PJO: The Age of Heroes | Chapter 5 - Changes
So I haven't even had time to update my personal LJ, but I finally finished this chapter over the weekend in the evenings and I wanted to post it. And of course, now that I'm done with it I realize it's almost twice as long as what I usually post, but I suppose I owe it to people after taking so long to post it in the first place.
Rated... PG-13 or so, just for a bit of language.
The first thing I noticed as I woke up was that I was really uncomfortable. My hands were stretched out awkwardly over my head so that they were partly numb; I couldn’t figure out how they’d gotten that way, but when I tugged at them and tried to move them it didn’t work. A few seconds later the first coherent thought I really had was, My hands are strapped down.
My eyes flew open. I saw a plain white ceiling lit by fluorescent lights, the kind in offices and schools - or hospitals. I wiggled my hands again, panic suddenly punching me hard in the gut, but they didn’t move. I tried to glance up at them but they were too far over my head. I couldn’t tell what was holding them down, but it felt like leather straps. Thick leather straps.
I realized a moment later that my feet were strapped down too - not good - and that I wasn’t wearing my regular clothes. I was wearing something soft and pastel green - hospital scrubs, I realized, and they had to be about three sizes too big. I guessed they didn’t make scrubs for kids, really, but honestly that was pretty much the least of my worries right now.
Because aside from being tied up and having no clue where I was, I was alone. As in, Percy wasn’t here. As in, I didn’t know where he was, either. At first I thought maybe I was actually in a hospital - it would explain the scrubs and the lights and maybe the fact that my memory of the last time I’d been awake was pretty fuzzy. But that didn’t explain the straps or the fact that this place had no windows or nurses and there was a significant lack of medical equipment. Didn’t they hook people up to those EKG things or whatever, that go beep... beep... beep when they’re injured? I didn’t feel injured aside from a headache, and there was definitely no beeping.
So maybe this wasn’t a hospital. But if it wasn’t, then where was I?
I considered yelling for help, but that wasn’t necessarily a good idea, either. I mean, sure, there might be a logical explanation for all of this and maybe if I yelled someone really would come help me, or at least explain what was going on. But you don’t grow up a half-blood without having at least some measure of caution beaten into you, usually the hard way. Yelling would let people know I was awake. And maybe I didn’t want them to know that, just yet. Whoever came might not necessarily want to help.
Of course, there really wasn’t much I could do in the meantime. There were no windows so I didn’t even know what time of day it was and I had no idea how long I’d been here. My arms were cramped and cold, though, so I figured it must have been a couple of hours, at least. I tried to remember what had happened, going back through what I could remember until things started to get hazy. I remembered flying with Percy from Camp Half-Blood to Rockville, Maryland. I remembered getting lunch and walking to the funeral. I could remember the house and all the people milling about, and talking to Roger Baldwin about Anna di Angelo - my mother. Or, at least, I was pretty sure by now that she had been my mother...
And then we’d left, but -
The door slid open and interrupted me mid-thought; I immediately tried to relax and closed my eyes, because I’d rather have the element of surprise than not. It was better to let whoever had opened the door think I was asleep until I knew who they were and possibly what they wanted. Through my slitted eyelids I could see a person - a woman - silhouetted in the doorway. She walked over to my bed and the smart click, click of high heels echoed off the bare walls of the room. She leaned over me, long hair tickling my nose. I did my best to keep my eyes closed and my breathing even, feigning sleep.
“I know you’re awake,” she said. And I knew that voice. I abandoned all pretense of being asleep (obviously she knew I wasn’t, anyway), and opened my eyes wide to stare.
It was Maddie, the doctor from the funeral; I remembered that she’d given us Cokes and shooed us out the door... And that was where everything had started to go fuzzy, I realized, narrowing my eyes as she leaned over me, blocking out most of the glare from the overhead lights so her face was mostly shadow. But it was still recognizable, and there was no mistaking her identity now.
Her face lit up as I opened my eyes and she smiled, stepping back from the bed. I had to turn my head to look at her, since it wasn’t like I could sit up or anything. She was wearing a red dress that matched her lips exactly and equally-matched red pumps, but over that she was wearing a lab coat, like she was some kind of fashionista mad scientist or something.
Now, in my experience I’ve learned that the nastiest things can come in the prettiest packages. And I was pretty sure she was a bad guy, because I was strapped to a bed and nice people just didn’t do that to kids. Especially not after giving them drugged soft drinks. “Who are you?” I asked, because she definitely wasn’t just some regular family doctor - that much was pretty obvious.
Her smile changed and grew more gentle, the way a mother might smile at her son - not that I really knew, but I had a hunch. But she couldn’t fool me with that, either. And there was something else about her, something... sad. For all that she looked and felt and smelled like deception, there was something really sad about her as well.
Not that I really cared about that right now. What I cared about was why she had me tied up, and where she was keeping Percy. I could worry about the rest later, when I was far away from here - wherever here was.
“I’m here to help you. I won’t hurt you.” She spread her hands, like that was going to make me feel any better. It didn’t. And it didn’t mean I was going to lower my guard. I narrowed my eyes. I wanted answers. “Who are you?” I asked again.
She smiled at me again. “My real name is Medea.”
Medea. For a minute my mind whirled sluggishly and then things clicked into place. “You’re a witch,” I said, my eyes widening as I tried to remember everything I’d read or heard about her. Mostly all I could remember was that she’d been married to the hero Jason and that she had killed a lot of people - including her own children. Not a good sign.
