•-- •• •-•• •-••

Will finished tying a tourniquet over the knee of a man whose leg had been crushed under a fallen building as he heard Nico approaching. 

Pressing a hand to the man’s forehead and sending a quick assessing wave of energy, Will determined that he was stable enough to last until actual adult medical professionals arrived and turned from his patient, washing the blood off them with a flask of heavily diluted ambrosia —it was the most effective antiseptic he had access to at the moment.

Nico was settling an elderly woman onto the floor. She had a roman numeral III over her forehead. 

Good, a walking wounded. 

She’d survive even if they did nothing, so he let Nico fuss over her and took a swig from his flask to stave off the exhaustion. The ambrosia tasted like the tiramisu Nico and he had taken to making together in the Big House’s kitchen when neither of them could sleep and Will felt his mind clear as the steady thrum of tiredness lessened. 

He cast his gaze around the infirmary. It was still filled with soft moans and cries of pain, but thankfully that kid from earlier had settled down once her aunt had been treated. She was curled up on the woman’s lap now, presumably sleeping, with a neat bandage covering the gash on her leg. 

Scanning the crowd, he saw an untreated level I near the entrance where Captain America and Hawkeye were unloading people from the Hulk’s arms. 

That seemed like a poorly thought-out mode of transportation for vulnerable noncombatants, but Will really didn’t have the emotional energy to spare arguing about it. 

The level I, that was something he could help with. Will jogged over to him. 

A teenager. 

Blue eyes. 

Tan skin. 

Slightly curly, sandy blonde hair that was stained red with blood from a nasty head injury. 

Will felt his breath hitch. 

“Lee?” he whispered under his breath, voice cracking. 

But no. This wasn’t Lee. Lee had died in the Battle of the Labyrinth years ago. 

This boy just… looked like him. 

And had a very similar injury. 

And wouldn’t last much longer without medical attention. 

Gods, Will should probably get someone else to handle this one, but there was no one else who could help someone this far gone. It was just him.

He shook himself and dribbled unicorn draught between the boy’s slightly parted lips, singing a desperate hymn to Apollo and hoping his father wouldn’t mind how much his voice was shaking. 

Thankfully, Will had always had remarkably steady hands. The last time his hands shook was when he’d delivered a baby, which would forever remain in his top twenty traumatizing experiences. The only time before that had been… 

Well anyways, Will’s hands were steady as he carefully pulled hair out of the way, cutting through it with his tiny knife to get a clear view of the wound. 

He winced. That was definitely a shard of skull that was poking out there. He re-arranged the bone, cleaning the wound efficiently with unicorn draught. He closed his eyes and sent out his senses, redoubling his quiet hymn and pouring power out through his fingertips. 

He could feel the bone and muscles trying to re-knit themselves as usual, but there was a strange cold spot just beyond. He leaned into it, trying to spread his warmth into the depths, but there was no change. That cold darkness continued to spread, trickling down from the brain to the spine, leaving nothing but blankness in its wake. 

Death. 

He was dying.

Lee was dying and there was nothing he could do.

He pushed more power through his hands, dread blooming in his stomach as it drained away and the wound remained the same. He tried to call out for Nico, but panic rose in his throat, choking him. What came out was more akin to the sound of a cat bringing up a hairball.

This was just like the Battle of the Labyrinth. 

Lee was laying in front of him, blue eyes filled with uncharacteristic fear as he stared up at his younger brother. His younger brother who had frozen and done nothing as the life gradually faded from his body. And here he was, all these years later, just as useless as his brother died in front of him all over again. 

A single sob broke free from his chest and he tried to shove all that feeling into its neat little box to deal with when people weren’t dying, but it didn’t work. If anything, the grief surged forward, sweeping him up in its cold embrace. How old had Lee been? Will didn’t even know. It couldn’t have been much older than Will was now.

“Raphael.”

Will wrenched his eyes open to ground himself, but all he saw was dark trees and a body lying broken on the forest floor. Lee had always seemed so confident. So full of life. He’d seemed invincible to Will. 

