed, like he couldn't quite wrap his mind around what Chiron had said. "I- I don't-" he trailed off, swallowing thickly.
After a few moments, he shook his head lightly and squeezed his eyes shut, as if resigning himself to a puzzle he would never solve.
Chiron pressed a warm hand to Octavian's face, stroking it for several minutes until the augur relaxed, letting his head loll back to rest on the arm of the couch.
When Chiron was sure he was asleep, he went to retrieve Will.
"I don't get it," Jason said, arms crossed and near-pissed as he stared steadily at Percy from across the table.
Six of the seven friends were sitting at one of the tables in the mess hall, food in front of them and morality tearing at their hearts. Just like all those wonderful conversations aboard the Argo II, Jason couldn't help but think. "How could you feel any pity for him?" he ask incredulously, frowning.
"You weren't there," Percy said, hands placating and a little defensive. "He was miserable, guys. He couldn't even sit up. And that wound was in bad shape."
Jason sighed, almost exasperated, "I survived a stab wound, without a proper medbay, Percy. I'm sure it's not-"
"It was infected," Percy broke in. Everyone looked at him surprise.
"How?" Annabeth asked from beside him, grey eyes fierce with determination. "Besides Chiron, Will is the best healer in camp. It can't be infected."
"I don't know," Percy shook his head, still trying to understand it himself. "But he was passed out on the floor when I found him. He has a fever, stitches, anxiety, the whole package."
"Anxiety?" Hazel perked up.
"About what?" Piper finished skeptically.
"When I tried to wake him up, and he realized it was me, he started to freak out," Percy explained. "I think he was. . . scared of me."
"Scared of you," Piper echoed, eyes thoughtful with newfound curiosity.
"It was weird," Percy agreed. He waved in the general direction of the Romans at the table, "I don't think even you guys would recognize him, at this point."
"Should we go see him?" Hazel asked, ever the kind one.
"No," Frank chimed in, shaking his head. "If Percy's right, he's too fragile right now to be around anyone else."
"That doesn't matter," Jason insisted. "Until I see him for myself, he'll never be too fragile to face his accusers."
"Fine," Percy stood, reaching out to shake hands with Jason. Everyone nodded when they parted.
"In fact," Percy added, locking eyes with Jason and Piper, "the whole camp should see him. This is everyone's grief, not just ours."
A/N: Thank you all for being so patient until i got this out. I was really excited about this chapter, because there were a lot things I actually ended up changing completely.
So it's kinda cool to think that, technically, my readers and I both are reading new material.
I'm in it with you on this one, guys.
I'm gonna stop here before I go too far, cause I wanna start working on getting the next chapter up.
Again, please continue to let me let your thoughts and concerns, because I seriously thrive off of them.
See you all later : )
