The Angel of Death

Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

I had agreed to let Alfred, who I guess was the family doctor as well as chauffeur and butler and apparently chef, check my ankle, but blatantly refused anything else. And they couldn't force me, so I won.

Bruce had left for work after the seven-thousandth time I told him I was fine, leaving Dick to help me after Alfred to the family room, which was unfortunately down two flights of stairs, otherwise I could've walked by myself.

Jason had ducked away to Gods know where, and Tim followed us. All three of them were surprised at the stitches, just like I knew they'd be. Alfred was very meticulous, though, and carefully cut them since the wound was healed enough now to no longer need to be held together.

He re-wrapped my ankle in bandages and made me wear this stupid clunky mortal cast he called a 'walking boot' which immobilised my ankle and was unreasonably heavy. Demigod children naturally heal faster, even without the aid of ambrosia, and I was nervous they might suspect something when my ankle took less time than normal to fully recover.

I was mostly frustrated though, that my original plan of taking ambrosia and letting it heal in a few days was now void. I guess I'd have to suffer the mortal way, then.

After Alfred had deemed me clear, he drifted off back to the kitchen or somewhere. Dick sat down beside me and Tim lingered by the bookshelf.

It turns out that the 'bad sprain' I had started out with had evolved into a stress fracture, and I was strictly prohibited from putting any weight on the injury or it could get worse, hence the pair of crutches resting beside me on the arm of the couch.

I was not happy. That much must have been obvious by my face, because Dick took one look at my expression and laughed.

"It would only have gotten worse, trust me, it's better to accept Alfred's babying and let it heal now than suffer the consequences later."

"I could argue that point," I muttered. "I'm going to...unpack. See you later." I completely ignored the crutches, and just glared at Dick when he tried to hand them to me. He shrugged. "Your funeral."

It took a few awkward steps to get used to the boot, but before I reached the stairs I had the hang of it and was able to get up to the rooms with little to no help from the banister. On my way up, I passed Jason and Damian coming down, both of whom gave me startlingly similar glares.

Once the door to my room was closed solidly behind me, I face-planted onto the bed. I still had to message Chiron and Percy. I had a bag of drachmas, but the question was if I had enough motivation to get up and actually use them.

The answer is no, I did not.

So I did the only logical thing and took a nap.

...↞⇹↠...

I was woken by a gentle yet insistent knocking on my door, and I groaned and rolled over. I tripped when I forgot about the stupid boot-thingy and ended up face-first on the floor.

"Shit fucking fucker of all mother-fuckers- hi Dick," I said as I got to my feet and threw the door open. He blinked at me in an amused way, having presumably heard my profanity-riddled wake-up.

"Uh, dinner's ready. Were you asleep?" He stood aside to let me pass him and followed me down the hall and stairs.

"No. I was, uh...testing the bed quality. With my eyes closed. Mhm."

Dick snorted as he held the kitchen door, leading me through to the dining room, where everyone was already seated. I was mildly surprised. I had expected this sort of family to eat separately, not all together. It was sort of nice.

Well, it would be if Jason were not trying to dump his water on Tim's head. Bruce cleared his throat when Dick and I walked in, and the two stopped. Dick led me to an empty chair between Damian and himself.

As soon as everyone was seated, the food was passed around. I took enough to be acceptable, but knew I wasn't going to eat any. At least, not right now. I couldn't burn an offering in front of these people without looking pyromaniacal, probably.

The conversation eventually turned to me, as I knew it would, as Damian shamelessly asked about my family. More specifically, where they were. Tim and Dick both kicked him under the table. Jason snorted. Bruce sighed and Alfred shot Damian a look and said "I'm terribly sorry, master Nico, he's not usually like this."

I laughed, finding the whole situation hilarious. "No, it's okay. I don't mind. My mom was killed when my sister and I were young. I think I was ten? That's when my dad moved us to LA. He also left us there to go back and...uh." How could I word this so it didn't sound like my dad was part of an Italian mafia or something?

"...Find the killer, and my sister and I spent a little while in LA. We met this gang of kids who sort of took us in, and my sister was killed trying to help them in New Mexico. I stayed with those kids for a while until my dad came back, and I lived with him for a bit. Then I went back to help out those same kids in a...situation where they needed my help, and I stayed with them for a while again. Then a couple years ago, I left and kinda travelled all over the world with my dad, but now he's missing." There were a lot of holes in that story, and I was praying they would let it pass off as grief and not try to question any of it.

Silence echoed around the table. "Holy shit," Dick said. "That's insane."

"Language," Bruce reprimanded. Dick stuck his tongue out.

"Is that why you came here?" Tim inquired. "To find your dad?"

I shrugged. "No. I don't really care where he is. He abandoned my sister and I. He didn't even come to her ceremony. He takes off a lot on me, too, so he could be dead or he could be on a beach in Mexico somewhere. I don't really give that much of a fuck. I guess it would be nice to know he's alive, though." A good half of that was lies. I was mildly concerned about where Hades had gone, but not enough to actively look for him. At the moment.

If he continued to reach out to me, then things might change.

"How did your sister die?" Damian asked, once again shameless. I swallowed. "She was crushed. They were in a machinery graveyard, and something fell on her. I didn't know until they told me after." That was the worst day of my life. Bianca had died, and I had used my powers for the first time, scaring the shit out of both Percy and I.

"But, it's okay. That was years ago, and I did meet a lot more people who are like family to me." I shrugged. "Unfortunately, they're all more or less in the same boat as me, they just have one living parent still."

Bruce smiled gently. "Once the agency finds your files in the system, we can make this adoption official, if you would like."

I snorted. "I doubt they're going to find me," I muttered, too low for the others to hear. "I don't know about that. My dad and all, you know. I don't really want to live with him, I just don't how how he would feel, and then there's the whole 'he's family and I love him' thing,"

Bruce nodded. "It's alright, you don't have to decide anything. Whatever you say, we will support you."

I smiled in thanks. Then Alfred noticed I had been pushing the food around my plate, rather than eating it and he furrowed his brow.

"Are you feeling alright, master Nico? You haven't touched your food." I floundered under the weight of so many sudden concerned eyes.

"I'm fine, don't worry, I'm just not hungry right now."

This did little to comfort the older man, as he continued to fret. "Oh goodness me, I should have asked you already, do you have any food allergies? Dick's got an allergy to peanuts and Tim can't have shellfish, so it's no trouble at all."

I laughed again. "I do, actually. Strawberries. I think. And I don't eat pomegranate."

"You think?" Tim asked.

"Well, I'm pretty sure, at least." 

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