Discovery (PJO/HoO ff)

Death Stare

Hazel

I'd been called by about 6am, to the infirmary to use my 'underworld skills' on Percy. It was an understatement to say that the messenger that said 'underworld skills' annoyed me, in fact I was so angry and sleep deprived that I gave him my own brand of the death stare, and being daughter of the god of the underworld, my death stares were pretty damn convincing.

I wished I could blame my sleeplessness on the baby but in reality it was the baby's parents that kept me up. It took longer than it should have to get all of the shrapnel out of wounds on Annabeth's body, even with nectar and ambrosia. Even when the metal was removed and cuts healed she didn't wake up, this worried Frank, Jason and I greatly but Reyna had dropped by our cabin and told us not to worry because Annabeth was exhausted. I had to stop the boys from waking her, because from what I heard Annabeth needed her sleep.

Any spare time was spent fussing over the baby, even Frank; son of the god of war, couldn't stop himself from fussing over her. I laughed at this, as I always knew Frank and his father were different, but not that different. When I thought back, I realised the guys had spent more time with the baby than I had, over the 3 hours that they had looked after her. We couldn't have given the baby to the infirmary even if we wanted to; we were a Roman camp that trained Demi-gods to become heroes, and were equipped to deal with battle wounds not babies. New Rome would have been well equipped enough to take her but I guessed that Annabeth would want to see her as soon as she woke up. And we really didn't want to give her away.

By the time 6am rolled around I had got roughly 23 minutes and 14 seconds sleep. Not like I was counting or anything. The messenger came into the cabin after standing to attention, and walked straight up to me, which I wasn't expecting. After finishing my death stare, I made sure the boys were okay before leaving. I yawned and stretched as I stiffly shuffled to the infirmary, shivering with mild tire as I did.

When I arrived at the infirmary, I was ushered by one of the healers to a bed surrounded with all types of potions, bandages and cotton swabs, not to mention nectar and ambrosia. I stopped a few metres from the bed, because for once I didn't want to be right- but right I was. Percy lay unconscious in the bed and he was drooling, I scrunched my face up as I reminded myself to tell Annabeth that she was right: The great Percy Jackson, saviour of Olympus, blood of Olympus, and one of the first defenders of peace between Greeks and Romans drooled in his sleep. Eww, I thought.

The healer cleared her throat, trying to persuade me to keep moving; I huffed sadly and closed the gap between myself and Percy's bed. He was covered in injuries; his lip was cut, his left eye was bruised and his left side was covered in a large, blood soaked bandage. "Why hasn't he been healed?" I asked abruptly,

The healer looked sympathetic, and lucky understood what I really meant, "We've used the maximum amount of nectar and ambrosia on him, his body won't be able to handle any more for a couple of days,"

"But why-" I started.

"-hasn't he woken up?" I nodded, "He did but he seemed traumatised, so we gave him something to keep him asleep. He kept talking about some sort of bad dream involving Annabeth. We think this is also stopping him from healing as well as he could and that's where you come in... we hope." I looked at her, puzzled and not entirely sure as to what she was asking me.

"Me?"

"Yes I was wondering if you could use the... skills you inherited from your father to sense how he's doing."

I raised my left eyebrow; "You want me to see if one of my best friends is dying?" I couldn't help but choke on the last word. The healer nodded gravely and I swallowed, moving closer to Percy.