Work Text:
Clarisse was intimately familiar with the walls of the infirmary, so much so that when she cracked her eyes open, she instantly knew where she was, despite having no memory of the events that had led her there.
Same ceiling, same walls with mysterious stains on them, same concerned healer looking over her as she gained consciousness.
She had spent enough time in the infirmary in the past few weeks to even know that she was in the second to last bed on the left wall.
As her vision slowly came into focus, she got a better look at the expression on Will's face. His eyebrows were more furrowed than usual, and he looked almost uncharacteristically concerned.
Oh shit.
That was never a good thing.
Every other of the numerous times she had shown up in the infirmary, he had looked, at most, mildly peeved at just how often she had been showing up there as of late.
Whenever he actually looked concerned for her, rather than giving her a bemused smile, she knew that something was actually wrong.
She had only seen that expression a few times before.
Clarisse had seen a nearly identical one on Lee back when she broke her wrist, and brushed it off for weeks because she didn't think it was actually broke.
And she saw it again, when she had peeked around the corner of the infirmary entrance after the Battle of the Labyrinth, when Micheal had to break it to Will that Lee was gone.
And one last time, when Will told her about Silena's chances of survival. When he told her that if she lived, she would never be the same again.
That expression never boded well.
Instead of voicing any of that, she instead ever so eloquently mumbled at Will,
"The hell do ya want?"
It came out a little more slurred than usual, like her mouth was just a few steps behind her brain. Her mouth had been doing that more recently. Consonants would slur into each other, like her tongue was too big for her mouth.
Nobody had noticed except for Silena. But it still was a lingering worry in the back of her mind. She pushed it away towards all the other things that she pretended that didn't exist as long as she didn't think about it.
It tended to creep back whenever she was in the infirmary. It whispered to her that maybe she should mention it to Will, that maybe something was wrong.
She would never do that, of course.
Something wasn't wrong with her. She knew that.
Clarisse sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, and immediately had to clutch onto the bedframe, white knuckled, as a wave of dizziness washed over her.
Her body leant forward, pulled by gravity. She braced her body, feeling like she was going to topple at any moment.
Black dots spilled from her peripheries like blood into the rest of her vision, narrowing it into a pinpoint. She stared at the one point of vision that remained, waiting and willing for her vision to return.
She heard Will's shoes against the linoleum of the infirmary floor as he rushed towards her. His footfalls were in time with the blood rushing through her ears.
A hand- Will's hand was placed on her shoulder. Both in a form of comfort, and also as a way to support her if she collapsed. He was probably trying to be subtle with that second part. He knew that she would push away any form of support of he was too obvious about it, and Clarisse could tell that he was trying to get around that fact.
As much as she hated even this small bit of weakness, she couldn't even muster up the strength to swat Will away like she usually would.
Eventually, the infirmary stopped feeling like it was both floating away and crashing down around her, and Clarisse sat up fully. She quickly surveyed her body, attempting to get a grasp of the situation that had led up to here, as Will cleared his throat to speak.
There was a bandage around one of her ankles, and she could distinctly feel one around her head. And, judging by the throbbing headache she had, she had probably hit her head quite hard during whatever event had landed her in the infirmary.
Will's voice was almost…. nervous, like he was broaching a topic that he didn't want to bring up
"Look. Clarisse. We need to talk. All these times that you're showing up here can't be just coincidences anymore. You accidentally gouge yourself with your weapons weekly, and you fall down in the arena so often that I'm surprised I don't see you in here more often. Just today you fell so badly that you knocked yourself out. I'm really starting to worry that there's something wrong-"
"There is nothing wrong with me, Will."
Clarisse snapped. Her voice was filled with barely hidden anger, anger that gave way to a barely decipherable hint of fear.
"Clarisse. You need to be honest here. I really do think something's happened, especially with how much you get into fights and get injured."
Clarisse couldn't stand to think about that. The idea that she had an injury worse than one of the many gashes across her skin or a broken bone - or, gods forbid, something far worse and far more permanent, stole the air straight out of her chest.
And the fact that Will very well could be right made it that much more horrifying.
"Solace, you idiot. I'm just having a bad week. Or month. Or…whatever. Just fuck off. It's none of your business."
"Actually, Clarisse, you know, it is my business. Being the healer, and all, you really-"
"No, Will. Drop it. I'm not having this conversation with you. I am fine. I'm just distracted lately, and that's all. I'm a child of Ares, Will. I wouldn't be affected by some sort of battle acquired injury. You of all people should know that,"
She stood up, and ignoring the lingering dizziness, and stormed out of the infirmary. One leg dragged slightly, and then buckled, on the way out.
On the way to the Ares cabin, she tripped over a tree root and stumbled more than she ever used to a year ago.
She was fine, she told herself.
She wasn't sick, she tried to convince herself.
She flopped down on her bed, bedside her napping girlfriend, and tried not to think about any of it.
It didn't work.