She shrugged a little, halfheartedly. “If you like. I much prefer the term ‘chemist’ these days, though. Or perhaps, more specifically,” she smiled a little wider, “‘biochemist’.” She watched me, her eyes opaque; I couldn’t tell what she was thinking at all behind the smile that was so obviously a mask. If you asked me, it was creepier than if she’d yelled and waved a sword around in my face and tried to eat me or something.
I mean, sure, I’d been in and out of worse situations than this, and I honestly didn’t really know what she wanted. Maybe it wasn’t anything bad. But she obviously had no problem killing kids, and I was still tied up and I didn’t know where Percy was. I’d learned to expect the worst.
My stomach clenched. What if he was already dead? But I would know, wouldn’t I? “Where’s Percy?” I demanded.
She must have seen the look in my eyes, because she laughed lightly and shook her head a little. “Don’t worry, Mister Jackson is fine.” She smiled again, and this time it really was creepy. “He really is quite lovely,” she said, like she was talking about a car or a horse or a flower or something. It made my stomach twist. “My aunt was right about him. You,” she added, her smile flashing her white teeth at me, “have very good taste.”
“... Your aunt?”
Medea smiled wistfully. “Circe. She’s told me all about your little boyfriend. Pity he ran away from her spa,” she said lightly before she looked back at me. “But you... Well, we can’t have you running away, now can we?”
I felt a new surge of anger as I strained against my bindings, but they didn’t budge. Percy had told me about the time he’d met Circe, and I had no desire to be turned into a guinea pig or anything of the like. In fact, I didn’t want to get turned into anything at all. I just wanted to be let go. “What do you want with us?” I asked, my voice hopefully sounding a lot braver than I actually felt.
“Oh, I only want you, Nico,” she said, leaning closer, her hair falling over one shoulder as the lights glinted off her glasses. “Percy Jackson was just a bystander, but I couldn’t have just left him, now could I?” She straightened her glasses and kept peering at me. “He would’ve come after you, and it might have made things difficult. And now I have a handy little piece of insurance to see that you cooperate.” She paused, smiling with self-satisfaction. “I knew you’d come to that service. I knew you’d want to know.”
I blinked, my mouth falling open. “So you sent the obituary?” I suddenly wanted to ask her if Anna di Angelo was my mother, if she knew, but somehow I couldn’t do it. It would be like asking your enemy for help. And I didn’t want to do that. How could I trust anything she said, anyway? I was better off not knowing, if it came to that.
Her smile grew wider. “Such a smart boy,” she cooed, and brushed a hand along my cheek. I made a face and turned my head away. I didn’t want her touching me.
She pulled her hand away, but she didn’t seem overly bothered. “You know, you look a lot like your father,” she said.
I didn’t want to hear anything about my father, and I especially didn’t want to hear that I looked like him. I tugged again at the straps around my wrists, but they held fast. “Let us go.” I didn’t know what she was planning or what she wanted me for, but I was really sure that I didn’t want to have any part of it.
Medea shook her head sadly, though I didn’t believe for one second that she actually felt sad. “I’m afraid can’t do that. You see, I’ve made a bargain, and I intend to fulfill it.”
My stomach twisted again. That was never a good thing to hear, and especially not from a witch with a past history of child murder. “What, with me?” I asked, but of course - it was obvious. Although... it still didn’t really make sense. If it was something to do with the prophecy, Percy would be the one she wanted. He was going to turn sixteen next year. Why would anyone want me? Sure, I was the son of Hades and I guessed that made me pretty desirable amongst his enemies, but it wasn’t like my father was all that fond of me. In fact, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t complain at all if I were to end up dead. Again. It was easier to control me that way, I thought wryly.
But then who could she have made a bargain with in the first place? “Who are you working for?” But as soon as I’d asked it, I already knew the answer.: “Kronos.” Who else could it be? The gods were too divided over the looming war to engage in other petty disputes. It was almost ironic how it had started to unite them… and divide them all at the same time.
“Mm, yes,” Medea said, smiling that red-lipped smile of hers. “You are quite perfect for his needs.” Then she chuckled and reached into her pocket. “Or, should I say, almost perfect?” And she pulled out a vial of clear, slightly greenish liquid, and uncapped it.
Do you ever think you’ve completely forgotten a dream, until something reminds you of it and suddenly you can remember all of it in vivid detail? I don’t know if that’s ever happened to you, but right then it happened to me. I got one look at the contents of that vial and suddenly I was right back in the middle of the dreams I’d been having for the last week - the dreams that I’d been having trouble remembering. All I knew was that there had been a lot of pain and twisting and bright lights. I remembered I’d felt trapped and that things were happening too fast. But I hadn’t been able to remember anything else, and I’d tried to convince myself it wasn’t one of those prophetic dreams that half-blood kids sometimes have.
But now I knew I was wrong. Just looking at the stuff in the vial made my stomach heave and it put my memory on overload until I was nearly drowning in that horrible dream. I guess the nausea must have shown on my face, because Medea laughed and said, “Oh, don’t worry.” She reached into the pocket of her labcoat and pulled out a syringe, filling it with the liquid. “I find that direct injections work so much better than simple ingestion, you see.”
I did not want to ingest that stuff - and I really didn’t want an injection. As she stepped closer I struggled as hard as I could against the straps holding me down. I didn’t care if I looked like a terrified little kid or even a crazy person, I did not want that stuff inside of me. Whatever it was, it was nothing good. It had to do with Kronos, and it had to do with my nightmare, and it could only be something evil.
