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to fade

• • •

The world blurred and spun as Drew struggled to stay awake. Her whole body was aching with a variety of pain she had never before been so unfortunate to feel, but it had somehow become her whole world. Her grip tightened around the handle of the chariot that she was clinging onto the same way she was to her consciousness.

Gods, she would kill for a hot bath right now. Or a warm bed. The wind blowing past her was faster than the speed of sound, and it sent a deep chill through Drew's bones. A hot meal wouldn't be under-appreciated either.

But more than anything else, Drew wanted to see Cameron. If only to convince her that he wasn't dead. Over the past two years, he had become closer than a brother to Drew, and she had abandoned him when it mattered most. Her grip on the golden chariot weakened.

A strong hand pushed against Drew's back, steadying her.

"Careful," Clarisse shouted, the word almost inaudible over the roaring winds.

Drew nodded, but she couldn't bring herself to respond. Partly because her words would be lost to the wind, but also because there was an emptiness inside of her chest. She had felt it for a while now, but it was so much bigger now. Like it had taken over her heart, and now it was eating up everything inside of her. It made Drew feel sick, but it felt like everything she deserved.

Her wounds were no were close to being healed. Several of them had opened up on the journey, and the surprise attack had rewarded her with new wounds. One hand, slippery with blood, was clutching the chariot while the other struggled to keep her stomach inside of her body. Drew felt more than nauseated. She felt so tired.

There was one good thing about this, in the end. Because if Drew finally died, she'd be able to see the missing part of her, see the one person she would always miss the most. There was something akin to peace that laid in that discovery.

Her eyes fell shut. Colors swam around her closed eyelids as her hand first slipped from her stomach. And then, slowly, from the rail of the chariot moving faster than the speed of sound.

• • •

Nico di Angelo was unable to fall asleep.

For the past few days, the voices of the dying had been filling his head, growing louder and louder with every passing days. They screamed when he tried to close his eyes, and they screamed whenever he was awake. It had been...four days since he had last slept? Five? Without Will there to remind him, Nico had lost count.

And that was the other thing: Will. Hazel had left earlier that morning, and there was still no sign of Will, even after the day had passed. So the desire to fall asleep had long ago vanished, replaced instead by anxiety. So maybe it wasn't all that bad.

Currently, Nico was holding the hand of a young girl, a daughter of Hermes, that had been stabbed on a mission. She was only nine years old, and close to dying. Her eyes were scrunched up, and she was softly moaning in pain. Nico wished that he was able to alleviate her pain, but that wasn't how his powers worked. Unless she was balancing on the brink of death, there was nothing that Nico could do.

"I don't want to die." It was one of the voices, crying out for his help from the deep murkiness of reality that separated them.

"Yeah, well that makes two of us," Nico muttered.

"What?" asked the girl, her face screwed up in pain. Gods, what was her name? Why couldn't he remember?

He forced a smile onto his face. "Nothing. Try to fall asleep, if you can."

It was stupid to give pointless advice, advice that he himself was unable to follow. But it was about all that Nico could do.

"It hurts," the girl whined softly.

"I know," Nico murmured. "But it'll be okay."

That was the promise he knew that he'd never be able to keep, but it was all Nico could do.

"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep."

The voice in his head was so young, probably younger than the girl laying down beside him. The last two years had been nothing but death and dying.

"No!"

Nico winced at the sudden shout inside his head, followed by an even more painful silence. His grip tightened around the young girl's wrist; he tried to save as many people as he could, but Nico could never save all of them.

"If only Cameron were here."

That voice. It was familiar, in a distant way. Nico frowned; Cameron was a common name, but how common was it to have someone dying mention that name a few days after Nico had contacted Cameron?

So Nico closed his eyes and searched for the source of the voice. Slowly, the feeling of the girl's hand faded and was replaced by the familiar blackness as Nico attempted to locate the voice.

The strings appeared, so colorful in the darkness. Each one emitted a small glow, just enough to be visible. But there were so many tangled together, so many that had been leached of all color and light.

"Hello?" he called out, praying that the person was alive enough to respond.

"Cameron?" the voice asked, too soft and too faded. Too far gone.

But it was coming from a cinnamon-brown colored string that was tangled with many different strings, the most noticeable being a faded pink one. He frowned at the sight of it, but didn't hesitate to grab the brown string.

"No," said Nico to the voice, his tone growing soft, much softer than he would have ever used in his old life. But that life, when he was young and stupid, was gone. "My name is Nico di Angelo. Who are you?"

"Drew Tanaka. Where's Cameron?"

Drew Tanaka. Of all people, it was the bitch of a demigod who had the habit of pouncing on any boy she had the chance to grab back at Camp Half-Blood. They had only met in passing, seeing as Nico preferred to stay away from everyone, frankly. But her demanding words were almost enough to make Nico laugh. He slowly began to drift into Drew's consciousness. She was so far gone that it was all too easy. And soon, Nico was no longer sitting in a chair, clutching the hand of a young girl. Instead, he was slipping off the back of a golden chariot.