Will looked at him now and saw a terrified child. 

“Raphael!”

He heard heavy footsteps behind him and reacted instinctively, pulling the celestial bronze dagger out of its sheath at his thigh and turning his body to plunge it into the heart of the cyclops that had killed his brother. 

He twisted the blade and pulled it out, but the cyclops was still standing. He raised the dagger again, the cyclops stopped him, a firm calloused hand wrapping around his wrist. 

Those were archery calluses. 

That didn’t make sense, he’d never seen a cyclops wield a bow. They tended to favor clubs. Clubs that bashed in sculls and left brothers lying lifeless on forest floors… 

But this one was an archer. 

Will’s mind ached with confusion and he blinked, staring at the cyclops.

It was far too short to be a cyclops. Short and compact. Calloused hands holding him as he broke down with Lee on the ground beside them. 

“Michael?” Will’s voice broke as his brother’s features solidified to his view. How could he have ever mistaken him for a cyclops. Michael was the one who had found him— who was finding him, when Lee… 

Oh gods. 

He’d just stabbed Michael. 

He’d stabbed him in the heart and twisted the knife and killed him and he was dead and it was his faultohgods. There was a distant clatter as the dagger slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground. A strangled sound erupted from Will’s throat and his knees gave out, the only thing keeping him upright being the grip his dead brother had on his wrist.

His face was wet. 

Something warm and salty ran down his cheeks. Was it blood? He put a hand to his face and looked at it. 

There was red, red blood coating his fingers, running down his hands. Gods he was gonna die. He was gonna die just like Lee and Michael and his cabin would have to find a new head counselor.

Sounds reached him. Words that… someone was saying. 

They sounded urgent. 

Of course they were urgent, they’d just found three dead sons of Apollo in the forest. The thought made a strange laugh bubble up in his throat. That sounded like the beginning of a joke. What do you say when you find three sons of Apollo lying dead in a forest? 

He was laughing now. 

He didn’t even know why. 

That joke didn’t even have a punchline, but it was so funny that he could barely breathe for the laughter that shook his frame. Or maybe those were sobs. 

Who could even tell anymore? Certainly not him.

And then there were thin, strong arms around him —cool to the touch and strangely familiar— and everything dissolved into cold darkness for a moment before reassembling itself into warm sunlight.

•-•• • ---

Leo was on his way back to the MOMA after dropping off some mortals at some hospital in Staten Island. Word must be getting around, because there had been several nurses waiting outside and they had only looked mildly surprised by the giant bronze dragon. 

It was just that kind of day, he supposed.

“Is anybody going to be at the MOMA soon?” he heard Nico say over coms. His voice was uncharacteristically laden with some strong emotion, though Leo couldn’t quite tell what it was.

“I’ll be there in about two minutes.” He responded quickly. “What’s going on?”

He heard the coms transition smoothly into a two-way call. 

Whatever Nico was going to say, he didn’t want the others to hear it. Leo furrowed his brow as worry burned the back of his throat.

“Raphael is… compromised. We’re outside the MOMA and I can’t leave him,” Nico’s voice cracked slightly. Well. That explained it then. “I need someone to explain things to Captain America and Hawkeye.” 

“Copy that.” Leo said seriously. 

He didn’t really know what ‘compromised’ was supposed to mean. 

He doubted it had anything to do with the aliens, they’d shut down almost forty minutes ago and so far showed no sign of waking. 

Plus, if Will were injured he’d be in the infirmary. Not outside with Nico. 

It must be something else, which was something of a shock to Leo. 

He’d never seen Will ‘compromised’ which was a testament to how tough the guy was. 

Even in chaotic battlefields or in the face of gruesome injuries he stayed calm. Will had been the person to give him the camp tour, and to be honest he’d always kind of looked up to the guy, even when he turned out to be younger than Leo. 

Heck, especially when he turned out to be younger than Leo. 