But I was powerless to stop it. The straps held fast, and I could barely move enough to arch my back off the bed, let alone shy away from the needle or kick or hit the ancient witch-turned-biochemist as she leaned over me. She grabbed my left arm in a red-manicured grip that was a lot stronger than it should have been and plunged the needle into the vein at my elbow. I yelped and tried to writhe or jerk away, anything to get her to stop but she didn’t move until she’d depressed the plunger all the way and there was no liquid left - at least, not outside of me.
Now I know it sounds corny and pretty impossible, but I could feel the stuff inside me, so cold it burned as it traveled through my veins, setting them on fire until it reached my chest -
And I felt my heart seize up. I gasped - for a split second I thought I was having a heart attack, that I was going to die of heart failure before I’d even gotten to be a teenager. I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs and I gasped, my fists clenched and my eyes staring at the ceiling without actually seeing anything but the bright, blinding white of the lights.
Then my heart suddenly felt like it started again, this time on overload. It felt like it was beating a million times a minute, blood rushing in my ears until I couldn’t hear anything else. And then the rest of the pain hit me.
It felt like my insides were trying to become my outside. It was excruciating; I felt lightheaded and my heart was still pounding and my vision was going black and spotty. I heard yelling, moaning, and it seriously took a minute for me to realize that the noises were me, coming from my own mouth, from a throat that felt like it was being strangled and stretched all at once. I thrashed my head around, trying to get away from whatever was going on, trying to get air into my lungs. For an instant I turned my head and saw Medea staring at me, her expression calm and calculating as I slowly died - or felt like dying - on the bed before her.
I think it wasn’t long after that I fainted.
*
“Ohhh.” My head hurt, and I felt weird - awful, really, like every muscle, every bone in my body was sore. My head was pounding and my chest was tight. It was hard to breathe. I took a breath and my throat felt raw and scratchy - I coughed, the reverberations echoing through the tiny, windowless room and shaking my body until the soreness I felt had managed to double itself and I thought that I might really like to be asleep again right now.
The door slid open - there might not be any windows but there had to be some kind of monitoring system - and Medea stepped into the room again, her face still hard to read (or maybe that was because my eyes were having trouble focusing) but looking almost… triumphant.
Well, I thought muzzily, at least I wasn’t dead. At least, I didn’t think so. Hypothetically I knew what dead felt like, and this wasn’t it. This was something different. This was pain, but a weird kind of pain - a sense of wrong. Honestly, if I had to describe it, I would have said that it felt like my body wasn’t really mine. But that didn’t really make sense, so it had to just be some kind of disorientation. Who knew what kind of side effects that green stuff could cause? Or main effects, for that matter?
Medea came over and reached above my head, and I felt two fingers press against the pulse in my wrist as she asked, “How do you feel?”
“Why do you care?” I spat, and my voice sounded weird and deep in my already-aching head. It was like when I had a head cold, only my head ached a million times worse.
She looked down at me disdainfully, like how dare I ask such a rude question. I didn’t really feel like pointing out to her that it was much more rude to strap a person down and inject them with green stuff of unknown origin. She huffed a sigh and said, “I haven’t hurt you, you know.”
“Coulda fooled me,” I croaked. Despite her insistence, I sure hurt a lot.
She looked up and down my body and nodded slightly. “A little discomfort is to be expected. It will pass.” She moved her fingers down my arm, making my skin tingle and I looked away. I really wanted her to stop touching me and let me go. I wanted to go to sleep and wake up on the floor of the Hermes cabin and find out this was all a dream. I wanted to be pretty much anywhere other than right here, and I wanted to be there with Percy.
“Now, I am going to unstrap you. And you will get changed and come with me,” she said, looking me in the eye.
I admit, I was kind of shocked speechless. What? No, of course I wasn’t going to go with her. I didn’t want to do anything she asked - I wanted to punch her in the face and find Percy and get the hell out of here. I’m pretty sure the look on my face must have told her that, because she laughed and reached up to loosen the strap around my left wrist.
“You can’t run, Nico di Angelo. I have something you value, if you’ll recall.” My eyes narrowed - Percy. She still had Percy, and she knew she could use him against me. Fuck it, but I wasn’t just going to let him die for me - again. “And,” she continued with a sick little smile, “I’ve given you a sedative. You’ll find your body less than willing to respond, especially while you’re still feeling the aftereffects of the… treatment.”
Is that what she called that stuff? A ‘treatment’? “What did you do?” I spat, and as I felt the cuff loosen I tried to swing my arm up at her face, not caring what part of her I hit as long as I hit something. But my arm felt leaden and I could barely get it a few inches off the table before my muscles began to scream with the effort and it dropped back down with a dull thud, almost of its own accord. “What did you do to me?” I demanded again as she began working on my right wrist.
“I’ve done what my master asked of me,” Medea replied smartly, as the right cuff fell away. She looked down into my face again. “I’ve made you suitable for his purposes.” Her lips curved into a smile that was almost feral. “And I do think he’ll like what he sees.”
I didn’t know what she meant by that, but I was starting to feel sick to my stomach on top of everything else. She’d done something, all right - whatever that stuff had been, it had done something horrible and I didn’t even know what it was. And I wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of her. I was beginning to see that now. It made me hate her even more.
She unstrapped my legs and I tried to sit up - much to my chagrin (and, well, a couple of feelings a whole lot worse than chagrin), I could barely do it on my own. I tried to jerk away when she reached out her hands to help me, but I wasn’t fast enough and she slid her hands around my arms and helped me to sit up.
I didn’t like sitting up. The room felt like it was being tossed about on an angry sea and my arms and legs still felt half-numb and barely attached to my brain. Medea walked over to the only other piece of furniture in the room - a shiny metal cabinet - and pulled out an armful of something.
