Honestly, Percy should have known that it was a trick. He might not be the most clever demigod out of the lot but he was smart enough to know that creepy robe wearing bottom dwellers probably dabbled in tricking you into believing things that weren't really true and when they welded really ornate looking knives they were probably pretty likely to be doing some kind of voodoo blood magic. It wasn't exactly the first time that a god or a goddess had made him see something other than was really there and, sadly, it was super unlikely it would be the last. Someday he would learn better… but that day wasn't it. Instead, it was another day where there was a pounding at the back of his skull. It wasn't enough to pull him from his stupor. Percy could lay there, wherever he was, for a little while longer. He had earned rest, even if it was the demigod-totally-concussed-from-a-fight-gone-wrong type. Hey— when in Tartarus one could hardly be picky about those types of things. So it wasn't the throbbing from the egg that was growing on his skull that woke him. No, it was the feel of a knife slicing through the muscles of his back like he was butter melting beneath a warm blade.
Percy's eyes flew open but they saw nothing other than spots swimming and some blurry iteration of the room but they couldn't focus— not opening so quickly and with the wildfire that was blossoming from his shoulder down his arm and up his neck. His body tried to throw itself in the opposite direction and he struggled against the hands that held him down as they cut further, taking another chunk. It wasn't just screaming until his throat was raw. Percy practically foamed at the mouth, and shrieked until he bit through part of his cheek or his tongue and blood dripped from his mouth. When they cut into his upper left arm his stomach heaved. What he had pleaded or promised through tears and his own bile he couldn't have recalled but he might have sold his mother to make it stop and he would not have been any the wiser. The meaning of words had been lost to him.
Eventually, the son of Poseidon passed out once again. Just as the pain had woken him, it eventually pulled him back under to some place inside of him dark and unpopulated where he lay silently tasting the bile that had risen in his mouth and vaguely wondered when he had thrown up on himself again? The first time he remembered but there was a second time and… oh who knew. It was dark and not quite comfortable but it was far away and it had been safe. Things happened around him and to him but even though his brain buzzed with the hyper ability of any demigod, Percy couldn't quite snap it into focus to make any sense of what happened. There was someone who would be able to make sense of it… sunshine. She was like sunshine and the place he stayed was dark…
Shouting. It's the first thing that breaks through the the foggy dark thing wrapped around his mind. When he lolled his head to the side, green eyes tried to look but even the small movement sent fireworks dancing in front of his eyes. Pain shot down his spine and he groaned again, or he thought he groaned, but maybe he whimpered. It was a pathetic sound, whatever it was. The shouting is followed by commotion. The one with the hitting thing growled in frustration and took off up the stairs with his walker. The other god followed behind him leaving Percy alone. There was a knife on the chopping block, part of him recognized, but the few feet felt like miles.
I'm injured. He thought as he took stock of himself.
"Percy."
That's my name. It wasn't clear if he had thought it or if someone had said it. Probably the first. He was alone. He killed his only friend. He was injured. There was no one.
"Percy… I need you to look at me."
The second time the son of Poseidon was sure it was a voice. A familiar one. He cracked an eye open and then the other because at some point he had closed them. Maybe when the explosion of pain had made him feel sick again… for a brief second he wonders if the goddess is tricking him again when jade eyes land on the dark figure before him. "Nico," he murmured and the two syllables were the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted in his mouth. It could have been false, a promise of hope that he had not deserved, but the feel of cold fingers against his skin was too gentle to be anything but real. The other boy helped him to sit up and pain blossomed in the all consuming way that choked him as bile rose in his throat. The noise that Nico made wasn't one Percy had heard before so he wasn't sure what it meant. Very possibly disgust as Percy's body attempted to throw up but was left with nothing but bile he spit on the floor.
"Hades fucking helm, Percy," the boy mumbled close enough to his ear that the demigod could feel the tickle of his breath against his neck. "I know it hurts and it's not fair of me but I need you to trust me."
"Always." He croaked without thought.
