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Chapter Thirteen

Calypso’s face paled, almost as much as Leo’s.

“Um . . .” Calypso didn’t want to say something that would frighten Leo, nor did she want to say anything in fear of Leo hearing how scared she was.

“Let—let me help you to the cave,” she said.

“How are we going to do that? I don’t think you can carry me, with all my muscle and stuff,” Leo replied. Calypso resisted the urge to laugh.

“This isn’t a time for games, Leo, or jokes. You could be seriously hurt,” she scolded. Leo knew Calypso had carried him before, because he somehow went from one side of the island to Calypso’s bed on the other side of the island. Leo knew Calypso couldn’t carry Leo this time, however.

“Where are you going?” Leo called after Calypso after he turned around to watch her run to the tarp.

“I can’t carry you, Leo, with all your ‘muscle’, but I can drag you,” she told him. She pulled over the tarp and knelt next to him. She looked Leo in the eyes. Leo was worried, and he knew she knew this, yet he still hid something, something important.

Before he could say anything, she kissed him lightly and rolled him onto the extra bits of tarp. Leo complained, whined, and groaned all the way back to the cave.

"Oh calm down, Leo! It was hardly 100 yards.” Calypso rolled her eyes at him. She pushed him off of the tarp and onto her bed. He looked at her as she poked his legs.

“Must have been something on Zylon’s sword,” she muttered, probably hoping Leo didn’t hear her, and even though he did, he didn’t mention it.

“Can you feel this?” she asked, as she repeatedly poked his thighs, calves, knees,  feet, and other various leg parts. He shook his head each time.

“What about now?” She started poking harder and harder until she was almost karate-chopping his leg.

“No, I can’t feel it, but I’m pretty sure you’re gonna give me a couple hundred bruises,” he moaned. She sighed.

“Let me see your wound,” she said, moving back up to his torso. She pushed the shoulder of his shirt off. Leo winced. He could see that Calypso was trying her hardest not to vomit.

“How’s it look?” he asked lamely, rolling his head towards her. She waved her hand.

“Fine, fine,” she lied. The wound was oozing a strange yellow liquid, as well as pus and blood.

“Can you not smell anything?” Calypso questioned, holding a finger to her nose as she waved her hand around in a futile attempt to rid the room of some scent. Leo shook his head.

“My nose has been clogged for days, Can’t smell a thing,” Leo said.

“Good,” Calypso murmured. Leo could tell she was contemplating some problems in her head. When she opened her eyes again, new-found energy and motivation seemed to coursed through her. She set to work.

Treatment after treatment. She tried to stop the oozing, but every couple of minutes, she had to changed the rags on Leo’s shoulder. Somewhere around the fourth rag, Leo fell asleep for exhaustion, and the pain that appeared in his shoulder. Minute after minute, hour after hour, Calypso worked on Leo’s shoulder.

Eventually, she started crying.

She threw down the old rag in anger and fell backwards, tears streaming freely down her cheeks and onto the floor. She buried her head in her hands. Leo couldn’t do anything to help; he was too weak. It made him feel terrible. Eventually Calypso looked up at Leo.

Calypso brushed the back of her fingers against his cheek, as the tears fell down from her eyes like rain.

“Oh, Leo, what did that wicked man do to you?” she whispered. His face twitched and relaxed at the sound of her voice and the warmth of her skin. Leo closed his eyes, and let himself drift off into the realm between consciousness and unconsciousness. In this stage, his body was asleep, but his mind was wide awake. he could hear, feel, and sense everything Calypso was doing.

Suddenly, something changed in Calypso’s body language. She no longer seemed to be crying tears of grief, sadness, and loss, but of anger, and pure fury.

Zylon did this. He came to Calypso’s home and followed her around everywhere she went, Leo presumed it to be a week of torture. Zylon, being the big fat jerk he is, didn’t let her and Leo stay together peacefully when he had arrived, though. Calypso constantly had to put up with the silent war she knew was based around her. Then Zylon attacked Leo. Leo won (of course) but Zylon got a lucky strike. Now, there Leo was, dying. Zylon cheated. Leo could tell Calypso didn’t care about the ‘it’s all fair in love and war’ Zylon was always talking about. They both knew Zylon cheated, and now, Leo was paying for it.

“One lucky strike Leo! Why didn’t you move quicker?” she whispered, putting her hand on his head, “Why didn’t I move quicker? Why didn’t I save you? You’re going to die, because I couldn’t save you.” Her voice broke as hot tears streamed down her face and onto Leo’s already sweat-soaked shirt. She laid her head on his chest and sobbed.

“Hey sweetheart,” Leo croaked after he slowly opened his eyes again. When she lifted her head, Leo got to see her beautiful eyes. Gently, she ran her hands through his hair and forced a smile.

“Don’t cry,” he told her, wiping away her tears. She close her eyes as a stray tear fell. Leo gently stroked her cheek. Neither of them could hardly handle the sadness . . . or in Leo’s perspective . . . the sappiness.

“Leo, why can’t I save you?” Calypso asked, breaking the silence they created. Painfully, Leo shrugged his one good shoulder.

“Maybe, I’m not supposed to be saved,” he replied. Calypso shook her head and stood up.

“No, no. I can’t let you die, Leo. There’s always a cure . . . for everything. We just need to find it. Besides, Hephaestus wouldn’t let you die. He’s your father.” Calypso said. Leo fell silent. This struck Calypso as strange.

“Leo,” she dragged out his name, “Do you know a cure?” Leo shrugged then shook his head, not looking her in the eye. She knelt next  to him and held his face in her hands.

“Tell me, Leo. Please,” she said. He still wouldn’t look at her. She sighed and smacked him across the face.

“Leo Valdez, you tell me where the cure is this second, or I’ll . . . I’ll—”

‘You’ll kill me?” Leo smirked, “Zylon beat you to that one.” He winced. Calypso folded his hands in hers. She lowered her head.

“Please Leo. I need you to tell me. Why won’t you tell me?” she begged, tears reforming in her eyes. Sighing melodramatically, Leo looked straight into her eyes.

“The boys’ fight will break her heart,the tonic for his life, saved in the chart," he said, repeating the last two lines of his prophecy. Calypso’s eyes widened.

“A prophecy,” she gasped, “Of course.” She let go of Leo’s hand and ran to the back of her cave. Laying unopened for many years—too long to count—was a chest. She unlocked it with the key that sat beneath it, and sank to her knees. Wildly digging through the many papers, empty vials, and other various things, Leo heard Calypso mumbling under her breath.

“Come on,” she said louder through her gritted teeth. Finally, she reached the bottom. Pulling out a box, she happily ran back to Leo.

“Is this it? Does it have the cure?” she asked, a smile peeking at the edges of her lips.

“Maybe,” Leo groaned. He tried sitting up, but Calypso pushed him back down, yet again, her smile never wavering. Leo pulled the strange key he had acquired at the junkyard out of his toolbelt, but he was too weak to lift his hand much further. She placed the box next to him and grabbed his hand. She helped him slide the key into the box. There was a click. She looked at him and beamed. He returned it with a weak smile of his own.

“Ready?” She asked. He nodded.

“Ready.” Together, they turned the key, hearing another click, and the box unlatching.  

Written by Volleyballstar11 and AgelessQuest

Edited by Volleyballstar11