She came back over to the bed and handed me a stack of folded black cloth - clothes, I realized, as my arms seemed to droop even with the weight of just a pair of jeans an a t-shirt. “I’m afraid I had to estimate the size - you understand - but these should be adequate for now.” She set a pair of black boots on the bed beside me. I frowned. They looked way too big for me. Estimate my ass - more like she’d just grabbed the first thing she’d seen in the men’s section at Wal-Mart.
“Now,” she said, turning for the door, “I will let you change yourself and you will come with me. Please don’t dawdle.” The door slid shut behind her - not that it made me feel all that much better, because I was obviously being watched somehow. Her leaving to give me some modicum of privacy was obviously just a pretense, and she had to know I knew that.
I looked down at the clothes in my arms. For a minute I didn’t want to get changed - it felt too much like cooperating with my captor, and I’d really rather not to anything remotely approaching that. But on the other hand, I was wearing only hospital scrubs and they weren’t exactly the most rugged of clothing. If I was going to even try to make some kind of getaway, better clothes would be nice. And besides, the scrubs were bright green. I had to admit, I felt much more comfortable in black.
I scowled, but managed to set the clothes on the bed beside me and struggled - slowly - out of my shirt. It didn’t really seem as huge as I’d first thought, but then it’s pretty hard to tell things like how big your clothes are when you’re disoriented and strapped to a bed. I tossed it on the floor - at least I wasn’t going to be nice and neat for my enemies - and struggled into the black t-shirt Medea had given me. It was actually a pretty good fit, even if it took me three times as long as it normally would have to get the thing over my head and find the correct holes for my arms.
My limbs were starting to feel tingly now, like they’d been asleep for too long and were just now starting to get decent bloodflow. I tried to ignore it as I slid carefully off the bed. For a minute I wasn’t sure my legs would support me - they felt weak and wobbly and I had to grab onto the side of the bed to keep my balance. It sure was a low bed - I nearly doubled over it trying to get my leaden hands at the right height to grab it properly.
Pulling on the pants was just as slow a process, especially while trying to remain upright. But I managed it and as I stood there gripping the side of the bed for support and panting with the effort simply getting dressed had taken, I looked over at the boots she’d left me. I eyed them with some disdain - seriously, they were too big for me. They looked almost too big for Percy. How was I supposed to wear them? If she expected me to clomp around in huge boots like a loser…
I dropped one clumsily on the floor and shoved my foot into it as best I could, sure it would slide right in with inches to spare -
And it didn’t. In fact, I had to sit on the floor and yank to get the stupid thing on my foot, but once the heel slid numbly in I realized they were a perfect fit.
Okay, this was kind of weird. Why was my perception so far off? What the hell had she given me? What was going on?
I stared at my left foot, still in just a sock. I tried to get my leg closer to my face, measuring the size of my foot with my hand, but it didn’t look huge compared to my hands or anything. It looked normal in proportion to my hands and arms and…
Seriously. What had that witch done?
The bed was low enough that I could paw the other boot off of it and pull it on while I was sitting on the floor as well. I’d just managed to pull myself back into a standing position using the bedframe when the door opened and Medea reappeared.
… Had she been that short before? Maybe I just hadn’t been paying attention at the funeral. I admit, I had been pretty distracted. And, I mean, it wasn’t that she was really that short. She just wasn’t as imposing as I remembered - but, well, that was probably just because I knew what she was, now.
Medea smiled at me and I hated seeing the way that she looked so satisfied, but I told myself that I had lost the battle to win the war. It was okay. “Very good,” she said, clasping her hands before her. “Now, you will come with me. My master is on his way to this facility even now. You should feel honored - he wants to speak with you personally about this matter.”
Her master? Kronos? Coming here? My stomach clenched, but I said, “Yeah, well I don’t want to speak with him.” My mind began to race. What could he possibly have to say to me? And what could I possibly say to him, other than ‘fuck off and leave me and my boyfriend alone’? That was all I cared about, really - maybe it was selfish but I didn’t want to be a part of this war. I didn’t feel like it had much to do with me; after all, it wasn’t like I had a strong bond with my father or anything. I didn’t care if shit happened to him. I just wanted to be left alone.
But when you’re a half-blood, that’s just not how it goes. The gods’ business is your business - well, when they make it your business. And they had. I could hate them all I wanted for it, but it didn’t change things and I knew that. Even if I wished I didn’t.
“You will find you don’t have much of a choice in the matter,” Medea replied, unfazed. “Now, you will come with me,” she repeated, and beckoned for me to follow her.
But I shook my head, despite the way it made my vision swim nauseatingly. “No,” I said fimly. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck you did,” I demanded, and stood my (shaky) ground, staring her down. I wanted to know what she had done, and I wanted to know now. Medea could lead my numb and aching body anywhere she wanted as long as Percy was safe, but she had better damn well tell me what she’d done to me, first.
She paused a moment, but seemed to decide it was a reasonable request (because it was, considering). She reached into her pocket and pulled out a compact, handing it to me. It felt small and cold in fingers that still only felt distantly attached to my mind. “Take a look for yourself. My, but you’ve become a rather handsome young man, haven’t you? I think even Mister Jackson would agree.”
I bit back a reply as I flipped open the lid clumsily and lifted it until it was at the right angle to see. And then I nearly dropped it.
The face I saw staring back at me was me, but it wasn’t me. I blinked, but the features didn’t change. It was… wrong. It was weird. I mean, I was looking into the mirror and I could see my eyes and my nose and my hair, but my face looked...