It might have been his imagination but Percy thought those dark brown eyes hesitated for a moment. The look passed as quickly as it came and Nico nodded and slipped his arms around Percy careful of his damaged arm and shoulder. "I'm not going to lie to you, Percy. It's bad. But you're going to get up and we're going to get out of here. We've had a lot of fucking bad in our lives, haven't we?"
"I can't feel my arm, Nico."
"I know."
"I can't… I can't look at it. How bad is it?"
"We'll get you to the river."
Percy wasn't positive but from the way Nico skated around a direct answer and how his eyes glanced at it and then back once more, he didn't push. Maybe right then wasn't the best time. They were sort of in a dungeon surrounded by gods and goddesses who weren't above picking the flesh from their bones. The son of Hades tightened his hold on Percy and sucked in a deep breath. "Let's get you on your feet, okay?" Percy pulled his knees to his chest, feet flat on the floor and as Nico made to stand he pushed himself up as well. The movement sent the world topsy-turvy and he staggered forward and then backwards but the son of Hades arms were tight around him. How he managed being a pseudo zombie made of mist would have been a question for the slightly less concussed and traumatized. "That's great… you're doing great, Percy." The voice is nearby but it sounded far away as the world went black at the edges. His arm felt wet and sort of itched but it didn't move when he thought about trying to.
"I can't move my arm."
"Don't worry about that right n—"
"You! Where do you think you're taking our meal? We've hardly begun to cut the best meats." There was a crash as Geras half fell down the stairs. His walker was missing one of the tennis balls on its feet, another leg was broken, his bread smoked where it had been singed, and he wore a black eye that quickly was becoming concerning with the amount of swelling. Ichor trickled from one of his nostrils and he looked like he'd fallen head over heels down the stairs, or else been smashed into them a few times and when he spoke he was missing a front tooth.
"Hold onto me as tight as you can." Nico commanded. "Whatever you do, don't let go." Percy watched as Geras moved with a suspicious amount of speed. He threw the walker to the side and one gnarled hand wrapped itself around Nico's upper arm. The second that he did, the mist that made up Nico began to track towards him. The god's eyes glowed amber as whatever he did willed the mist that made up Nico towards him. The son of Hades cried out and Percy, who struggled to stand and canted one way and the other because he was so unsteady on his feet did the only thing that made sense right then. He brought his foot down as hard as he could burying the heel hard into the top of the geezer's until he felt something snap.
"Aaaahhhhh! My foot! You—" there were a number of choice words and phrases that would have made the Olympians blush, including Aphrodite.
"Nico," he whispers knowing that although the world around him was swimming they didn't have long. With all the strength he had in his good arm, he clung to the other. "We need to go." Nico gritted his teeth and nodded, shadows pooled around them, drew nearer and nearer and they disappeared into them.
It was not shadow travel. The other had spoken about it before that shadow travel was like making his way through them but they were weightless. The teenager didn't have words for what it was, but that could have been the pain gnawing at his brain… or the blood loss. Or just the whole fucking Tartarus experience finally catching up to him. Basically just anything or everything. When they snapped back into reality— and it was a lot like a rubber band snapping because one moment they were physically darkness itself and the next they were winking back into the present— Nico turned to face him with a creased brow. The death mist had slipped away but his skin was still a grayish green. Wherever they were, it was clear that Nico couldn't take them any further. They'd have to do it the old fashioned way— on foot.
"I… it's this way." Nico panted and pointed a finger before them. "There's a river up ahead… it cuts through Nyx's mansion near the edge." Each word sounded like it weighed of lead against his tongue as he tried to get the last of his message out.
Percy opened his mouth to ask how Nico could be positive when the other demigod began to sway. He didn't respond when the sea prince asked if he was okay. The tight grip of Nico's arms around Percy loosened and with a whoosh of air exhaled from Nico's lungs the boy dropped to his knees. He fought it from the way his eyelids kept drooping only to attempt to open again. For a moment, Percy stood frozen. The vision with Apate, the boy before him pale and staring up at him with half empty eyes sent a shiver down his spine. His fingers found Riptide in his pocket and assured himself he hadn't stabbed his friend— there's no blood. He had never cut him down with his sword. It was all a trick. He reminded himself. Percy, finally with life back in his limbs, moved to brush the fingers of his uninjured hand along the boy's shoulder when Nico's eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he fell to the floor. Whatever Geras had done to him hadn't looked entirely harmless and now the child of Hades was unconscious on the floor.
