Chapter Text
Nectar and Ambrosia can do a lot. Without them, Will’s job would be much harder and much more tragic. Most injuries that come through the Big House infirmary can be fixed with just a square of the food of the gods, and sometimes with an ice pack, ace bandages, or some bandaids. It doesn’t stop Will from spending hours every night studying university level medical textbooks, for those injuries that need more complicated care. The textbooks, of course, don’t mention demigods or healing powers or fighting monsters. They do mention things like Chronic Fatigue and POTS, which Will wants to find a way to bring up to Nico without being pushy. The textbooks also have lists of long-term consequences to injuries that demigods can usually heal within a few hours. Once, Will thought that meant he’d never have to use those pages. He was much less naive now.
In the last few years, the demigods had struggled through two wars. Dozens, maybe hundreds of demigods had died, and those that had survived were not left unscarred. In the aftermath of the most recent battle, Will had gone from giving stitches and nectar to the recently wounded, to treating people whose pain never really went away anymore, who couldn’t sleep for nightmares, and who were struggling to walk where they had once sprinted with weapons drawn.
Ambrosia and nectar couldn’t do much for chronic ailments. Will rationed out a few crumbs to ease the pain, and began researching, making plans with Lou Ellen and Cecil, his closest friends. His job at camp was to help people. Currently, in order to help those people, he needed more resources and more knowledge.
The first time Jason collapsed, during sword training, he chalked it up to days in a row of bad sleep, and got right back to his feet, hands shaking slightly on his Imperial gold blade as he turned back to face a worried Percy.
The second time Jason collapsed, he was on his morning run. Sitting on the forest floor, alone, with his head pounding, he struggled to form a coherent thought. It took all too long for him to remember he had supplies. He fumbled in his pocket for the ambrosia he’d started carrying everywhere, and waited for the effects to wash away the pain throbbing in his skull, before pulling himself to his feet and stumbling back to camp.
The third time Jason collapsed, it was on the walk from Cabin 1 to the Dining Pavilion, in full view of half the camp. His legs had felt a little shaky as he left the cabin, and halfway along the path, his vision had gone blurry and his knees had given out from under him. When he blinked the fog away, Percy, Annabeth and Nico were kneeling on the damp grass beside him.
“Dude, what happened?” Percy asked, offering Jason a hand.
Jason tried to respond that he was fine, but all his words seemed to blend together into unintelligible mush.
“We need to take him to Will,” Annabeth said, concern creasing her face. “Something’s very wrong.”
“Can you stand?” Percy tried to pull Jason to his feet, but the world was spinning and Jason was tipping sideways onto the ground again. His head was pounding, and he felt like he was about to throw up, even though he hadn’t eaten since last night.
“I can shadow travel us to the infirmary," Nico said, putting an arm under Jason’s shoulder.
“Didn’t Will ban you from shadow travel?” Percy asked, “I can probably carry him.”
“The ban’s lifted, I’ve been corporeal for two weeks,” Nico said.
“Comforting,” Percy muttered.
Nico ignored her. “Can you stand a little to the left, I need a shadow.”
Percy stepped sideways, blocking the sun from Jason’s eyes. In a moment, everything went black. Then Jason was splayed out on linoleum floors, and Nico was leaning heavily on the wall beside him, swaying slightly.
The lights were bright, and one fluorescent bulb flickered in the corner. It made Jason’s headache worse, and he shut his eyes, swallowing down nausea.
“Nico?” Will’s voice sounded from an office, “Did you just shadow-travel here? I told you to stop- is Jason okay?”
“He collapsed outside,” Nico said, sounding tired. “Percy was about to try and carry him, but this seemed quicker. Stop that, I’m fine!”
Then Will was crouched in front of Jason on the floor, and Jason forced himself to open his eyes, trying to focus his vision.
“Jason, can you hear me? Just nod if yes,” Will started, pulling a stethoscope out of his cargo shorts pocket.
Jason nodded. Even that motion made his head pound. He reached instinctively for his own pocket, where he’d started keeping a ziploc of ambrosia crumbs to try and dampen that pain. His hand was shaking too much to manage the small plastic bag, and it fell to the floor.
Will opened the bag and handed Jason some of the contents. “You’re in pain?”
Jason nodded.
“Take this, then, and we can talk when the pain eases.”
Jason gulped the ambrosia down. Within seconds, the headache eased to a dull, ignorable throb. His vision came back into focus, the lights felt a little less bright, and his hands were a little less shaky.
“Right, let's get you onto a bed, and I can ask you some questions. Nico, can you grab me a clipboard, pen, and my penlight?”