Older. I was older. I was -
“Sixteen,” Medea purred proudly, and her hand closed over the compact, snapping it shut as she whisked it away to replace my reflection with her face, too close to mine. “Sixteen and not a day over. Old enough now to fulfill your destiny, and my end of the bargain with my master.”
Rated... PG-13 or so, just for a bit of language.
The first thing I noticed as I woke up was that I was really uncomfortable. My hands were stretched out awkwardly over my head so that they were partly numb; I couldn’t figure out how they’d gotten that way, but when I tugged at them and tried to move them it didn’t work. A few seconds later the first coherent thought I really had was, My hands are strapped down.
My eyes flew open. I saw a plain white ceiling lit by fluorescent lights, the kind in offices and schools - or hospitals. I wiggled my hands again, panic suddenly punching me hard in the gut, but they didn’t move. I tried to glance up at them but they were too far over my head. I couldn’t tell what was holding them down, but it felt like leather straps. Thick leather straps.
I realized a moment later that my feet were strapped down too - not good - and that I wasn’t wearing my regular clothes. I was wearing something soft and pastel green - hospital scrubs, I realized, and they had to be about three sizes too big. I guessed they didn’t make scrubs for kids, really, but honestly that was pretty much the least of my worries right now.
Because aside from being tied up and having no clue where I was, I was alone. As in, Percy wasn’t here. As in, I didn’t know where he was, either. At first I thought maybe I was actually in a hospital - it would explain the scrubs and the lights and maybe the fact that my memory of the last time I’d been awake was pretty fuzzy. But that didn’t explain the straps or the fact that this place had no windows or nurses and there was a significant lack of medical equipment. Didn’t they hook people up to those EKG things or whatever, that go beep... beep... beep when they’re injured? I didn’t feel injured aside from a headache, and there was definitely no beeping.
So maybe this wasn’t a hospital. But if it wasn’t, then where was I?
I considered yelling for help, but that wasn’t necessarily a good idea, either. I mean, sure, there might be a logical explanation for all of this and maybe if I yelled someone really would come help me, or at least explain what was going on. But you don’t grow up a half-blood without having at least some measure of caution beaten into you, usually the hard way. Yelling would let people know I was awake. And maybe I didn’t want them to know that, just yet. Whoever came might not necessarily want to help.
Of course, there really wasn’t much I could do in the meantime. There were no windows so I didn’t even know what time of day it was and I had no idea how long I’d been here. My arms were cramped and cold, though, so I figured it must have been a couple of hours, at least. I tried to remember what had happened, going back through what I could remember until things started to get hazy. I remembered flying with Percy from Camp Half-Blood to Rockville, Maryland. I remembered getting lunch and walking to the funeral. I could remember the house and all the people milling about, and talking to Roger Baldwin about Anna di Angelo - my mother. Or, at least, I was pretty sure by now that she had been my mother...
And then we’d left, but -
The door slid open and interrupted me mid-thought; I immediately tried to relax and closed my eyes, because I’d rather have the element of surprise than not. It was better to let whoever had opened the door think I was asleep until I knew who they were and possibly what they wanted. Through my slitted eyelids I could see a person - a woman - silhouetted in the doorway. She walked over to my bed and the smart click, click of high heels echoed off the bare walls of the room. She leaned over me, long hair tickling my nose. I did my best to keep my eyes closed and my breathing even, feigning sleep.
“I know you’re awake,” she said. And I knew that voice. I abandoned all pretense of being asleep (obviously she knew I wasn’t, anyway), and opened my eyes wide to stare.
It was Maddie, the doctor from the funeral; I remembered that she’d given us Cokes and shooed us out the door... And that was where everything had started to go fuzzy, I realized, narrowing my eyes as she leaned over me, blocking out most of the glare from the overhead lights so her face was mostly shadow. But it was still recognizable, and there was no mistaking her identity now.
Her face lit up as I opened my eyes and she smiled, stepping back from the bed. I had to turn my head to look at her, since it wasn’t like I could sit up or anything. She was wearing a red dress that matched her lips exactly and equally-matched red pumps, but over that she was wearing a lab coat, like she was some kind of fashionista mad scientist or something.
Now, in my experience I’ve learned that the nastiest things can come in the prettiest packages. And I was pretty sure she was a bad guy, because I was strapped to a bed and nice people just didn’t do that to kids. Especially not after giving them drugged soft drinks. “Who are you?” I asked, because she definitely wasn’t just some regular family doctor - that much was pretty obvious.
Her smile changed and grew more gentle, the way a mother might smile at her son - not that I really knew, but I had a hunch. But she couldn’t fool me with that, either. And there was something else about her, something... sad. For all that she looked and felt and smelled like deception, there was something really sad about her as well.
Not that I really cared about that right now. What I cared about was why she had me tied up, and where she was keeping Percy. I could worry about the rest later, when I was far away from here - wherever here was.
“I’m here to help you. I won’t hurt you.” She spread her hands, like that was going to make me feel any better. It didn’t. And it didn’t mean I was going to lower my guard. I narrowed my eyes. I wanted answers. “Who are you?” I asked again.
She smiled at me again. “My real name is Medea.”
Medea. For a minute my mind whirled sluggishly and then things clicked into place. “You’re a witch,” I said, my eyes widening as I tried to remember everything I’d read or heard about her. Mostly all I could remember was that she’d been married to the hero Jason and that she had killed a lot of people - including her own children. Not a good sign.
She shrugged a little, halfheartedly. “If you like. I much prefer the term ‘chemist’ these days, though. Or perhaps, more specifically,” she smiled a little wider, “‘biochemist’.” She watched me, her eyes opaque; I couldn’t tell what she was thinking at all behind the smile that was so obviously a mask. If you asked me, it was creepier than if she’d yelled and waved a sword around in my face and tried to eat me or something.
