The infirmary has never been this crowded.

You’re laid up in the center bed, wrapped in blankets, still under anesthesia and completely detached from reality. Your eyes drift open and closed at random, your hands moving slowly like you’re swimming through air. Every few minutes, you make a soft noise of amazement or mild outrage at absolutely nothing.

Percy stands near the foot of the bed, arms crossed, watching you like he’s waiting for something terrible to happen. Every time you suddenly gasp or laugh, he tenses.

Annabeth leans against the wall, trying to stay serious. You keep nodding at her very solemnly, as if she’s just given a brilliant lecture. She clears her throat and looks away before she can smile.

Jason looks relieved more than anything. He watches your chest rise and fall, steady and calm, and finally lets himself breathe normally again.

Piper sits close, gently taking things out of your hands when you grab them—blankets, sleeves, air—and guiding them back down with practiced patience.

Leo is having the time of his life. He’s quietly keeping a tally of how many times you attempt to sit up and immediately fail. He nearly loses it when you stare at your own fingers like they’re performing magic.

Nico lingers in the doorway at first, arms folded, pretending he’s not interested. Then you suddenly look directly at him, squint, and grin like you’ve recognized him from a dream. He freezes, goes faintly pink, and mutters something about being glad you’re alive before retreating two steps back.

Will is firmly in healer mode, moving between people, checking vitals, adjusting blankets, reminding everyone not to crowd you. Still, every time you do something especially ridiculous, he has to bite back a laugh.

Grover sits on the edge of a chair, eyes huge and shining with relief. When you start petting the blanket like it’s alive, he nods encouragingly, like that makes perfect sense.

Chiron stands near the back, hands folded, expression gentle and thoughtful. He watches the room more than he watches you—taking in the way everyone has unconsciously gathered, the way the tension has softened now that you’re clearly safe.

And then—The air shifts.

A few of the gods linger at the edges of the space, pretending not to care. Apollo hovers closest, arms crossed, trying to look casual and absolutely failing as he watches Will work. Athena’s gaze sharpens briefly, calculating, before easing when she sees you’re stable. Even Mr. D glances over with something that might almost be concern before scoffing and looking away.