Festus landed and Leo let him fly off with instructions to look for more wounded. His bedside manner was horrid, but his scanning systems and the archimedes spheres were effective enough at search and rescue that Leo didn’t feel too bad for sending him off by himself. 

Nico was sitting with Will in a patch of sunlight just outside the doors. Gods, Will looked pretty bad. 

He was shaking like a leaf and paler than Leo had ever seen him. Nico didn’t look much better, honestly. Still, he sent Leo a purposeful nod and turned back to his boyfriend.

Leo could take a hint. 

He entered through the glass doors and made his way to the make-shift infirmary. Hawkeye and Captain America were huddled over a motionless teenager, looking panicked. 

Their ridiculous expressions might have been funny if it hadn’t been for the clearly dead kid (there was no life in those blue eyes) at their feet and the fact that Will was outside having a mental breakdown. 

“There’s nothing you can do for him.” Leo said matter of factly. They both flinched and turned towards him, The Captain’s shield suddenly in his hand and braced for attack. 

Leo sighed. “That one’s gone. I’m assuming that not even Raphael could save him, which means he’s been as good as dead since he came through these doors.”

“Pyre.” the Captain greeted, his voice low. “You have a lot of faith in that Raphael kid..”

“It’s not misplaced.” Leo said, slightly annoyed. If they were going to judge him for one lost patient, he was going to be supremely annoyed. “He’s the best field medic I’ve ever seen.” 

“He’s a child.” the Captain said, sounding incredulous.

“He’s sixteen.” Leo crossed his arms. “And he’s seen worse than you could even dream of, Captain. The guy’s got a stomach of steel. Don’t patronize him.”

“He and that shadowy kid just… disappeared.” Hawkeye said suddenly, voice rough. He was still staring at the ground. 

Not at the kid, Leo realized. At a Celestial Bronze knife that was lying there as if it had been dropped. 

“After he stabbed me in the heart.” Hawkeye finished, sounding astonished.

“Raphael stabbed you?” Leo asked incredulously. Gods, Leo hadn’t known the guy had it in him.

“The knife went right through. Didn’t feel a thing. It was like it wasn’t even there.” Hawkeye traced over his chest in disbelief.

“I’m still stuck on the part where Raphael stabbed you.” Leo said, making the universal sign for ‘rewind’. “What, did you sneak up on him or something?”

“I walked up behind him. I thought he heard me, but as soon as I touched he just… moved. Like it was instinct.” Hawkeye said, almost sadly.

Huh, good for him.

“The same thing happened when I went to find Riptide earlier,” the Captain mused. “I called his name and walked towards him, but it was like he couldn’t hear me. As soon as I got close enough he swung his sword at me. It went through my shield and clothes like some kind of hologram. Just like that knife.”

“Well yeah, it would do that.” Leo said, not feeling particularly inclined to explain the intricacies of Celestial Bronze to a couple mortals who might not even remember this later. 

So Percy had cracked a bit too. It made sense that the people who’d fought in the Battle of Manhattan would have bad reactions to a disaster there again, he supposed.

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“By what?” he raised an eyebrow.

“By your friends attacking people when they’re approached.” the Captain said, gesturing with one hand like this was an obvious thing to be surprised about.

“Well I mean… not really. Weird stranger with a weapon walks up behind you,” Leo pointed towards the Captain’s shield, which was still in a defensive position. He promptly lowered it. “I’d probably end up attacking too. I didn’t really expect it from Raphael, but I guess he’d be dead by now if he couldn’t protect himself.”

“See, now that’s concerning. How do you not see how this is concerning?” the Captain asked. “You’re like fourteen—”

“Seventeen!” he protested. “I’m just short.”

“That’s not better,” the Captain said, pinching the bridge of his nose with a pained expression. “I can’t even begin to express how much that is not better.”

“Are we just skimming over the fact that their weapons phase through people?” Hawkeye said, finally tearing his eyes from the dagger on the ground. 

Speaking of the ground, it was covered in injured mortals with no healer in the general vicinity, which was not ideal.

