The infirmary smelled faintly of pine and cinnamon—someone had tried to bring in some Christmas spirit—but it couldn’t quite cover the exhaustion that hung in the air. Beds were full, campers sneezing, coughing, groaning, and through it all, Will Solace moved like a warm flicker of light that just refused to go out.

He looked awful.

Nico saw it before anyone else did.

His normally golden hair was messy, sticking up in odd angles; his freckles stood out even more against pale, tired skin; and his eyes—normally bright like summer—were dull, rimmed red, and glassy with fever. Still, he was shuffling from bed to bed with his stethoscope crooked around his neck, voice soft, hands steady, forcing smiles even when his body clearly protested every step.

Typical Will.

Son of Apollo. Son of the sun itself. And yet here he was, shivering.

Nico leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching him try to remind a camper to take their medicine, only to yawn halfway through the sentence. The kid gave Will a concerned look.

“Are you okay?”

“Me?” Will blinked slowly, like he had to process the question. “I’m—I’m fine. Sunshine and golden mist.” He waved a hand vaguely, then nearly tripped over a supply cart.

That was enough.

Nico marched forward, silent as a shadow but with purpose. Will didn’t even notice him until Nico gently but firmly took the clipboard out of his hands.

“Hey—Nico? What are you—”

“You’re done,” Nico said.

Will blinked, breath hitching. “But I can’t. I—I still have to check on Lou Ellen’s fever, and Kayla sprained her ankle, and Austin is dizzy again, and—”

“And you,” Nico said simply.

Will opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Nico’s voice softened. “You’ve given everything today. Probably more than you had. You’re burning yourself out, Will.”

Will swayed, blinking like he was trying very hard not to fall asleep standing. “I can’t just leave. They need me.”

“They also need you not fainting on the floor,” Nico said, already steering him toward the empty cot in the corner. “Trust me. I’ve seen enough dead people. I know when someone needs rest.”

“Dark,” Will muttered hoarsely.

“True,” Nico replied, pulling a blanket around his shoulders.

Will didn’t have the energy to protest anymore. The moment Nico sat him down, his shoulders slumped, body finally admitting what it had been fighting all day. Nico was quiet as he helped Will lie down, adjusting the blankets, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead.

Will’s voice came out small, hushed, almost apologetic. “I didn’t want to leave you alone, either.”

Nico’s chest squeezed, but he only frowned softly. “I wasn’t alone,” he said. “I was waiting for you.”

A pause.

Will blinked up at him—warm, tired, smiling.

“You’re here,” he murmured.

“Obviously,” Nico said, and gently placed a cool hand to Will’s fevered cheek. “Sleep. I’ll stay.”

Will didn’t fight it anymore.

He fell asleep to the faint glow of the infirmary lights… and the warmth of Nico’s hand, resting safely in his own.