I mean, sure, I’d been in and out of worse situations than this, and I honestly didn’t really know what she wanted. Maybe it wasn’t anything bad. But she obviously had no problem killing kids, and I was still tied up and I didn’t know where Percy was. I’d learned to expect the worst.
My stomach clenched. What if he was already dead? But I would know, wouldn’t I? “Where’s Percy?” I demanded.
She must have seen the look in my eyes, because she laughed lightly and shook her head a little. “Don’t worry, Mister Jackson is fine.” She smiled again, and this time it really was creepy. “He really is quite lovely,” she said, like she was talking about a car or a horse or a flower or something. It made my stomach twist. “My aunt was right about him. You,” she added, her smile flashing her white teeth at me, “have very good taste.”
“... Your aunt?”
Medea smiled wistfully. “Circe. She’s told me all about your little boyfriend. Pity he ran away from her spa,” she said lightly before she looked back at me. “But you... Well, we can’t have you running away, now can we?”
I felt a new surge of anger as I strained against my bindings, but they didn’t budge. Percy had told me about the time he’d met Circe, and I had no desire to be turned into a guinea pig or anything of the like. In fact, I didn’t want to get turned into anything at all. I just wanted to be let go. “What do you want with us?” I asked, my voice hopefully sounding a lot braver than I actually felt.
“Oh, I only want you, Nico,” she said, leaning closer, her hair falling over one shoulder as the lights glinted off her glasses. “Percy Jackson was just a bystander, but I couldn’t have just left him, now could I?” She straightened her glasses and kept peering at me. “He would’ve come after you, and it might have made things difficult. And now I have a handy little piece of insurance to see that you cooperate.” She paused, smiling with self-satisfaction. “I knew you’d come to that service. I knew you’d want to know.”
I blinked, my mouth falling open. “So you sent the obituary?” I suddenly wanted to ask her if Anna di Angelo was my mother, if she knew, but somehow I couldn’t do it. It would be like asking your enemy for help. And I didn’t want to do that. How could I trust anything she said, anyway? I was better off not knowing, if it came to that.
Her smile grew wider. “Such a smart boy,” she cooed, and brushed a hand along my cheek. I made a face and turned my head away. I didn’t want her touching me.
She pulled her hand away, but she didn’t seem overly bothered. “You know, you look a lot like your father,” she said.
I didn’t want to hear anything about my father, and I especially didn’t want to hear that I looked like him. I tugged again at the straps around my wrists, but they held fast. “Let us go.” I didn’t know what she was planning or what she wanted me for, but I was really sure that I didn’t want to have any part of it.
Medea shook her head sadly, though I didn’t believe for one second that she actually felt sad. “I’m afraid can’t do that. You see, I’ve made a bargain, and I intend to fulfill it.”
My stomach twisted again. That was never a good thing to hear, and especially not from a witch with a past history of child murder. “What, with me?” I asked, but of course - it was obvious. Although... it still didn’t really make sense. If it was something to do with the prophecy, Percy would be the one she wanted. He was going to turn sixteen next year. Why would anyone want me? Sure, I was the son of Hades and I guessed that made me pretty desirable amongst his enemies, but it wasn’t like my father was all that fond of me. In fact, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t complain at all if I were to end up dead. Again. It was easier to control me that way, I thought wryly.
But then who could she have made a bargain with in the first place? “Who are you working for?” But as soon as I’d asked it, I already knew the answer.: “Kronos.” Who else could it be? The gods were too divided over the looming war to engage in other petty disputes. It was almost ironic how it had started to unite them… and divide them all at the same time.
“Mm, yes,” Medea said, smiling that red-lipped smile of hers. “You are quite perfect for his needs.” Then she chuckled and reached into her pocket. “Or, should I say, almost perfect?” And she pulled out a vial of clear, slightly greenish liquid, and uncapped it.
Do you ever think you’ve completely forgotten a dream, until something reminds you of it and suddenly you can remember all of it in vivid detail? I don’t know if that’s ever happened to you, but right then it happened to me. I got one look at the contents of that vial and suddenly I was right back in the middle of the dreams I’d been having for the last week - the dreams that I’d been having trouble remembering. All I knew was that there had been a lot of pain and twisting and bright lights. I remembered I’d felt trapped and that things were happening too fast. But I hadn’t been able to remember anything else, and I’d tried to convince myself it wasn’t one of those prophetic dreams that half-blood kids sometimes have.
But now I knew I was wrong. Just looking at the stuff in the vial made my stomach heave and it put my memory on overload until I was nearly drowning in that horrible dream. I guess the nausea must have shown on my face, because Medea laughed and said, “Oh, don’t worry.” She reached into the pocket of her labcoat and pulled out a syringe, filling it with the liquid. “I find that direct injections work so much better than simple ingestion, you see.”
I did not want to ingest that stuff - and I really didn’t want an injection. As she stepped closer I struggled as hard as I could against the straps holding me down. I didn’t care if I looked like a terrified little kid or even a crazy person, I did not want that stuff inside of me. Whatever it was, it was nothing good. It had to do with Kronos, and it had to do with my nightmare, and it could only be something evil.
But I was powerless to stop it. The straps held fast, and I could barely move enough to arch my back off the bed, let alone shy away from the needle or kick or hit the ancient witch-turned-biochemist as she leaned over me. She grabbed my left arm in a red-manicured grip that was a lot stronger than it should have been and plunged the needle into the vein at my elbow. I yelped and tried to writhe or jerk away, anything to get her to stop but she didn’t move until she’d depressed the plunger all the way and there was no liquid left - at least, not outside of me.
