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Silena was always a light sleeper, one to wake up at the sound of a single floorboard creaking, or at the soft sounds of whispers across the room. That trait had only grown stronger after the war, courtesy of the PTSD.
The moment that Clarisse threw herself onto the bed, Silena stirred awake. "Is something wrong, 'Risse?" She muttered.
Something was wrong, Clarisse knew that, despite all her denial. It was the type of wrong that she couldn't vanquish in battle, it was deeper under her skin than a blade could ever reach. Clarisse knew that if she took the knife stashed under her pillow and drove it into her bad leg, (bad leg? When did she start to have one of those?) there would be nothing for her to excise in a pool of blood, nothing for her brutality to conquer.
"Oh, nothing's wrong, Silena. Just got set free from the hellhole that is the infirmary, that's all."
She curled around Silena, in a subtly protectively way. Like she always did. She was trying to go back to her routine.
But the wrongness lingered.
Both her legs felt clumsy as she tangled them with her girlfriend's. The same leg that was not much more than a dead weight on the way back from the infirmary had bolt's of pain like Zeus's lightning bolts running up towards her thigh, and it involuntary clenched in pain.
Silena was always more perceptive than Clarisse ever could be. She rolled over and gave Clarisse a knowing stare.
"Something's wrong. Spill, or I'm just going to charmspeak it out of you."
Clarisse knew Silena would never actually do that, she would never breach somebody's privacy like that, but it was still proof of just how serious she was.
Still, the familiar wave of anger that was intertwined with her genes roared up to just below the surface again. She bit her tongue, trying desperately to not cuss out her girlfriend, who was always so patient with her.
"Look. Silena. I'm fine. Just shaken up after landing myself in the infirmary again, and Will was on my ass the whole time after I woke up. He was…."
She trailed off. She was getting too close to what she had been trying to avoid.
Silena didn't respond yet, she just nodded for Clarisse to continue.
She knew that there was a only so much more avoiding she could do. Clarisse's voice dropped to a whisper, as if the walls of the cabin would pick up her speech and tell everyone about her vulnerability like gossip if she spoke too loud.
"My leg's have been acting up. Along with…. everything else. I've fallen more. That's how I ended up in the infirmary. Will's told me that he thinks there's something wrong. I don't fucking know."
Silena took a moment to process that, and told her, voice smooth and self-assured,
"Okay, and? That doesn't surprise me at all. Look, you've done so much, I sure as all hell am not surprised that you've got another injury. What's worrying you? You're more antsy than normal, and don't just tell me it's your ADHD. This is worse than it ever is. You've been fidgeting since you've laid down."
A blush tinged her cheeks, and she made a deliberate effort to stop fidgeting. It only worked halfway.
"I fucking hate to say this more than anything else in the world, but I'm scared, 'Lena. I'm scared that there's something wrong with me and I'm broken. I can't be broken, Silena. I'm a daughter of Ares, I've killed a godsdamned drakon before, and I'm being bested by a fucking tree root!"
Her voice rose throughout her confession, rising almost to a shout. Aware of just how loud she had gotten, Clarisse dropped the volume of her voice again.
"This feels different, this injury. It feels like there's a broken part in my body that isn't superficial, isn't easily fixable. And I don't know what to do if this isn't fixable. It just keeps getting worse and worse and it feels like I can't do anything anymore. It's getting harder to spar and-"
Silena pressed one finger to Clarisse's lips.
"Shhh. So what if your body isn't the epitome of health anymore? Some internal wear and tear is to be expected. And if you're getting worse, then Will and you and I can find a way to work around it. We will find a way. I'll make sure of it."
Clarisse's anger flows into her mouth like stomach acid, and it mixes with a feeling of grief that she couldn't seem to dispel. She shakes her head.
"My fighting is all I'm known for, it's all I'm worth, Silena. And now my body is betraying me in ways that mean I don't know how much longer I'll be able to do that. I can't fucking lose this, Silena. And if I don't have this, who the hell am I?"
The words came out in a rush, a flow of words with barely any order to them, just raw panic and grief.
"If you can't fight again, which I doubt, you will still be the same Clarisse who I love now, and who loved a year ago, and who I will love years from now. What your body can or can't do means nothing to me. You loved me after the drakon, after I became disabled, and I will love you no matter what happens too."
Those words stunned Clarisse for a moment. Yes, she had heard praise and devotion from Silena so many other times, but in that moment it overrode everything around her, all of her pain and fear and uncertainty.
Silena continued,
"And, hey. Maybe you can try my cane. See if it works for you. I'm not getting much use out of it, with my wheelchair and all, so maybe you can get more of a use out of it than I did."
The thought of using a cane, a physical marker of her body's failings, was a horrifying idea. Her weaknesses were not something that she wanted to be broadcasted to anyone she saw.
Then again, falling and stumbling half the time probably did that anyways.
What was the harm of trying it out, just this once?
…
In the Aphrodite cabin, Clarisse tentatively gripped a plain black cane like it was going to bite her.
Silena watched her, a small smile on her face, from where she sat in her wheelchair.
Clarisse's grip on the cane felt odd, initially. An object of this size and shape made her mind follow muscle memory to hold it like a sword or some other weapon, to use it to attack and to brutalize.
But, when she leaned her weight on it, the lighting bolts that were assaulting her legs lightened. She felt less like her body would collapse at any moment. It wasn't perfect, no, but it made a difference, as much as she was loathe to admit it.
"How is it, darling?"
"It's not too bad. I guess."