Somewhere behind them he can hear voices. Percy swore under his breath, head swimming but not in the good sort of way. No. He saw spots dancing around and the floor was unsteady under his feet without Nico to help hold him up. It was probably the blood loss but then again it was Tartarus, he'd been made of death mist, barely eaten, not really slept so honestly who could say it was any one thing? He sucked in a deep breath and began to lean down to give the other boy's shoulder a nudge but it sends his head spinning and he begins to lose balance. Apparently blood loss and trauma and leaning over added together equaled his stomach trying to escape through his mouth again. After he spat on the floor, Percy gritted his teeth and used his good arm and called upon whatever strength he might have stored deep down inside of him in those wells a demigod reserved for when he couldn't fucking go on another step but the world needed him to and threw the mist draped boy over his shoulder. The pain makes him howl despite himself but the injured one is the only choice so he can hold onto him with the good one. A tear squeezed out.
Nico practically weighed of nothing— he had always been small but after his time in Tartarus and then the jar he'd been skeletal, no pun intended— he would have failed after the first step. There may as well have been lava working its way down his spine and eating through his insides; Percy didn't even try to hide the hiss of pain that left him as he took one wobbly step forward after another. One. Two. Three. Four.
He had only taken a few steps when he began to feel Nico trembling against him. For a split second a grin begins to form on his lips because surely this is the other boy coming around and he can put him down but the stronger the shaking grows he realized it was no muscle twitching to consciousness but the ghost king convulsing. A noise came from him that didn't quite sound like choking but also didn't not sound like choking. "Hold on, Nico. Hold on. I have you."
And there it was. That well of energy. The reserve inside of him to pull from when he literally had nothing left to give and yet had to keep going. The son of Poseidon ran like he never ran before. He ran through the darkness in the direction the other had pointed to and hoped beyond hope that there wasn't any additional directions he should have known about or, gods forbid, any gods forsaken traps. The shadows pushed in around him thicker and thicker until there was nothing to see because they were entirely encased in the darkness once more but Percy felt it then. There was water up ahead. There was a river cutting deep through the mansion of night and the son of Poseidon knew how far away it was. He held tighter to Nico as he pushed his legs to their limit. Just knowing water was so close made him feel stronger and he gained speed. Percy vaulted across the chasm and it felt like he was flying.
But gravity in Tartarus was even worse than it was up top. Although he landed on his feet the uneven weight distribution had him landing on his ankle the wrong way and just like that Percy Jackson went from gracefully vaulting to sprawling. Nico was thrown from his shoulder and rolled down the incline. Percy grunted and chased after him down the hill and into the reddish aether of Tartarus; it felt like mid afternoon compared to the dreary interior of the house of night. Percy's shoulder throbbed and his vision probably wasn't supposed to tilt. There's bits of Tartarus dirt in his mouth and as he spits it out he honestly doesn't even want to think about the fact he has Tartarus himself in his mouth because he honestly can't take retching again. And anyone might have heard him, anyone might have found them but he couldn't help the sound (frustration, anguish, despair, fury) that ripped passed his lips.
"Why can't you just give us a fucking break!?" If anyone asked him, Percy couldn't have said who he was angry with. The Gods for their ridiculous feuds and the wars it meant their children had to fight. The Fates who wove so many horrific things into his lifeline. Their friends because they were relying on the two of them making it out alive so they could pick up where they left off and finish the quest. It could have been the freaking world that would never know what they had done or what they had scarified (or how much of themselves they had lost and left behind in the pit) to protect it.
