Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Whumptober day 2: "I'll call out your name, but you won't call back" and "Delirium"

The raid on the Kronos supporters had been a success, technically. Michael hadn't enjoyed deferring to Clarisse, who had taken command as the head counsellor of their main war cabin, but capturing the flying chariot had had up for it – or would have done, if Clarisse would admit that the Apollo cabin had the claim to it because they had been the ones to seize it. They'd disrupted the titan's forces and gained something useful out of it, but Kronos' supporters were good fighters, and the monsters were cold, ruthless, and numerous.

Unfortunately, the chariot hadn't been the only thing they'd brought back with them. No-one from the raiding party – the entire Ares and Athena year-round campers, almost all of the Apollo year-round campers, most of the Hephaestus kids, and several of cabin eleven – had come back unscathed, and in several cases the injuries had been severe.

Will was the only year-rounder from the Apollo cabin that was more than simply passable at healing, and he'd pushed himself too hard patching everyone else up. Chiron had helped, but there were some things only Apollo kids could do, and Will had borne the brunt of the responsibility, much to Michael's frustration.

He carefully didn't think about why Will was the only skilled healer in camp all year around, or about the yawning gap where an older brother with healing at his fingertips should have been.

Michael had done what he could, but despite his own accelerated healing, he'd been part of the casualties and it was a lot harder to force people to not overwork his brother when he was covered in bandages himself. Even if he hadn't been injured himself, there wouldn't have been much he could've done to lessen Will's burden.

But perhaps Will would've been okay, if exhausted, if they hadn't somehow ended up with an illness passing through the camp – one of them must have caught it on the raid, and while most campers were shrugging it off without much difficulty, Will's exhaustion combined with being in close contact with several infected had eventually resulted in a very ill younger brother.

Chiron had isolated him in a small room off of the infirmary, both for his own protection and to make sure there wasn't a more violent strain about to break through the rest of camp. Most of the demigods were banned from visiting, to be safe, but after a few arguments, Michael had forced his way in.

Will might be the camp's top healer, but Michael was the head counsellor of cabin seven, for all that fact hurt if he thought about it for too long, and technically that put him in charge of the infirmary, even if his bedside manner was shit and he couldn't do much more than administer the basic medicines or wrap up open wounds. He was also Will's big brother, and refused to leave him alone while he was sick.

Unfortunately, Will didn't seem to register his presence at all, barely reacting when Michael tipped nectar down his throat or changed the cool cloth on his forehead. It hurt, and it was worrying, but there was nothing more Michael could do except try to keep him comfortable, and send agitated prayers their father's way.

The second day into Will's quarantine, Michael nudged the door open with his foot, arms full of cloths and worried siblings behind him. Just like the first day, Michael didn't let any of them follow him in to the room, and was immediately glad when he entered to find Will crying.

"Will?" The cloths were discarded at the foot of the bed with no ceremony as Michael hurried to his brother's side.

"Lee?" Will sobbed, hand reaching out for empty air, and Michael's heart twisted.

"Lee's not here, Will," he said, ignoring the way his voice broke on their brother's name. He caught Will's reaching hand with both of his, hooking a foot around the chair he'd left in the room to drag it close enough to sit on without letting go. "It's me, Michael."

"Lee!" Will protested, and Michael had to tighten his grip as his younger brother tried to reach out again, muffling a curse when Will started to reach out with his other hand instead.

"Lee's not here," he repeated, hating that he had to say it at all, that it was the truth, that Will was too sick to remember - or maybe sick enough to hallucinate. Lee had always sat bedside vigil whenever any of them got sick, even before he became head counsellor, and Michael could understand why Will was calling for him.

Gods knew he might have done, if it was him sick in that bed instead.

"He's not here," he said again, shifting to catch Will's other hand with one of his and trying to place it down on the bed again. Will fought him, tears seeping down his face, and Michael's own eyes were prickling with poorly-buried grief, too. "It's just me, Will. Just Michael."

Illness sapped Will's strength enough that his hands couldn't break free from Michael's grip, but that didn't stop him from trying, or from getting more and more agitated when he couldn't. "Lee!"

Fuck if it didn't hurt, hearing Will call for Lee so desperately.

Michael had always been awful at the bedside manner thing, but he'd been Will's big brother for five years now. Hugs weren't really his thing, but they were Will's, and various siblings had dished them out at various points during Will's time at camp. Michael had, on rare occasions, been one of them.

Clearly, one was needed now.

He dropped Will's hands and wrapped his arms around his younger brother instead, leaning awkwardly onto the bed as he pulled Will half-upright and guided his head to rest in the crook of his neck, leaving one hand buried in tangled blond waves. The old cloth that fell from Will's forehead went ignored.

"Lee," his brother sobbed again, quieter, and Michael found himself being hugged back, Will clinging to him like a limpet. "Lee, don't leave me."

The quiet plea tore into Michael, not just because Lee was gone, had left them for good, but because Will was talking to him like he was Lee, and Michael could never be Lee.

"It's Michael, Will," he repeated again, and fuck, his eyes stung and there was salt trickling into the corners of his mouth. "Lee's g-" His throat closed up entirely, stifling the word gone until it felt like he would choke on it, or throw up. "Not here," he amended, and if he buried his face in Will's hair, well no-one else was allowed in the room to see.

Will didn't get the message, more tearful pleas for Lee assailing Michael's ears, and Michael felt completely useless.

Lee would've been able to do something. Lee would've got Will's attention, had enough healing skill to bring down his fever and break whatever was making Will think he was still there, still with them.

Michael could do none of that, assaulted by grief he'd tried to bury because he was head counsellor, he didn't have time to break down and grieve when everyone else needed him to be strong for them. Quiet sobs dragged themselves out of his throat, muffled in Will's hair.

"I miss him, too," he admitted to blond locks and unhearing ears, his words drowned out by Will's increasingly desperate cries. They raked through Michael's chest, a reminder that he wasn't a healer, couldn't even comfort his little brother properly. "Fuck but I wish he was here."

He hiccupped and hid his face further into Will's hair, hating himself for it because he shouldn't be using Will as a shield from the world but he was, because it was the loudest he could be without worsening his siblings' grief and it was obvious that Will wasn't registering anything he said.

"Lee," Will whimpered, and Michael couldn't even tell any more if he was being somehow mistaken for their brother or if Will was just begging Lee to come back. "Lee."

Michael pulled him tighter. It wasn't like there was anything else he could do; he wasn't a healer, couldn't magically get Will's fever to break if the medicines weren't already working on it.

He wasn't a necromancer, either. Lee was gone and never coming back, and Michael was absolutely shit at everything Lee had been good at – listening, comforting, helping. He was Will's big brother but right then he was the wrong big brother and that wasn't something he could even try to fix.

All he could do was hold Will as he cried, and try to pretend he wasn't breaking in the process.

The prompts lent themselves to something more angsty/emotional whump than physical today. Also we just needed more Michael&Will content (there will never be enough).

Thanks for reading!
Tsari