I'm back! Hope you enjoy this unexpectedly long chapter and I'll be back around soon with some more. Also, I've got to say thanks! I finally broke 100 reviews last chapter, and I've made it to 130+ follows which is really awesome! So thanks for all the support, and I hope you keep on enjoying!

I've been nervous before, that's no question. I've faced monsters and gods and titans and entire armies. I've been the hero of countless quests. The past five or-so years of my life had been one ball of constant stress.

I've learned to deal with it since, but during my first quest? Forget about it.

I was a bundle of anxiety, second guessing myself at every turn. I hadn't even been sure if I was worthy of leading a quest like that. I would either save the world or fail. And I wasn't perfect, I didn't even know what I was doing.

Annabeth knew what she was doing. She'd been raised on this stuff. She was smart and tough and intimidating. She knew all the monsters, she was strategic, she knew how to fight with just a knife. She knew so much more than me, it was terrifying. It made me feel inadequate, and it still did sometimes.

And what did I have back then? I couldn't form a coherent strategy to save my life, most of my "victories" were one by split second decision. I had a sword which I couldn't fight without and some water abilities I could barely control. My only knowledge of mythology came courtesy of Disney's Hercules and Chiron's Latin classes at Yancy, and considering I'd zoned out during most of those classes, I didn't have much to work with.

Of course I was nervous. Of course I felt stupid, compared to a daughter of Athena at least.

But after succeeding on my first quest and saving the world, I'd gained some confidence. I knew I could fight, and another two months at camp were enough to teach me a little more about monsters.

Every year I felt like I got better. I learned more, fought more, gained control over my abilities. I was more confident with each passing summer, but it was never enough to completely push away my anxieties.

Now, I was uncontested in the arena when it came to swordplay. The only people that could stand their own against me were maybe the Ares kids, but that was only because of their brutality. I could dispatch anyone else in a few minutes, even the Romans.

My abilities were stronger than they'd ever been. Hell, I'd even made gigantic water hands in the Little Tibber.

I still second guessed myself though, and thought I wasn't good enough to lead armies and save the world. There were so many others that were better. I wasn't as smart as Annabeth. I wasn't as disciplined as Jason and Frank and Reyna, the true Roman soldiers. I couldn't talk to people like Piper. Sometimes I didn't even feel as powerful as Nico or Hazel.

But I'd learned to manage all of it to some degree though. I'd even learned to hide it. I put on a mask, pretended to be confident and perfect like a certain son of Jupiter. I hid my fear, my trembling hands before battle, and all my anxiety. Annabeth was the only one to notice at all, but she never tried to talk to me about it, probably accepting the fact that I needed it to stay sane...and respected.

I kept up that mask until I couldn't anymore, until I didn't need to be the hero. I fully expected it to shatter one day, and shatter it did. My memories, all the stress of the past five years, all the wars and fighting and resentment and guilt, all the anxiety and responsibility, my experience in Tartarus. With all that weighing me down, I fell apart.

I still wanted to be the strong hero, but I fell apart anyway.

People probably thought it was just Tartarus. But no, it was everything. During the war against Gaea, I pushed myself because they needed me. But, upon taking my first truly peaceful breath in five years the dam broke and unleashed the flood of repressed, hidden emotion. I was unneeded. I could fall apart.

I'm glad I helped win the war before I crumbled. I'm glad I lasted that long.

If they'd known how weak, how broken, I was back then...what would they have even done?

Turned to Jason for help, the almighty golden praetor who could do no wrong. They would've left me in the dust, pushed me away and convinced me that I couldn't do anything in my...fragile...state.

They would've tossed me aside, left their old, broken leader for a shiny new one.

How would it have ended with Jason as the hero?

But I pretended to be the perfect warrior, even when I wasn't. I kept the act going even when I spent my nights sleepless, staring at the ceiling of my cabin on the Argo II.

