Will and Nico

Part 20

WILL

If I weren't the only one in the infirmary, I would go after him. But I can't.
I wait it out, wondering what was bothering him so much. And when Reve finally comes to relieve me, I'm out the door in an instant.
I knock at his cabin door. There's no answer but I hear him inside. I knock again and call his name. No answer.
I look around for a moment, debating whether or not to go inside. But concern gets the better of me. I push the door open.
I see Nico, sitting on a bed in an overwhelmingly dark room. His eyes are closed and he mutters to himself in Latin.
His index finger on his right hand itches his left arm compulsively. It's clearly a way for him to let out pent up energy, or to focus his head, but he itches so fast and hard that he's started to draw blood.
'Nico?' I say lightly. His eyes flash open and he sees me. It takes him a moment to process everything.
'What are you doing here?' He asks, not angry, more surprised.
'Came to see how you were doing.' I say, 'you left pretty quickly.'
'I'm fine.' He says, but we both know he's lying.
'What were you doing?' I ask. He stares at me before answering.
'Ritual.' He says, 'the...' he hesitates. He's clearly terrible at opening up, 'the kids that died in the battle. Their souls are getting restless. They need help getting to the other side.'
'Is that what made you pass out?' I ask. He shrugs, his finger still scratching away, 'Nico, stop.' I insist, stepping over to him and moving his hand away. He looks at the bloody scratch, as if only just realising what he'd done.
He lifts his arm up and inspects it. He doesn't meet my eyes.
'Where's the bathroom?' I ask. He gestures round he corner, 'come on.' I take his hand and lead him into the toilet. He doesn't resist.
I get him to stretch his arm under the sink and wash the blood away. He winces a little, but doesn't complain.
I notice similar marks on his arm, old and healed by now.
'You do this a lot?' I ask, tracing my thumb lightly over his arm.
'I don't mean to.' He says, 'it's just when...when there's a lot around me...I don't know.'
'Try drumming your fingers.' I suggest, 'or a stress ball.'
'Maybe.' He says, but he doesn't seem to be listening to me. I dry his arm for him, careful so not to hurt him.
'Would it help to talk about it?' I ask. He doesn't meet my eyes, but I see his jaw tighten a little. I see him tense up.
'I don't think that'd help.' He says quietly.
'Problem shared is a problem halved.' I say, joking slightly but also meaning it.
'But then you'd have half the problem.' He says, serious. His eyes glaze over a little. I know he must be thinking about Tartarus.
I don't know what to say. I can't understand. He looks so terrified just thinking about it.
'Can I help with the rituals at least?' I ask.
'Only a Hades kid can do it.' He says.
'Can I stay with you then?' I ask, 'to make sure you don't...' I look to his arm, 'hurt yourself.
He looks as if he wants to say no. But he doesn't. He nods.
We go back into the main room. There are two sets of bunk beds - one Nico's and one Hazel's. The other side of the room has a desk.
Nico slumps to the floor, crossed legged and hands resting on his knees. I sit down opposite him. He takes a couple breathes before closing his eyes again.
He starts to mutter in Latin, and, from what I can make out, a little Italian too.
I see his hands twitching. He's resisting the urge to hurt himself. He stumbles over his words, unable to concentrate.
I move my hands to his, take them lightly. He freezes for a moment, but doesn't pull away. He holds my hands back, and continues.
He goes for hours. I've no idea what he's doing or how he's doing it. Eventually though, I start to hear him stumble over words again, drift off in a sentence.
'Nico.' I squeeze his hand lightly. He mutters something in Italian, 'Nico.' I say again. He opens his eyes, clearly having been on the verge of falling asleep.
'Hey.' He says, taking his hands from mine to wipe his eyes, 'Sorry.'
'It's okay. Did you finish?' I ask.
'Not yet. I did most of them.'
'Can you finish tomorrow?'
'I think so.' He says. He yawns and keeps his eyes closed a little longer than usual. He's clearly fighting off sleep.
'You should sleep.' I say. He nods, but doesn't move, 'come on.' I say, lifting him up gently and sitting him on his bed. I move the covers out and over him as he lies down and curls up. I'm surprised by how cute he looks. I've always seen him as this strong, powerful guy, but now he just looks sweet.
His breathing slows and he's almost instantly asleep. I linger for a moment to make sure the nightmares don't start, and then leave his cabin.