“On it!” Nico was still a little unsteady on his feet, a hand on the wall to help him as he walked into Will’s office and started shuffling through drawers.
“So, you collapsed outside a few minutes ago, then?” Will started, taking the clipboard from Nico when he returned.
“Yes. But I’m fine now, I just needed some ambrosia,” Jason started to push himself into a standing position.
“Oh no you don’t,” Will scolded. “Healthy people don’t just collapse out of nowhere. Did you get hit in the head again recently?”
Jason scowled a bit at the ‘again’. Clearly, stories of his two concussions in two days hadn’t stayed on the Argo II. “No, I haven’t.”
“And you were in pain, as well. Where does it hurt, or did it, I guess, before the ambrosia?”
“My head.”
“Hmm. Have you felt dizzy or lightheaded recently?”
“Maybe a little.”
“And is this the first time you’ve collapsed?”
“...no. I fell down while running a couple days ago, and during sword practice the day before that,” Jason admitted.
“And you didn’t come see me then?”
“I was fine after I had some ambrosia.”
“Yes, completely fine,” Will deadpanned. “Jason, something is clearly wrong. Can I give you a proper physical?”
“If you must.”
Jason was finally discharged around midmorning, with instructions to avoid training or strenuous activity, and to come back the next day after Will had some time to research and talk with Chiron. Jason had reluctantly agreed.
While Jason paced in his cabin, not allowed himself to train, and avoiding his friends so they wouldn’t ask him questions, Will began pulling textbooks off the shelves of the infirmity and scouring the pages, fidgeting absently with a pipette as he squinted at the tiny words. His examination of Jason had made one thing clear - it may have been over a month since he’d been knocked out twice in two days, but the effects of such head trauma were not going away. Jason had admitted that he’d been having headaches most days since the skirmish at New Rome, and that he’d been getting blurry vision not fixed by his glasses for several weeks. He hadn’t admitted to any problems with memory or speech, and given his history, Will had felt awkward pushing the matter, but he had made note of Jason getting distracted, zoning out mid-sentence, and stumbling over his words multiple times.
Something was wrong with Jason’s brain, and regardless of the hours Will had spent reading medical textbooks and studying to one day go to university despite having lived full-time at camp since middle school, Will was not a qualified doctor.
“Chiron, I think Jason needs to go to a mortal hospital,” Will approached the Centaur that afternoon, as Chiron returned from teaching archery.
“Oh?” Chiron pressed, as Will fell into step beside him.
“I think he might have a brain injury,” Will continued, “I can’t treat that, and if something's wrong with his brain, that could become dangerous. I think he needs an MRI, proper tests. Stuff we can’t do at camp.”
Chiron nodded thoughtfully. “It isn’t unheard of, sending campers to a mortal hospital. The paperwork is always a little tricky, as is the cost, but the strawberries have done well, despite everything.”
Will nodded, feeling relieved. “Thank you, sir. I’ll let Jason know.”
Jason had never been to a mortal hospital. Well, maybe as a baby, but he had no memory of his life before Camp Jupiter, where he’d been left as a two-year-old by his mother, to appease Hera. Camp Jupiter has its own clinic, and New Rome had a small hospital that mixed mortal medicine with magic. Nothing could have prepared Jason for the expansive sterility of the hospital he’d been driven to today.
Jason was accompanied by Chiron in the wheelchair he used to disguise his horse half, as well as by Will, who was wearing close-toed shoes for once. Argus, the many-eyed camp security guard, had stayed in the van. The hospital was loud and bright, and Jason wished he could cover his ears and close his eyes, but he forced himself to follow the others. His head was pounding, despite the ambrosia he’d taken this morning.
Jason hated the MRI machine. It was loud and claustrophobic and he felt trapped, on high alert the whole time that one of the doctors could be a monster in disguise. As he forced himself to stay still in the metal tube, he went through scenarios in his mind of how he would fight off a monster if attacked now. He didn’t like the idea of fighting in the paper hospital gown, without even his coin-sword.
Finally, the machine was done, Jason was back in the van staving off his headache with more ambrosia, and Argus was driving back to camp.
It was a few weeks later when the results came. Will arrived at the door to Cabin 1 in the afternoon, finding Jason throwing punches at the air. Jason felt his blood run cold. Will looked worried.
“Sit down,” Will suggested, sitting on the floor behind the statue of Zeus in the middle of the cabin. Jason sat on the floor as well.
“So, the good news is it would be much worse if you weren’t a demigod,” Will started.
“That isn’t comforting,” Jason mumbled, his words melting together slightly.