Now I know it sounds corny and pretty impossible, but I could feel the stuff inside me, so cold it burned as it traveled through my veins, setting them on fire until it reached my chest -
And I felt my heart seize up. I gasped - for a split second I thought I was having a heart attack, that I was going to die of heart failure before I’d even gotten to be a teenager. I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs and I gasped, my fists clenched and my eyes staring at the ceiling without actually seeing anything but the bright, blinding white of the lights.
Then my heart suddenly felt like it started again, this time on overload. It felt like it was beating a million times a minute, blood rushing in my ears until I couldn’t hear anything else. And then the rest of the pain hit me.
It felt like my insides were trying to become my outside. It was excruciating; I felt lightheaded and my heart was still pounding and my vision was going black and spotty. I heard yelling, moaning, and it seriously took a minute for me to realize that the noises were me, coming from my own mouth, from a throat that felt like it was being strangled and stretched all at once. I thrashed my head around, trying to get away from whatever was going on, trying to get air into my lungs. For an instant I turned my head and saw Medea staring at me, her expression calm and calculating as I slowly died - or felt like dying - on the bed before her.
I think it wasn’t long after that I fainted.
*
“Ohhh.” My head hurt, and I felt weird - awful, really, like every muscle, every bone in my body was sore. My head was pounding and my chest was tight. It was hard to breathe. I took a breath and my throat felt raw and scratchy - I coughed, the reverberations echoing through the tiny, windowless room and shaking my body until the soreness I felt had managed to double itself and I thought that I might really like to be asleep again right now.
The door slid open - there might not be any windows but there had to be some kind of monitoring system - and Medea stepped into the room again, her face still hard to read (or maybe that was because my eyes were having trouble focusing) but looking almost… triumphant.
Well, I thought muzzily, at least I wasn’t dead. At least, I didn’t think so. Hypothetically I knew what dead felt like, and this wasn’t it. This was something different. This was pain, but a weird kind of pain - a sense of wrong. Honestly, if I had to describe it, I would have said that it felt like my body wasn’t really mine. But that didn’t really make sense, so it had to just be some kind of disorientation. Who knew what kind of side effects that green stuff could cause? Or main effects, for that matter?
Medea came over and reached above my head, and I felt two fingers press against the pulse in my wrist as she asked, “How do you feel?”
“Why do you care?” I spat, and my voice sounded weird and deep in my already-aching head. It was like when I had a head cold, only my head ached a million times worse.
She looked down at me disdainfully, like how dare I ask such a rude question. I didn’t really feel like pointing out to her that it was much more rude to strap a person down and inject them with green stuff of unknown origin. She huffed a sigh and said, “I haven’t hurt you, you know.”
“Coulda fooled me,” I croaked. Despite her insistence, I sure hurt a lot.
She looked up and down my body and nodded slightly. “A little discomfort is to be expected. It will pass.” She moved her fingers down my arm, making my skin tingle and I looked away. I really wanted her to stop touching me and let me go. I wanted to go to sleep and wake up on the floor of the Hermes cabin and find out this was all a dream. I wanted to be pretty much anywhere other than right here, and I wanted to be there with Percy.
“Now, I am going to unstrap you. And you will get changed and come with me,” she said, looking me in the eye.
I admit, I was kind of shocked speechless. What? No, of course I wasn’t going to go with her. I didn’t want to do anything she asked - I wanted to punch her in the face and find Percy and get the hell out of here. I’m pretty sure the look on my face must have told her that, because she laughed and reached up to loosen the strap around my left wrist.
“You can’t run, Nico di Angelo. I have something you value, if you’ll recall.” My eyes narrowed - Percy. She still had Percy, and she knew she could use him against me. Fuck it, but I wasn’t just going to let him die for me - again. “And,” she continued with a sick little smile, “I’ve given you a sedative. You’ll find your body less than willing to respond, especially while you’re still feeling the aftereffects of the… treatment.”
Is that what she called that stuff? A ‘treatment’? “What did you do?” I spat, and as I felt the cuff loosen I tried to swing my arm up at her face, not caring what part of her I hit as long as I hit something. But my arm felt leaden and I could barely get it a few inches off the table before my muscles began to scream with the effort and it dropped back down with a dull thud, almost of its own accord. “What did you do to me?” I demanded again as she began working on my right wrist.
“I’ve done what my master asked of me,” Medea replied smartly, as the right cuff fell away. She looked down into my face again. “I’ve made you suitable for his purposes.” Her lips curved into a smile that was almost feral. “And I do think he’ll like what he sees.”
I didn’t know what she meant by that, but I was starting to feel sick to my stomach on top of everything else. She’d done something, all right - whatever that stuff had been, it had done something horrible and I didn’t even know what it was. And I wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of her. I was beginning to see that now. It made me hate her even more.
She unstrapped my legs and I tried to sit up - much to my chagrin (and, well, a couple of feelings a whole lot worse than chagrin), I could barely do it on my own. I tried to jerk away when she reached out her hands to help me, but I wasn’t fast enough and she slid her hands around my arms and helped me to sit up.
I didn’t like sitting up. The room felt like it was being tossed about on an angry sea and my arms and legs still felt half-numb and barely attached to my brain. Medea walked over to the only other piece of furniture in the room - a shiny metal cabinet - and pulled out an armful of something.