Percy crawled over to the son of Hades. His features were soft again, the mist had abandoned him fully and the boy was as pale as the night was dark. As he checks him over for any visible wounds, he notices Nico's dark lashes fanned out across his cheeks and he looked almost peaceful. If he hadn't known any better, Percy might have thought he was simply asleep. The corners of his lips aren't curved down in the automatic skepticism that is natural, nor are his lips pressed into a thin and pensive line. This is what he should have looked like if you'd never showed up, Percy chastised himself. A regular boy. A regular teenager. He'd smile and take a girl to prom and he's clever, I bet he'd be first in his class. And finally, he'd have a sister. Percy's head hung down and knots formed in his stomach.
But they weren't regular teenagers. They didn't have time.
"Nico… Nico, I need you to get up. I can't carry you… My arm's in a pretty bad way, death breath. And I think I rolled my ankle pretty good." The sound of his voice is more child than hero. As he spoke, his fingers brushed along the other boy's cheek as he tucked long hair out of his face and behind his ear. Nico didn't stir. "— So, you know, anything you can do to help? I mean if you can just sort of pitch in so I can get you to the Phlegm-a-thon or whatever I'll totally take it from there, okay?"
There was no movement. In Percy's desperation, though, he convinced himself that Nico's eye twitched and that must have been some weak sign of agreement. "Okay. We're doing this." Percy pushed himself up from the ground and settled on his scuffed knees and yammered to himself all the while. The silence from Nico had not dissuaded him. The injured arm was limp and useless — whatever flesh they'd cut away to carve out his muscles had obviously been important or connected to something important. Still, he had one good arm! And, he was strong. Zeus' thunderbolt, he'd held the weight of the sky on his shoulders. He'd saved the world at least once, helped some Egyptians another time. He was Perseus freaking Jackson, the son of the Earthshaker who himself had brought some pretty epic freaking storms. This was just one more thing to look back on and add to that list. With his jaw set, fingers wrapped around Nico's hand and wrist.
"One… two… three!" He yanked his companion forward, dragging the body and it was far lighter than it should have been. Nico appeared even longer, leaner, and as his shirt caught on the rubble on the ground it tugged upwards revealing the dangerous jut of his hipbones and maybe just a rib or two at the bottom of his ribcage. Percy didn't want to think about how concave the other's stomach was. Percy yanked again, favoring the uninjured ankle as best he could. They made no more than twenty or so feet before the son of the sea's ankle protested for the final time and buckled under him. So what did he do? Get back up and try again. And again. Each time he went down, he forced himself back up (he never let go of Nico).
The injured arm hung limp and red with his own blood. Each beat of his heart pulsed in his shoulder and his stomach clenched. If there had been anything left, he might have thrown up. Instead he half coughed, half retched from the pain. When had his vision gone hazy? The boy blinked and realized he wasn't actually retching. Instead, he had begun to sob, snot dripped down his face and tears streaked down his cheeks.
"I won't leave you." He choked. Green eyes canvassed the surrounding terrain. There were massive pustules ready to birth any number of monsters (all sizes and shapes) not all that far in the distance. They pulsed and he swore he could see the things inside of them move. When Percy patted his pocket, Riptide hadn't reappeared there yet. "Okay." He hissed under his breath. There was a number of large rocks and if he could just get Nico there, it would cover them from one direction and Percy could keep watch on the rest. He was dripping sweat and the tears had not let up when they reached the outcrop. He did his best to make Nico comfortable and with a little more effort he managed to shift Nico and pulled the other boy's sword from its rest and laid it across his lap as he perched at the boy's side.
His fingers brushed through Nico's curls as his eyes closed and he revealed in the feeling. Sure, they both needed a wash, but his ringlets were soft and tickled his fingers. Percy reveled in the feeling. When he opened stormy eyes, he allowed wandering fingers to brush down the son of Hades' cheek. His skin was soft but there along his jaw — Nico would need to learn to shave. He hadn't had the beginning of a five o'clock shadow when they had fallen in Tartarus. He would need to learn to shave. Who will show him? Paul taught me.
"I've got you." Percy set his jaw and picked up the Stygian Iron sword from where it had rest in his lap.
"I'm not leaving you behind ever again. I'll keep you safe."