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Will was tired. Not just in his usual way, his overworked way, but something… different. That, plus the constant sick feeling, the photosensitivity, the muscle pains; they were all affecting his work in the infirmary. He was needed, he couldn't take a break. He was the only healer who knew how to do certain procedures, the only one who could handle the nightshift without losing it the next day. Sure, be was training up Austin and Kayla, but that takes time, and energy. Energy he didn't have.
It all started a few weeks ago, when he woke up one morning after a very stressful capture the flag game led to him overusing his powers. The day after, Will felt like he was hungover. He wasn't exactly a stranger to this feeling, being an older camper, he liked to go to some of the parties that the Hermes cabin would host. But… He hadn't gone to a party. He hadn't drank. He just overworked himself, something he had done many times before.
After a few days, that sick feeling had gone away. That is, at first. But then, it happened again. He went into the city with Nico to go on their one year anniversary date, where he had the time of his life. The next day, however, Will had those exact same symptoms, which he chalked up to getting the flu. It's New York City, there's germs everywhere, it wouldn't be surprising that he picked up a bug along the way. However, when he took a flu test, it came back negative. He brushed it off, and waited it out.
But this kept happening. He'd do something big, and he's getting the flu. Or whatever illness was mimicking the flu. It was starting to take a toll on him.
He had to start putting off dates with Nico, stating that he was "too tired, but maybe next week Neeks."
He'd have to go outside with sunglasses on, because the sun was getting too bright for him, a child of Apollo.
But he was strong, he was an army medic, he had survived two wars, he was one of the strongest demigods of this generation, he could handle this. He didn't need help.
It all took a turn for the worse the next time the Hunters came to camp. Of course, there was the classic capture the flag game, which Will secretly hated, but couldn't complain about. Of course, one of the new Hunters got a bit overzealous and embedded an arrow straight into an 11-year-old's heart. Will rushed over to save them, his heart pounding from the exertion that his body refused to handle these days. Using every last drop of his energy, he managed to heal the poor kid, just as Will passed out.
When he woke up to the bright, smothering lights in the infirmary, Will knew he was fucked. He tried to deny it, to ignore it, but deep down, he knew that something had changed.
His siblings and boyfriend frantically fretted over him, but Will brushed them off. He was fine, didn't they know? He just pushed himself a little to far, it wouldn't happen again.
From then on, his limbs moved a little slower, and that mysterious flu came on quicker and more unprovoked each time.
Nico got worried about him, of course, the amazing boyfriend that he was, and begged Will to go to the infirmary, or Chiron, or hell, even a mortal doctor, couldn't he see how sick he was?
Again, in denial, he placated his boyfriend, playing with his hair like he knew he liked, while assuring him that he knew what he was doing, and would get help if he really needed.
They cuddled that night, as Nico remarked how warm Will felt to the touch, how nice that was for cuddling. Will, on the other hand, felt the fever he was experiencing and had only one thought. How had he gotten so sick this quickly?
Even though he had brushed of Nico, the next time Will was down in Texas visiting his Mom, he went in for an appointment with a doctor. Just out of curiosity, because Will was still able to handle it perfectly fine. All of the bloodwork, all the tests, came back normal. On paper, Will was completely fine. At this point, he sure as hell didn't feel that way.
He ended up in one of those crashes yet again after this appointment. It was a mystery as to why.
Back in the infirmary, he started to do his own research. There was no harm in it, he thought, since the doctors back home were being useless. Over and over, throughout his research, one condition came up over and over again. Myalgic Encephalomyelitis/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. ME/CFS.
It fit his symptoms perfectly. But, he wasn't that sick! He could still walk. Sort of. As long as it was slow. And the ground was flat. And he could hold on to someone while he was doing it. And he could still take care of himself, if you ignored his fainting in the shower and the sheer effort it took to brush his teeth each day.
Maybe this condition wasn't as different from his experience as he thought.
Maybe he was that sick.
In spite of all of this, Will insisted to himself that he could still work out in the infirmary. It was his purpose, what he was known for, how he contributed to camp. Besides, even though it was taxing, he loved it. Being able to help others was what brought him joy, he loved teaching his siblings all of the skills he had learned from his siblings before him.
It all came crashing down on him in a brain-fog induced haze when, carrying a box of his supplies, his legs gave up. He ended up on the ground in front of all his siblings and friends, surrounded by gauze and his shame.
When Kayla asked what was up with him, hours later, back in their cabin, Will broke. He explained it all to her, the mysterious flu, the body-wide pains, the constantly getting worse. And the term that was always in the back of his mind. ME/CFS. And the prognosis that came with it: No known treatment or cure.
Kayla, his favourite sibling (don't tell Austin that), was immediately sympathetic. Everyone could tell Will had been off for a while know and was happy to finally know what was going on.
And then she suggested the thing that Will had been purposefully been ignoring: had he ever looked into a mobility aid? They could help his ever weakening legs, and help him save some of his precious energy.
He knew that the Apollo cabin was accessible, after Chloe, his older sister who was also a power chair user, moved into camp. Sure, she was gone now (hopefully in Elysium), but the cabin, and most of camp, remained accessible.
Relenting, for the first time in a long time, Will agreed. Together, along with Austin and Nico, he decided on a rollator. It was yellow (so that it could suit his sunshine-y demeanor, Nico suggested), and had a seat built in. He said it was only for his bad days, for the days he spent in PEM (Post Exertional Malaise, a term he learned during the late-night researching, a term that finally described those flu like episodes he always got.). He knew, however, that this rollator would soon become a staple of his days.
Later that day, laying in bed, with the lights off, in Cabin 13, alone, Will reminisced. How lucky he was before he was sick, when he could still run and chase after his younger siblings with ease. He missed the feeling of running, of the wind in his hair, of the feeling of his feet hitting the earth.
He laid there, wondering if he would get even sicker. Sicker, like the people he saw online, in dark rooms, often isolated from society. He didn't know. He couldn't know.
All he could do was wait.