Octivan woke up in a blindingly white room with a stinging pain on his abdomen and feeling like his head and limbs were made of lead.

He groaned and sat up, only to have the world do a flip.

He sat back feeling like he was going to puke.

"Oh-kay. Sitting up is not a good idea." He muttered.

He tried to shift a little, because his legs were asleep and that sensation is not pleasant, only to realize that his legs were being pinned to the hospital-looking bed, complete with railings and all.

By Rachel.

She was asleep. On his legs.

Ouch. Man, what was wrong with him? His memory was foggy, and he was having trouble forming a clear thought. It was like somebody had stuffed his brain with cotton.

His hand fumbled around his abdomen to lift his shirt up so he could find out what the heck hurt so badly...

...only to realize he wasn't wearing a shirt.

Awkward.

Instead, his hand met bare skin and a line of uneven stitches.

Double ouch.

Wait a minute. Stitches?

Why did he have stitches again?

The claw gashes. Duh. Some part of his mind answered.

Oh right. The dracane, the poison, almost dying.

He somewhat remembered the drive to Half-Blood Hill, though he was pretty sure he was hallucinating most of the way.

That, or George Clooney just liked to hang out with Peleus the dragon. Ah, well.

Octivan gripped the railings on the bed and dragged himself up, slowly. Rachel was still pinning his legs to the bed, but Octivan doubted that it would make a difference if she wasn't on his legs. He seriously doubted he could stand, let alone walk, right now. It was painful enough to make him want to cry just shifting a little, and demigods have a high pain tolerance. Stupid dracanes and their stupid poisoned claws.

He said some very nasty curses in Latin.

Then he heard a muffled clang from outside the infirmary door, and an argument.

"Let me in that room this instant. I am a doctor, and I need to check on my patient."

"But Will, he could be dangerous! What if he attacks you?"

"You i̱líthio gami̱méno i̱líthioi! Octivan couldn't hurt a fly right now! For the love of Apollo, let me through!"

The door swing open, and a golden-blonde haired boy with bright blue eyes stormed in, slamming the door behind him.

Octivan blinked slowly. He felt so weird. So slow.

"What'd you call them?" He asked the blonde boy, who looked to be about fifteen or sixteen.

The boy jumped, looking at him startledly.

"You're awake?" Blonde boy asked.

"Of course I am. Romans are tough, you incolent Graceus." Octivan said, being careful not to accidentally slur his words.

Will sighed.

"Okay, I'm pretty much your only friend here, besides Rachel, so drop the front. And when I say 'friend' I mean the I-don't-want-to-kill-you-on-sight-like-some-barbarian kind of friend. I'm a healer, a doctor, not a fighter. I have some sense, unlike some people." Will said the last part loudly, shooting glares like daggers at the door.

Octivan realized that though his bedside wasn't guarded, the infirmary door was. Probably by senior campers. Heavily armed senior campers.

Will seemed to read his expression.

"You're right, you know. There are four of our most skilled fighters posted outside the only door leading in or out of here, archers posted on the rooftops, and traps set up along the windows. This place is inescapable. Unless you have a death wish. If you do, by all means, don't let me stop you. If I were you, I'd personally go with the archers. A quick death." Will advised.

"Bah. Quick deaths are for weaklings. A true Roman dies like a Roman, on his feet, fighting until the last breath." Octivan said dismissively.

They heard a sleepy snort, and Rachel stretched like a cat and sat up, her wild red hair a mess.

"Gods of Olympus. Guys. I get a few hours of sleep, and you guys immediately talk about death? Come on. I can't turn my back on you for two seconds, can I?" She asked.

Octivan laughed, and Will caught a glimpse of the boy under the cruel, arrogant façade. He saw what Rachel had meant.

Octivan leaned his head against her shoulder.

"Yeah, but you love me anyways." He murmured.

She ran her hand through his messy, strawberry-blond hair.

"Course I do." She answered.

They heard a clang as Percy dropped his metal shield, eye twitching.

"Sweet Poseidon! Octivan and Rachel have gone insane and been replaced by alien clones! Ahh!" He shrieked and ran, reminding Octivan of a little girl he had once known in the Legion when he was little.

When he was five.

"Stultus Graeco. Clone non sum." Octivan started to say more, but Rachel cut him off.

"Manners, Octivan. I don't speak Latin, but I did hear Greek and something that sounded like stupid." She warned.

"Whatever." Octivan muttered.

Rachel slapped him.

"Ow! What did you do that for?" He asked, holding his cheek with surprise.

Rachel raised an eyebrow.

"Well, that was for going all protective on me in that alleyway."

Octivan winced.

"I knew I was going to pay for that later. But I couldn't let them hurt you. You may be a decent fighter, but you have no real training." Octivan countered.

Rachel sighed.

"We can have this argument later. But I think I'd be a good idea if we go stop Percy from spreading the word that we're alien clones." Rachel said with a twinkling laugh that made his heart lift.

She stood, then offered him her hand.

Octivan hesitated, and almost as if she could read his mind Rachel paused also.

"I'll help you." She said softly.

Octivan smiled, and took her offered hand. Rachel pulled him up gently, and the world did a slow spin. But he stayed upright, if shakily.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

Then, Will cleared his throat.

"Well, I'm all for going out and all because some fresh air and sunlight will do you good. But you might want to put a shirt on first. Rachel might not mind seeing you shirtless, and it doesn't bother me since I'm a doctor, but it might, ah... unsettle, the other campers." Will said with a small smile.

Octivan's ears turned slightly pink.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Will lent Octivan a plain white T-shirt, and he and Rachel walked slowly outside. Will stayed inside, with excuses like, I have to sort the ambrosia and nectar.

But Rachel thought she caught a glimpse of golden hair at the infirmary window, watching them.

The minute they walked out the infirmary door, the two armed guards circled them and pointed their spears at Octivan's throat.

He blinked, surprised at the two spear points now pressed against his flesh.

Rachel did what her instincts told her. She reacted instantaneously and threw her blue plastic hairbrush that was in her bag at the nearest guard, which smacked him in the face. The fully-armed guard fell flat on his butt.

Rachel stepped back, and Octivan stumbled back with her, since his arm was wrapped around her neck for support.

The other guard stared at her in shock.

"Rachel, we have orders–"

"I don't care what your orders are. All we're going to do is go and visit the beach, and maybe my cave. Then we're going to visit the Big House and have a sit-down with Chiron about the overkill guards. And yes, I'm talking to you, archers. I know your watching us!" Rachel yelled so loudly the guards flinched.

A bow and arrow fell from the roof, and a startled archer almost fell off the roof as he made a wild grab for his bow.

Rachel stalked off, and Octivan stumbled alongside her.