“Look, I’m sure you have questions but we kind of have more pressing issues right now.” Leo said defensively, gesturing to one of the aforementioned issues who was currently bleeding out on the linoleum floor.

The three of them looked around at the injured mortals that surrounded them. 

“I only know basic first aid and the barebones of battlefield medicine. We need a medical professional or another one of… whatever Raphael is.” the Captain said reluctantly. “Do you know any more like him?”

“You mean healers?” Leo asked, amused. “I know a couple, but I don’t think any of them could get here so—” he trailed off as a thought occurred to him, then facepalmed and groaned. 

“Idiota. I’m so stupid.” He looked around the room. No windows. 

Cursing under his breath, he dashed out of the room, ignoring the questions the two adults called after him. He made it to the doors and stepped out into the sunlight.

“Hey, Apollo!” He called in Ancient Greek. “We need your help to care for the wounded here. I’m going to use another one of my favors.” 

Sunlight began to bend unnaturally into a vaguely humanoid figure and Leo turned away on instinct.

“Who the hell are you talking to?” the Captain asked, slightly hysterical. “What language are you even speaking? Would it kill you kids to explain anything even a little bit?”

Leo rushed over, desperately covering the Captain’s eyes, holding on as the man instinctively tried to shove him off. “Quite possibly, Señor.”

“What the—

A bright flash filled the room and he let go immediately, wincing at the throbbing pain from the Captain’s hands. Gods, he was even stronger than he looked. And that was saying something because he was built like one of those ancient statues of the gods made by kiss-ups trying to get on their good sides. 

“Hello there.” Apollo said conversationally, holding out a hand to the Captain. “Pleasure to meet you, Cap.”

Leo looked between Apollo and ‘Cap’, who was staring forward in a remarkable impression of a goldfish and didn’t seem to be planning on moving any time soon.

He sighed.

This was going to be tough to explain. 

•- •--• --- •-•• •-•• ---

Apollo was shifting anxiously in the seat of the sun chariot. He’d collected most of his essence here to watch over New York, except for that small sliver that was engaged in a practice of futility, trying to convince Zeus to let him help.

He saw his son appear and meet up with his friends before disappearing from his view, ducking out of the sunlight and into the Museum of Modern Art. 

He saw the others guiding mortals to safety, fighting aliens and giving rides to heroes. 

He saw the missile approaching and was about to knock it out of the sky, not giving a damn what Zeus would say, but a metal man gripped the missile tight and steered it into the portal. 

He saw the portal close, and saw the metal man fall down to earth before his green friend caught him.

And, of course, it was sheer luck that the suit was somehow able to withstand the harsh conditions of space even though it hadn’t been designed to. There was definitely nothing at all healing about the sunlight that soaked into the man’s skin after he was settled on the ground. 

Nor was there a reason that those fighting and running and lifting heavy rubble seemed invigorated, almost energized by the warm light of afternoon. 

And if certain sunbeams shone brighter than others, guiding rescuers to the rubble that covered a family of five, then it was a happy accident that clouds just happened to be arranged in that way. 

“No, I haven’t been doing anything but watching, Father, why do you ask?”

He wished he could do something more obvious, but Zeus was watching him like a hawk and Apollo really hated being struck by the master bolt. It burned like Hephestes and sent agony coursing through every atom of his being. 

When Nico and Will appeared in the shadow of a particularly large piece of rubble, however, Apollo suddenly lost the ability to care much about what Zeus was going to do to him because his son was pale and shaking in a way he had never seen before. 

Nico guided Will into the sunlight and Apollo sent all the warmth and affection he could through those rays of light, sighing in relief as Will’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. 

When, many long minutes later, he heard Leo cashing in another favor he grinned.

Zeus scowled, clearly having heard it as well.

“What, do you expect the god of truth to go back on his word, Father? You wouldn’t make a liar out of me, would you?” He smirked and sent out slivers of his consciousness before Zeus could protest. A roll of thunder made him flinch slightly, but he found a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Zeus couldn’t do anything about this. 

He was just fulfilling a godly favor. 

Nothing more, and certainly nothing less.