The infirmary at Camp Half-Blood smelled like nectar and clean linen, sunlight spilling in through the open windows like it always did. Will Solace was already halfway through his shift—clipboard tucked under one arm, curls escaping his ponytail—when Nico brought you in.

You were small enough that Nico’s shadow seemed to swallow you whole when he stopped in the doorway.

“I’ve got… things,” Nico said stiffly, already halfway gone mentally. “Can you watch her?”

Will looked down—and immediately melted.

You blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes, dark hair a mess, too-big camp T-shirt slipping off one shoulder. Nico di Angelo’s little sister. Seven years old. Equal parts shadow and sunshine.

“Of course,” Will said without hesitation, smiling so brightly it almost hurt. “Hey there.”

You stared at him for a second, then grinned as you’d already decided you liked him.

Nico hesitated. “She… uh. Gets into trouble.”

“I run a medical ward full of demigods,” Will said lightly. “I’ll survive.”

That earned him a look from Nico that said don’t let her die—and then Nico was gone, shadows curling after him.

And just like that, you were Will’s responsibility.

Will had a full-day shift. Broken arms, cursed weapons, mild cases of petrification—the usual. Instead of trying to contain you, he did the only sensible thing.

He let you roam.

You padded around the infirmary like you owned the place, peeking behind curtains, climbing onto empty cots, asking a thousand questions. Will kept half an eye on you while he worked, occasionally handing you ambrosia crumbs like snacks or gently steering you away from sharp instruments.

You followed him around like a ghost with shoes.

At some point, after scraping your knee on a cot leg, you didn’t cry. You didn’t even flinch. Being the doctor he is, he picks you up and puts you down on one of the infirmary cots. "Alright, lets bandage you up. You alright?"

You nod, looking Will in the eyes and saying, "Yeah, I can't feel pain." Will chuckled, raising a playful eyebrow. "You can't feel pain? Really?" You look at his amused expression, a frown forming on your lips. "You dont believe me. Punch me in the stomach!"

Will smiles, getting an idea that could keep a seven-year-old entertained. "How about me test your superpowers?". Your eyes light up, and you nod.

A few minutes later, he comes back with a bowl full of ice water, putting it between both of you. "Alright, on the count of three, we're both going to put our hands in, okay?" Once again, you just nod. Will counts down, and you both submerge on of your hands in the ice-cold water.

After about 20 seconds, Will's face is scrunched in pain, while yours remains perfectly calm. "Are you okay?" You ask, looking at his face.

Then, he snaps, taking his hand out of the bowl with a gasp and looks back at you, "Take your hand out of there before it falls off!" He grabs a cloth, takes your hand out, and wraps it in the towel. "You really didnt feel anything?"

You shake your head sadly, "No, nobody ever believes me." Then, your voice grows more insistent. "Like yesterday, at the dining pavilion, this kid from the Ares cabin told me i was full of it! I had to let him punch me in the stomach 25 times for him to believe me. And once with a baseball bat."

Will pauses in his tracks, looking at you as you rant about this as if the sad thing was how it took so long for the boy to believe you. "What? A baseball bat?"