Phoenyx
The first thing I remember after passing out was pain. The searing, hot pain of a Celestial Bronze wound. In other words, avoid at all costs. It doesn't feel good.
I moaned softly. The Apollo senior counselor . . . Will, I think his name was, was telling me he would have to take my boot off. His voice sounded distant and quiet. Another healer injected what I presumed to be nectar or morphine into my arm. The pain lessened some. Even still, I'm almost sure I screamed when they removed my boot. It was worse yet when my sock got cut off. Styx, I liked those socks.
The slice (I guess you would call it) in my foot was pouring blood onto Will's hands. It was pretty gross. Nico, next to me, was holding my hand and muttering soothingly. Even though his face was green. Will Solace poured nectar into the wound. It felt beautiful. Even better than a fire on an icy day. Somebody, presumably Nico, held and ambrosia square up to my mouth, and I nibbled on it. It tasted like a ripe, juicy and crisp pomegranate, just like the ones Nyk and I used to eat in the Underworld. Hades, our dad, owns all the biggest pomegranate farms upstairs, and they are the absolute best.
Anyway, I passed out again. I don't know for how long. This time, when I woke up my mind was fuzzy from the drugs and the endorphins leaving my body. Nico was singing in what sounded like Spanish, alternating with English. I caught the whole lyrics of the song, and the translation from my brother.
Close your eyes; I know what you see,
The darkness is high, and you're in ten feet deep.
But we've survived more terrible monsters than sleep,
And you know I will be here to tell you to breathe.
Tu sei il mio soldatino (You're my little soldier),
La ragione per cui vivo (The reason I live).
Non ti scordar di me (Don't forget me),
Io veglierò su di te (I'm watching over you).
Stumbling lost; the last choice of all that you meet,
It's the cost of ruling those 'neath your feet.
Paths you've crossed, and trust you're trying to keep,
You're exhausted, listening for a voice that can't speak.
Tu sei il mio soldatino (You're my little soldier),
La ragione ho vissuto (The reason I lived).
Non ti scordar di me (Don't forget me),
Io veglierò su di te (I'm watching over you).
So you run; through shadows you roam,
Seams undone by the love you thought you could own.
But he's just one of many that you might call home,
And maybe someday, the bitter will fade from your bones.
Fade from your bones.
Eri il mio soldatino (You were my little soldier),
Ora un principe oscuro (Now, a dark prince).
Ma anche per te, c'è una luce (But even for you, there is a light),
Che ad un'altra vita ti conduce (That leads you to another life)
I opened my eyes. Nico had tears on his cheeks, and his eyes were red. The moonlight from the window shone on his face, making him look ghostly and pale.
"Hey, brother," I said weakly. He sniffled and wiped his eyes hurriedly.
"Sorry, allergies," he apologized/lied. I didn't care. I don't like to be caught crying either.
"That song," I cleared my throat. "Who wrote it?"
"Hazel did. I helped with the Italian, but the credit goes to her. Will Solace put it to music." I looked into Nico's haggard face. He was tired. Really tired, I could tell, by the dark circles under his eyes.
"How long was I out?" I asked him, thinking Nico had probably been here with me the whole time. He yawned.
"Oh, I think two days? Three?" My jaw dropped. A ghost of a smile crossed Nico's lips.
"Holy Hermes! Really? No way!"
"Just kidding. Only fifteen hours."
"Still," I muttered, "I haven't slept that way since . . . 1902 or so."
"Wait . . . 1902? When were you born?"
I smirked. "1897. Hades put me in storage for about one hundred years."
"Join the Oldies Club. I was born in the '30's." It was my turn to be confused. "Me and Bianca were in the Lotus Casino." I grimaced.
"I hate that place. The lights hurt my eyes."
"Same. And Hazel was dead for a long time."
"Who's Bianca? Was. . . was she your sister? Our sister?" Nico nodded sadly.
"She died four years ago." What was it with Hades' kids and dying? It's rather ironic, in a terribly sad way. My stomach grumbled.
"Man, I'm starving. Is there any grub around here? Or do normal demigods never eat?" Nico thought for a second.
"Maybe. I'll go ask Argus."
"The Argus?" Nico nodded.
"Yep. That's him. Just a second."