But Nico...he saved me. With him as an audience, I broke all over again. I let everything out, every last bit of secret pain. He listened. He understood. He never judged me, never got frustrated. With him, I felt almost normal again. I could be happy.

He was there when no one else was. He was everything that Annabeth should have been for me.

I couldn't bear the thought of losing him, the one person who knew me for who I really am.

This nervousness, this fear, was something I'd never felt before. At least, not like this.

Losing people had always been a fear of mine. I'd been terrified before the final battle against Gaea, scared that I wouldn't be good enough to save everyone. I imagined all of the Seven falling in battle because I wasn't fast or strong enough to save them. But I think the worst was during the Battle of Manhattan, when Annabeth had taken the poisoned knife for me. I'd been terrified of losing her, my Wise Girl.

But now? The thought of losing Nico was even more terrifying.

I was shaking, sitting at the Poseidon table and staring at a plate of breakfast that Jason had forced on me. He sat across from me on the stone bench after gaining permission from Chiron. He stared at me, watched me, and frankly it made me uncomfortable. He kept telling me that I needed to eat for some reason, even if I wasn't remotely hungry. I didn't see the point, but he was insistent.

He was probably worried about me, but I couldn't force myself to take more than a few bites.

I guess it didn't help that I had nothing else to think about other than Nico. All I could do was be worried.

Before, I'd been preoccupied with other thoughts when I should have been worrying about other people, thoughts that should have been more important. During battle, I couldn't think as much as much about the fate of the Seven (and all the other's) because I had to be thinking about not getting myself killed. And even before, the imaginings of their deaths were reserved for my dreams, because every other waking moment seemed occupied by planning and training. I hadn't been able to focus all my attention on a poisoned Annabeth because I had an entire camp, and frankly an entire world, relying on me to fight.

But now, I had nothing to think about other than Nico, and for some reason, I couldn't help but think Jason was lying to make me feel better.

He was acting like everything was fine, acting like I should be totally okay just because he'd told me Nico was going to be okay. It wasn't like a switch, I couldn't just make myself feel better at his words. I had to see for myself, decide for myself, if Nico was okay.

He made me sit there until I finished breakfast, while the entire camp stared at me and whispered. The news had probably come out about what had happened to Nico, and it's not like they cared about Nico at all. The quiet, tense campers were probably worried about their own safety, not Nico's condition. The one's gossiping were probably wondering what would happen to me if Nico wasn't alright.

Jason made me sit there though all the mushy, sympathetic morning greetings. At the start of breakfast, Piper ran over to my table and practically tackled me in a hug, sniffling and telling me everything would be fine. Even red-eyed she still managed to be pretty. Leo came around a little later and tried to crack jokes like he always did in these kinds of situations, but I think my lack of laughter made him realize I didn't need jokes at the moment. A few of the campers that were nicer to Nico, like Katie, came up and hugged me and gave me their condolences.

Annabeth, for some reason, showed up last. She came over just as everyone was leaving the pavilion and tossing their dirty plates in the bins.

I feel like she should have come sooner. I mean, Piper came over the second Jason and I sat down, and everyone else that cared about either Nico or I milled around throughout breakfast. But she took her time, probably finishing her own breakfast and chatting with her siblings like nothing was wrong.

When she finally came up, she didn't seem visibly upset. Earlier, Piper had quite obviously been crying and Leo had been joking around like he always did when he was particularly upset. But she seemed alright, probably more worried about me than Nico. She stood awkwardly for a few seconds, and gave Jason a look that begged for privacy.

Jason seemed to understand and got up, clearing both of our plates.

Annabeth sat down on the bench next to me, and reached her hand out and laced her fingers with mine.

"You alright?" she asked in a small, very unlike her voice.

"Not really..." I mumbled, not looking her in the eyes.

She looked me over before she started again, her brow creasing with worry, "Percy...everything'll be fine. The Apollo campers are great, they'll patch Nico up and he'll be good as new in no time. There's nothing to worry about."