“Sorry. The bad news is that you have a Traumatic Brain Injury. It’s a mild case, which is shocking considering what caused it, but given it’s still affecting you this long after your injuries, it’s not good,” Will continued, staring at his notes to avoid meeting Jason’s eyes. “A TBI can cause a lot of problems, including dizziness, loss of balance, headaches, blurry vision, memory problems, trouble concentrating, trouble sleeping… I’ve written out the whole list.”
Jason nodded, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “It’s curable, right?”
“It's treatable,” Will said. “Or at least, the symptoms are. And yours aren’t too severe. Physiotherapy to help with coordination, medication for the headaches, avoiding further head injuries.”
“The ambrosia’s been helping,” Jason said, “Do I need other medication?”
“Ambrosia isn’t supposed to be used constantly,” Will said, “you know how demigods have the danger of spontaneous combustion if they eat too much in one sitting? Well, eating ambrosia too consistently can have the same effect. You feel restless and buzzy, your blood burns too hot, and you burn up. Best not to keep using it as your pain relief. I’ll figure out how to make a prescription for something mortal.”
“Physiotherapy,” Will continued, “Is something Chiron can help with. And I have a suggestion of my own.”
“Yeah?” Jason asked.
“Lou Ellen and I have been working together on a plan. You aren’t the only demigod dealing with the consequences of the last two wars. On days where you’re shaky and having trouble walking or balancing, how do you feel about a wheelchair?”
Jason shook his head immediately, “No way! I can’t fight in a wheelchair!”
Will sighed, muttering to himself, “should have started small.” To Jason, he suggested, “A cane, then? Lou Ellen is figuring out a way to mimic the effects some magical weaponry has, like Percy’s sword. Have a small, inconspicuous object that can expand and turn into a mobility aid. We haven’t had a chance to test the theory, though, most demigods react about as well as you just did to the idea of using an aid.”
“Well if it helps you out,” Jason sighed, after a long silence, “I guess I could try using a cane. For a little while, until this is fixed.” He tapped the side of his head.
Lou Ellen was a child of Hecate, and one of Will’s best friends. Most of the time, she used her magic for mischief. Turning people into pigs for a few hours was her favourite trick. However she was just as good at using magic to be helpful. Will had convinced Connor Stoll to buy (not steal) a sleek wooden cane from wherever the Stoll brothers acquired their merchandise. Now, the cane lay on the floor of Will’s office, and Lou Ellen was scribbling Greek letters into the wood with a ball-point pen, muttering the whole time.
“What are you going to shrink it down into?” Will asked, “A pen?”
“That idea’s been used before,” Lou Ellen said, not looking up, “I was thinking… a watch. No, Percy’s got that too. A ring? No, that's not right for Jason. A paperclip? Too boring.”
“So the answer is no, you don’t know,” Will chuckled.
Lou Ellen stuck her tongue out at him.
Two days later, Will knocked on Cabin 1’s door again. Jason opened it, looking worse for wear. He was leaning heavily on the doorframe, squinting like the light from the door hurt. Every light inside the cabin was out.
“I’ve brought gifts,” Will said, keeping his voice down since Jason was clearly fighting another headache. “First, your first lot of prescription pain medication. Take every 6 hours with food.”
Jason took the blister pack from Will and immediately popped the first pill out, dry-swallowing it. Will grimaced.
“I also have this,” he said a second later, holding out a small swish-army knife. “These are all normal tools, but when you pull the corkscrew out…”
Will demonstrated, and suddenly he was holding a simple wooden cane. “Lou added a bit of extra magic so it will adjust to your height.”
Will spent a couple more minutes with Jason, showing him how to walk with the cane, and how to return it to pocket-sized, before leaving Jason to process things alone.
Left in the dark room, his first dose of painkillers beginning to push the headache to the side, Jason turned the cane over and over in his hands. It felt like giving up, using it, but he had to admit after weeks of swaying when standing, stumbling over his feet, and leaning on any available surface when no one was looking, the cane did help. He took a few experiment steps across the cabin. Its weight felt comfortable in his hands, and, taking his coin-sword out of his pocket, he could learn to fight like this if needed.
Jason still avoided using the cane until he absolutely had to, but a couple days later, after struggling to walk back from the arena, stumbling every other step, he withdrew the knife from his pocket and summoned it. As he walked into the circle of cabins, still slow but much more steady, he was shocked to see that he wasn’t the only camper with a cane. It seemed that Will and Lou Ellen’s plan to get aids to campers who’d been through two wars worth of injuries was working.
One familiar person stood out in the group. Standing beside Percy, leaning causally on a black cane as she talked, was Annabeth.
So Jason wasn’t the only of the 7 heroes who needed the help, then. That made him feel better, somehow.