She came back over to the bed and handed me a stack of folded black cloth - clothes, I realized, as my arms seemed to droop even with the weight of just a pair of jeans an a t-shirt. “I’m afraid I had to estimate the size - you understand - but these should be adequate for now.” She set a pair of black boots on the bed beside me. I frowned. They looked way too big for me. Estimate my ass - more like she’d just grabbed the first thing she’d seen in the men’s section at Wal-Mart.
“Now,” she said, turning for the door, “I will let you change yourself and you will come with me. Please don’t dawdle.” The door slid shut behind her - not that it made me feel all that much better, because I was obviously being watched somehow. Her leaving to give me some modicum of privacy was obviously just a pretense, and she had to know I knew that.
I looked down at the clothes in my arms. For a minute I didn’t want to get changed - it felt too much like cooperating with my captor, and I’d really rather not to anything remotely approaching that. But on the other hand, I was wearing only hospital scrubs and they weren’t exactly the most rugged of clothing. If I was going to even try to make some kind of getaway, better clothes would be nice. And besides, the scrubs were bright green. I had to admit, I felt much more comfortable in black.
I scowled, but managed to set the clothes on the bed beside me and struggled - slowly - out of my shirt. It didn’t really seem as huge as I’d first thought, but then it’s pretty hard to tell things like how big your clothes are when you’re disoriented and strapped to a bed. I tossed it on the floor - at least I wasn’t going to be nice and neat for my enemies - and struggled into the black t-shirt Medea had given me. It was actually a pretty good fit, even if it took me three times as long as it normally would have to get the thing over my head and find the correct holes for my arms.
My limbs were starting to feel tingly now, like they’d been asleep for too long and were just now starting to get decent bloodflow. I tried to ignore it as I slid carefully off the bed. For a minute I wasn’t sure my legs would support me - they felt weak and wobbly and I had to grab onto the side of the bed to keep my balance. It sure was a low bed - I nearly doubled over it trying to get my leaden hands at the right height to grab it properly.
Pulling on the pants was just as slow a process, especially while trying to remain upright. But I managed it and as I stood there gripping the side of the bed for support and panting with the effort simply getting dressed had taken, I looked over at the boots she’d left me. I eyed them with some disdain - seriously, they were too big for me. They looked almost too big for Percy. How was I supposed to wear them? If she expected me to clomp around in huge boots like a loser…
I dropped one clumsily on the floor and shoved my foot into it as best I could, sure it would slide right in with inches to spare -
And it didn’t. In fact, I had to sit on the floor and yank to get the stupid thing on my foot, but once the heel slid numbly in I realized they were a perfect fit.
Okay, this was kind of weird. Why was my perception so far off? What the hell had she given me? What was going on?
I stared at my left foot, still in just a sock. I tried to get my leg closer to my face, measuring the size of my foot with my hand, but it didn’t look huge compared to my hands or anything. It looked normal in proportion to my hands and arms and…
Seriously. What had that witch done?
The bed was low enough that I could paw the other boot off of it and pull it on while I was sitting on the floor as well. I’d just managed to pull myself back into a standing position using the bedframe when the door opened and Medea reappeared.
… Had she been that short before? Maybe I just hadn’t been paying attention at the funeral. I admit, I had been pretty distracted. And, I mean, it wasn’t that she was really that short. She just wasn’t as imposing as I remembered - but, well, that was probably just because I knew what she was, now.
Medea smiled at me and I hated seeing the way that she looked so satisfied, but I told myself that I had lost the battle to win the war. It was okay. “Very good,” she said, clasping her hands before her. “Now, you will come with me. My master is on his way to this facility even now. You should feel honored - he wants to speak with you personally about this matter.”
Her master? Kronos? Coming here? My stomach clenched, but I said, “Yeah, well I don’t want to speak with him.” My mind began to race. What could he possibly have to say to me? And what could I possibly say to him, other than ‘fuck off and leave me and my boyfriend alone’? That was all I cared about, really - maybe it was selfish but I didn’t want to be a part of this war. I didn’t feel like it had much to do with me; after all, it wasn’t like I had a strong bond with my father or anything. I didn’t care if shit happened to him. I just wanted to be left alone.
But when you’re a half-blood, that’s just not how it goes. The gods’ business is your business - well, when they make it your business. And they had. I could hate them all I wanted for it, but it didn’t change things and I knew that. Even if I wished I didn’t.
“You will find you don’t have much of a choice in the matter,” Medea replied, unfazed. “Now, you will come with me,” she repeated, and beckoned for me to follow her.
But I shook my head, despite the way it made my vision swim nauseatingly. “No,” I said fimly. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck you did,” I demanded, and stood my (shaky) ground, staring her down. I wanted to know what she had done, and I wanted to know now. Medea could lead my numb and aching body anywhere she wanted as long as Percy was safe, but she had better damn well tell me what she’d done to me, first.
She paused a moment, but seemed to decide it was a reasonable request (because it was, considering). She reached into her pocket and pulled out a compact, handing it to me. It felt small and cold in fingers that still only felt distantly attached to my mind. “Take a look for yourself. My, but you’ve become a rather handsome young man, haven’t you? I think even Mister Jackson would agree.”
I bit back a reply as I flipped open the lid clumsily and lifted it until it was at the right angle to see. And then I nearly dropped it.
The face I saw staring back at me was me, but it wasn’t me. I blinked, but the features didn’t change. It was… wrong. It was weird. I mean, I was looking into the mirror and I could see my eyes and my nose and my hair, but my face looked...
Older. I was older. I was -
“Sixteen,” Medea purred proudly, and her hand closed over the compact, snapping it shut as she whisked it away to replace my reflection with her face, too close to mine. “Sixteen and not a day over. Old enough now to fulfill your destiny, and my end of the bargain with my master.”