"Thanks." My brother got up and walked out of the infirmary. The room was lit by a fire on the hearth, and a few scattered candles. Shadows danced on the walls and the wood crackled cheerfully. It was comforting. This was the first time I'd slept in a real bed since. . .I couldn't even remember anymore. It must have been over a month. Its hard to find a place to sleep when you're a wanted figure. Yeah. I kinda burnt down a few buildings, and the public thinks I'm a pyromaniac. I don't advise starting fires in deserted warehouses.
I sat up against the propped up pillows and noticed my foot didn't hurt. I could tell the bandages on it were dry. I wiggled it experimentally. There was only the slightest pain in the center.
Nico returned holding a platter with two glasses of milk and some crackers. Oh, man. I loved milk. Milk was one of those things that wasn't available while on the run, and I missed it. I devoured my portion gladly. The food settled in my black-hole-of-a-stomach enough to make me feel sleepy.
"You should get some sleep," I told Nico. He shook his head.
"It's . . . okay." His eyelids were drooping as he muttered. I laughed.
"No, seriously. I'll be fine. You're falling asleep as we speak. Go to bed, Nico." He mumbled and laid down on the cot next to me, and he conked out before he even hit the pillow. Nico's hair spread out on the pillow like a carpet of jet black curls reminded me of Nyk. I felt a pang in my chest. Without realizing it, I summoned his ghost. Hades, instead of having my brother completely sealed off from me forever, let Nykolas come and go from Elysium to watch over me. It was nice, but sometimes it made things worse. My brother was still dead, and even if I could talk to him . . . it just wasn't the same. Nyk couldn't offer any physical comfort.
His ghost appeared next to my cot. He sat down on my bed(on my legs) and smiled nostalgically.
"Hey." He looked the same way he had the day he died: black converse, black jeans, dark grey vest, black scarf and overcoat. His norm.
"Nykolas."
"I've missed haven't talked much lately." Nyk brushed the imaginary dust off his overcoat.
"I've been a little occupied," I replied, studying his transparent expression.
"So I've observed. You've been impossible to reach, with your mind all over the place. I tried contacting you at least three times in the past week." Nyk motioned with his head toward the sleeping form of Nico. "He's a good kid. Rough around the edges, a little sensitive, heart broken . . . but he's a good chap." I laughed softly.
"You do realize he's only a year younger than you were?" Nyk brought his feet up off the ground and sat cross legged on my cot.
"Time is difficult when you're dead," he answered. "How long has it been since . . .you know . . . ?"
"Three years," I recalled. "The accident was three years ago." He dropped his gaze, looking melancholy. I missed his deep, rebellious eyes. The gleam he got in them when he had an idea. The feel of his smooth curls under my fingers, his warm hugs, even his boiling outrage at our dad. That was all gone.
"I miss you," I told him softly, vaguely aware of tears welling in my eyes. Nyk looked back up at me gravely.
"I love you, Phoenyx. Dead or no, I will always love you." His ghostly figure smiled at me fondly.
"I love you too, Nyk." He looked like he wanted to say something, and almost decided against it.
"Dad said there might be a way we can still be closer, even more than we are with the empathy link."
"How?" I queried excitedly, my heart rate increasing. Nyk shifted and scratched his collar bone.
"Well– it involves human sacrifice . . ." My hope failed.
"Oh. Screw that." Nykolas gave me a sad half smile.
"Sorry, Phyx," he said, using my old nickname, "At least we still get to talk sometimes." I nodded. Nyk looked at his watch. "Its half past three. I should let you get some shut-eye."
"Yeah. I guess." He raised an eyebrow, in that funny way he did when he was feeling playful. (The one that you heard girls giggling in the background after. I'll admit: my brother was devilishly handsome.)
"You guess? Don't guess, Phyx. Just know." I had to smile.
"Bye, Nyk."
"Seeya, 'Een," using another nickname. "Remember," he told me, his image flickering, "I'm watching over you. I'll always be there. I promise." My brother vanished, and I was left alone with his younger lookalike, who was sleeping soundly only a few feet away. The song Nico sang earlier echoed in my head as I closed my eyes. I drifted into the vast ocean of slumber with the picture of Nyk's smile in my mind, and Nico singing softly.