"What did I tell you?" shouted a voice from behind Nico. "Hold on, Drew!"

Nico didn't bother to correct Clarisse, who was the only person he knew capable of shouting louder than the wind. Nico slowly looked around, finding it difficult to ascertain where he was. The fast blur of everything rushing past made him somewhat nauseated. Nico looked down, trying to shake off the feeling of sickness. A gruesome sight greeted his gaze. His guts were spilling out of him. Well, not his, but Drew's. It was no wonder she was so close to dying. It was almost a miracle that she was still alive.

Straight ahead from where Nico was struggling to stand in Drew's body was Hazel, riding Arion. A rush of relief flooded through Nico at the sight of his sister, despite it only being a few hours since the last time he had seen her. But the thought of someone else that he loved never returning from a mission was more than enough to make Nico sick.

Chris was there, the boy's last name escaping from Nico's memory. And, of all surprises, so was Grover, the satyr who had befriended Percy Jackson long before Nico had discovered who he truly was. Grover, who had been missing almost as long as Percy, was standing there as if no time had passed at all.

Tearing his gaze away from the impossibility of Grover, Nico looked to his right and saw Annabeth Chase standing there, her stormy gray eyes looking unfocused as she stared into the distant horizon. Nico's heart skipped a beat looking at her; Hazel's mission was to save her, but it wasn't until Nico stared into Annabeth's familiar eyes that he realized the daughter of Athena was alive.

Annabeth was alive.

But, while her eyes remained the same, there was so much about the girl that was different.

Scars decorated her body. Some were small, like the one across her right cheekbone. It was pale and white, almost delicate. But there were others that were red and brutal, and those seemed to be heavily located on her wrists and arms, from what Nico could see as the world swam around them. There didn't seem to be an inch of Annabeth's skin that was unmarked.

And there were other differences, too. The proud glow in her eyes was gone; her gaze was somewhat tarnished and hollow, as if she were missing the most important piece of herself. And maybe she was, seeing as Percy had long ago vanished.

"Am I dying?" Drew's voice asked in Nico's head, somehow sounding unafraid.

"I can heal you," Nico said quietly, just loud enough for Drew to hear.

"I didn't know healing was a gift of Hades," Drew scoffed, sounding skeptical, even on the verge of death.

"I didn't know bitchiness was a gift of Aphrodite," retorted Nico, setting his hand onto Drew's stomach.

It took concentration, especially since the chariot was going faster than the speed of sound, and Drew's body barely held enough strength to stand up, let alone hold on. But somehow, Nico managed to at least put Drew's stomach back inside her body, the only trace of the damage being the remaining blood.

"Hopefully, that works," muttered Nico, releasing a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "You're not dying today, Tanaka."

"How are you doing this?" her voice asked.

"Call it a curse," Nico grumbled, "and blame Zeus. That's what I do, anyways. He blamed my father for the Earth Mother rising again, who knows why, and cursed his children. He said we should feel personally responsible for every person that dies. And now, I can hear the voice of every person that's dying."

"That's horrible."

Drew's voice was soft, incredibly so. It sounded so much like Bianca's, so much like that warmth and trust that had long ago abandoned Nico.

"But this is Hecate's magic, allowing me to be in control of your body. She hates Zeus, and will do anything to spite him. Including this and the healing; it's one last chance to save the voices I hear."

"And you decided to save me. Why?"

"Because you said Cameron," said Nico, beginning to feel truly sick from the impossibly fast horse, "and I saved him; I felt like it was too much of a coincidence."

"You saved Cameron? Where is he?"

"To be completely honest, I thought he was with you guys."

Nico's stomach, his real stomach, the one inside his body and not Drew's, lurched; he had been with Drew for too long. Already, he could feel his consciousness ebb away.

"I'll find him as quickly as possible," said Nico hastily, "and tell Annabeth to consider my debt paid."

"She's not going to remember any debt," scolded Drew's voice.

"Good to know," was all Nico had time to say before he forced himself back into his own body, leaving Drew behind on the golden chariot hundreds of miles away.

The young girl was still in the bed, whimpering softly as beads of sweat rolled down her face. Nico's heart was racing, but he forced himself to mutter words of encouragement to her.

This was two times that he had done it in under a week, two times he had left his own body and fallen into somebody else's. Nico could feel himself fading away, more of a shadow than a person. His life was ebbing away, rapidly disappearing. And Nico couldn't find it inside himself to care.

Through a small opening in the flap of his tent, Nico could see the horizon. It was full of the Sun and clouds and infinite blue sky, but, as usual, it was empty of Will and his promise to come home.

• • •