I just nodded, not really wanting to talk about it at all. Especially not to her. I kept staring at the places where my plate used to be, my hand limp in hers.

"Come see me later, alright? I'll be in my cabin," she asked.

I nodded again, and she gave my hand a quick squeeze before taking her cue and leaving.

Jason came back for the sidelines, giving me a questioning look.

I didn't want to talk about.

He asked me if I was ready to go, and once again, I just nodded.

The trek to the infirmary was a silent one, just out crunching footsteps. I couldn't stop worrying though, that everyone was just lying to me to make me feel better. Well, I would know soon enough.

When we got to the door, Jason put and arm out and stopped me before I could go inside.

"Look," he said, giving me a somber look, "Nico isn't going to look good when you see him. It was really, really close for a while...we weren't even sure if he would make it this far and we weren't able to heal everything. But at this point, he's going to be fine with some rest. You ready?"

"Yeah...I'm ready," I said, taking a deep breath.

He opened the door, but didn't follow me in. There weren't really any people here, just an Apollo camper manning the front desk. I wasn't sure who she was, but she nodded to me and pointed to the end of the room.

I walked slowly, dreading this moment. Jason seemed to sincere, so sure that Nico was going to be fine. I was almost starting to believe it.

I took another deep breath to steady myself and rounded the small, curtained-off section, coming face to face with Nico.

I'd never had to visit sick or hurt people before. At least, like, not in a mortal hospital. I'd seen it on TV though, and it seemed like it was often really awful. Seeing someone you cared about hooked up to all those machines, all the beeping, the fluorescent lights, that "hospital smell". It made me even more glad that we were just in the infirmary at camp.

It could've been worse. Here there were no machines, just silence.

He just looked so...broken. He looked tiny, lying flat and limp on the bed, so thin he barely made an indent on the thin mattress. His skin was deathly pale, even for him. It seemed grayish, almost the same color as the washed-out blanket pulled up to his stomach. The rest of his torso was covered in sterile white bandages that came up, wrapping thickly around his shoulder and going down past his bicep. Dark bruises crept up from the edges of the dressings. There were bandages wrapped around his head too, stark white against the black hair that fanned across the pillow.

I took a step closer, close enough to examine his face. It was still slack and pale, just like before.

But as I got closer, I noticed Hazel dozing off in the corner of the little makeshift room, and her head snapping up when she heard my footsteps.

"Percy?" she murmured blearily, rubbing her eyes and stretching like a cat.

"Yeah...when did you even get here?" I asked, surprised by her appearance.

"Long time ago," she began, "Last night, while I was eating dinner back at camp, I felt like something was...wrong. Y'know how Nico and I can just feel stuff like that. I knew he was trouble, and I wanted to come over here to see what was wrong, or if anyone knew where he was. I probably fought with Frank for an hour before he let me shadow travel out here...you know how protective he gets."

"Oh...," I manage to gulp out, eyes still wandering to Nico, "Have you, um, talked to anyone about him?"

She nodded slowly, "Yeah...he should be fine after a while. I talked to one of the Apollo guys when I got here. They said just lost a lot of blood when he got caught by something's claw. No poison though, so that was good. He messed his shoulder up, but they set it. They think he hit his head too, but not too seriously."

"You don't know what happened?" I asked.

She grimaced and stood up, "No, I don't. I mean, I suspect it had something to do with dad. He probably sent him on a mission and it just went wrong. We won't know 'till he wakes up though."

I find myself unable to do anything but nod, and walk up to the side of the bed and drop down in a chair of my own. I grab his his limp hand in my own and turn it over, tracing my fingers across his palm.

"I'm going to go find something to eat, maybe get some sleep. I'll, uh, see you later," she said, giving me a strangely curious look as she walked away.

So Nico is going to be fine...but is Percabeth? I'm looking forward to the next chapter, and if you are too, let me know!