The world had gone still by the time they made it back to camp. Nico barely remembered the run — just the blur of trees, the echo of monsters behind them, and your blood on his hands.

Now, the smell of nectar and antiseptic filled the infirmary. Lantern light flickered weakly across your face, pale and still against the pillow. Nico sat hunched in the chair beside your bed, too small for the fear in his chest. His sword leaned forgotten against the wall, and his knees bounced restlessly, as if motion alone could keep you breathing.

You’d taken most of the hit — diving between him and the dracaena when its claws came down. The sound of it still rang in his ears. He hadn’t even realized how fast you fell until the monster dissolved into gold dust and you didn’t get up.

Now he just watched you, eyes rimmed red, hands twisted in the hem of his jacket.

Your breathing was shallow, but steady. He tried to tell himself that meant you were fine. That Will Solace knew what he was doing. That you’d wake up and say something stupid like always.

And then — as if you’d heard him — your eyes fluttered open.

“Hey,” you rasped, voice dry but still somehow teasing. “I’d say your chances of surviving are pretty high.”

Nico blinked, breath catching halfway between relief and disbelief. “Are you gonna die?” he asked, and his voice cracked on the last word.

You didn’t answer.

Your smile faltered, soft and sad, and you just looked at him — that quiet, steady look that said everything you couldn’t say out loud.

Nico’s hand hovered above yours, shaking. He didn’t pull away this time.

The room stayed silent, save for the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against the storm outside.