Nico

"He needs a brown bag!" shouts Annabeth. Jason has hold of me on the bed. I am now upright and despite having no control over them, somehow my senses are heightened. I can see Jason's eyes urgently looking into mine and his mouth moving, but I can't work out what he is saying. I can hear others in the room, however, panicking and shifting about, not knowing what to do. I think I can hear soft crying, also. I should have died by now, I was sure of it. I've never heard of someone dying from a panic attack but this acute terror seems to have lasted too long for anyone.

I see Leo run into the room with one and frantically hands it to Jason. Jason shoves it into my hands and the open end onto my mouth.

"Breathe," He demands. "Just exhale, don't worry, inhaling will come instinctively," I attempt at exhaling blindly, but if anything it has sped up my breathing. Annabeth crouches next to Jason and looks at me with determination.

"Exhale in rhythm to the counting. One…two…three…four…Good! That's it, now carry on. One…two…three…four…One…two…three…four…"

As my breathing beautifully slowed and my breaths grew deeper, relief washed over me like a tidal wave and ebbed through my body which was shaking and sweating fervently. I meekly look up at Annabeth and silently thank her.

"Can you breathe now?" Jason asks me gently.

I take a few more breaths of oxygen and nod. The panic has gone, now replaced with anxiety and nausea. I slowly lower the paper bag with trembling hands.

Hazel throws her arms around me and cries gently on my shoulder. She lets go.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she says while wiping away tears. "You really scared me, I wasn't expecting it."

I slowly start to acknowledge everyone in the room and then all at once.

There's utter silence.

Everyone is looking at me.

Everyone. Looking.

I'm frozen in fear.

Percy speaks hesitantly.

"Is…is this normal for you, Nico?"

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. A lone tear slides down my cheek. Jason touches my arm and I flinch. He takes it away swiftly.

"Hey it's alright," he soothes. "It's over now, you're safe."

All of a sudden I look at him and propel myself into his arms, breaking down and bawling. He holds tightly back.

Focus on Jason. No one else. Jason. Jason. Jason.

Jason looks around the room and gives a signal for everyone to leave. They do so, moving slowly, trying to take in this turn of event. They've never seen me this way. They didn't even know I was capable of this way. When the door slams shut, I practically curl myself into Jason's chest, gripping his t-shirt, still crying. I had been so scared. Jason has his arms wrapped around me, rubbing my back in circular motions. "Shhhh, Nico, it's okay," he whispers.

"Shhh, Nico, it is okay," she soothed.

The sudden attack from my memory jarred me. I screamed out. Jason props me upright and looks at me.

"Nico, what is it?" he asks.

"I- I-"

How can I explain my mind? It is passed broken, it is practically insane.

No, I remind myself, this will pass. Depression will replace this and everything will go back to normal.

But not now, not right now.

"I-I'm going to throw up," I lean over the side of the bed and vomit. I sit back up again after the ordeal, face red and embarrassed. At least the rest aren't here.

"Um, do you want a bucket and broom?" Leo's voice is heard from behind the door. It wasn't mocking, he genuinely was concerned.

They heard it all. Again.

This is all too much.

Jason sees my face. Right before he has time to cry out my name I turn off the lamppost and shadow travel.

I fall right in between a boy dressed in black and a New York lamppost.

Alec

I jolt backwards with a cry of alarm as the boy in front of me does the same. The difference was that I didn't have a lamppost directly behind me. The back of his head collides with the cold metal and rebounds in the opposite direction, unconscious, towards me.

As he falls I panic and reach out my arms. I catch him, but the force drags the top half of my body to the pavement. I am leaning over an unconscious younger boy in his pyjamas in the middle of the night in the street armed with daggers and blades. Hmm, well done, Alec.

"Ah, shit, shitity shit shit," I look around nervously. What do I do? With a jolt I remember he banged his head and I check his pulse on his neck. He's alive. I release a breath I didn't know I was holding. I gently yet cautiously lift him up enough for me to see the back of his head. It's bleeding and there will be undoubtedly a bruise under that scruffy black hair. I look at him. Then I look around the perimeter, extremely perplexed.

"What?" I try to rack my head for some reasoning, but I can't find any.

"How…just….what the hell?" The boy wasn't there and then he was.

"Where did you come from?" I whisper. Suddenly he moves in my arms and faintly groans, furrow creasing. I really had to stop myself from letting go and having him full onto the pavement. Why are you so skittish?

I answer my own question. Well it's not every day a boy suddenly appears from the shadows and throws himself onto you. I sigh shakily and stand up, boy in arms.

"Mundane hospital?" I ask myself. For some reason my instincts screamed no, that this boy wasn't normal. He had this aura that radiated off him, something kind of similar to both demon, mundane and angel, except the angel seemed more powerful than angelic.

"He's just a boy," I say, but I knew otherwise. Mundanes can't just appear out of nowhere. I sigh in frustration and start walking back the way I came.

"Well whatever you are I guess I'll have to bring you back to the institute," I absentmindedly speak to him. "I wonder how I am going to explain this to the others…I mean, you are not allowed to bring random Downworlders to institutes without a proper reason and I can't even prove if you are one. You look like a regular mundane…" I study his face. He's pale and has a natural innocent look about him, but from the crease in his forehead and his slight jagged stirrings in my arms I can tell he is in some form of distress. "Almost there now," I whisper, suddenly realising that he's my responsibility and there's no way I'm letting him die. He could easily have concussion. I speed up my walking. I can see the institute in front of me.

I reach the door and look back the way I came before I enter. I frown. All the bits of grass, flowers and moss poking in between the cracks of the pavement had withered and died. I take a deep breath. "Here we go," and enter the building.