The room was bright, too bright, even though the ceiling was made of dark (probably spruce) wood. Hades shut his eyes with an audible gasp.

Where was he? How did he get here? Who took him? And where the fuck are his clothes?

Well, the clothes he was currently wearing were kind of an improvement... especially since his were, you know, mutilated beyond belief... At least he'd had the sense to change out of his favorite soul robes before he came.

Hades attempted to sit up, but a piercing pain in his arm forced him to stay put. He reached up with his good arm—the one that hadn't been impaled with a spike—to feel his face, and found that there was a bandage covering his cheek. How he hadn't noticed it (or any of the others) before was a mystery.

"Sir?"

Hades's head snapped to the side, and he immediately regretted it when a sharp throbbing invaded his throat (had he gotten punched there?).

Standing at the door was a young boy, probably around ten or so, with shaggy jet-black hair that reached his shoulders and covered his eyes. Hades could feel the power radiating off of him, which was quite unusual, especially with a boy so young.

Hades hadn't even heard him come in.

He narrowed his eyes. "How did you know I was awake?" he asked, wincing at the raspiness in his throat. Yes, he definitely got punched there once or twice.

The boy shifted. "I heard something hit the floor, so I came up to check what it was."

Had it not been for the twitch in his mouth, Hades could have sworn on the Styx that the boy was telling the truth.

The boy walked over to the bedside table and bent down to pick up something. A candlestick, made of tarnished silver. When had that dropped?

"Who are you?"

The boy glanced up from the candlestick to reveal piercing blue eyes, not unlike those of his incredibly annoying blond nephew.

"I'm just a healer, sir."

"Where are your parents?"

The kid tensed. "Mom died about three years ago. Cancer. I've never met my dad."

Sounds about right, though the mother's death was unfortunate. Maybe Hades would look her up later, if he remembered (and learned the woman's name).

"So then how was I healed? I should have died from those wounds."

The kid placed the candlestick on the table, tracing its tarnished filigree absently. "I taught myself some stuff."

Yes, this kid was definitely a demigod. No mortal could heal a god, much less create ways to heal a god.

The kid pulled a chair from the small desk in the corner of the room beside Hades's bed and sat down, wringing his fingers together. "You've been out for about three weeks, sir. Normally, it would have been longer, but you seem to be pretty lucky."

He'd been out for three weeks?

Wait... had this kid been... dressing and bathing him? For three full weeks?

The kid sighs. "Yes, I did." Did he say that out loud? "I had to, to make sure you didn't get dirty so the cuts wouldn't get infected. Besides, no one likes dirty hair and clothes."

What ten year old talked like this?

"For the record, I'm eleven."

Had he said that out loud too? Fates damn him, he'd lost his brain-to-mouth filter, hadn't he?

Well, might as well take advantage of his newfound chattiness. Hades almost didn't want to ask, but he had to know all the same. "Kid, what happened to me?"

The child frowned, a faraway dark look in his eyes. He didn't speak for a moment, and Hades thought that maybe he wouldn't tell. Then the kid opened his mouth.

"It... wasn't good. You had holes going straight through your left bicep and your right calf. Your face, well, your cheek and the skin around your eye, was torn open, almost like claw marks. Four ribs were broken, as well as your right ankle and a couple fingers. When," his voice wavered, "when I found you... you were laying in a puddle of red. It was in your hair, your mouth—" the kid stopped, eyes beginning to well up.

Oh yeah, this was an eleven year old boy. Eleven year old boys aren't meant to see something that traumatic.

Hades decided that he'd unpack all that injury stuff later. In the meantime, he needed to distract the kid otherwise he'd have a crying child in a panic attack and holy fuck he wasn't good with children. Hades floundered for something to say and couldn't stop the first thought from flying out of his mouth.

"Hey kid, what time is it?"

The kid sucked in a breath—most likely to compose himself—and without hesitation (or looking out the window), his still-wavering voice answered, "Twelve thirty-six, sir."

Definitely Apollo's kid. No one else could tell the time without looking at a clock or the sun like that, except for Apollo's kids, who could instinctively feel the sun's position and know exactly what time it was.

"Sir?" Hades had missed the kid's question completely. "Sorry, I was just thinking. What was your question?"

"If you would like lunch, sir."

As if on cue, Hades's stomach growled. The kid cracked a small smile, showing off pearly-white teeth, perfectly straight. Another Apollo trait (admittedly one of the less annoying ones).

"I'll make some food," he said, then peered at Hades curiously and added, "Don't move."

Well, he couldn't even if he wanted to. The kid left the door open on his way out, and Hades was once again alone.

:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:

Considering the fact that it was a freshly-made bowl of broth, lunch didn't take that long to make. It even smelled pretty good.

The horrifying part was that the kid had to spoon-feed him.

Like a child.

He had instructed Hades to keep still and try not to move his arms, so all of Hades's normal tasks were taken up and done for him. This, unfortunately, included eating (and dressing, and bathing, and every other embarrassing thing that Hades did on a daily basis). He wasn't even going to mention his bathroom situation.

Might as well ask the kid some questions, considering he'd be here for a while. Nothing too personal, though; he didn't want to scare the kid off.

"So, kid, how exactly did you come to live in Alaska?"

"Mom visited here when she was a kid, since her grandparents had a summer home here, and she fell in love with it. She moved after she found out she was pregnant with me, said she wanted me to experience the 'joys of Alaska' in my childhood," the kid answered, putting another spoonful of liquid in Hades's mouth.

"If I may ask, sir, what were you doing in Alaska? You're clearly not dressed well enough for the weather here," he pointed out like the insufferable brat he was.

Hades winced. What could he say? He was tracking hundreds of monsters because an ancient force of evil might be awakening to bring the world to ruin? Yes, that was definitely something to say to a half-traumatized eleven year old.

"I'd heard rumours... of a gang." Way to go Hades, you're such a stellar liar. If his suspicions were right, then the kid would pick that out a mile away. "They've been hurting a bunch of people, so I came to stop them. As you can clearly see, I wasn't very successful."

The kid looked like he still wanted to ask something, but said nothing.

Distantly, Hades heard the doorbell jingle.

The kid stood up as though his chair was on fire. "I'll get it. You should get back to sleep."

As soon as he said that, Hades's eyelids drooped of their own accord. He was asleep even before the kid had shut the door.

:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:

The next time Hades saw the kid, he was getting his bandages changed. According to said kid, he had been asleep for a couple days. Doing some quick calculations, Hades figured he'd been gone for just over a month, including his initial search time that had landed him in this mess to begin with.

Briefly, Hades wondered if Olympus had sent out search parties.

He dismissed the idea as soon as it came to him.

Who was he kidding? Zeus probably hadn't even noticed he was gone. Besides, who would want to come for him? They hardly ever acknowledged that he existed anyways. Maybe Persephone would notice, but she wasn't due to come to the Underworld for another month—and that was without her mother trying to keep her on the surface, which usually lasted about a week or two. Sure, the Furies could notice, but no one would believe them. What sane person would trust a spirit of vengeance and punishment?

He couldn't stay here long. The Underworld needed its Lord, or there would be utter chaos. Not only would the souls try to escape or move to Elysium, but the amount of paperwork he'd have to do...

He needed to heal up quickly. If only he could get a message out to Apollo.

Wait.

Message! That's it! There'd be plenty of rainbows around, bouncing off the snow and ice, and all he'd need would be something valuable. Or he could just put the drachma on his tab and pay it later. He was, after all, the god of wealth.

The only problem would be getting out of bed. Even breathing still hurt, much less sitting up and walking around.

Maybe he could convince that kid to help him?

Stupid idea, Hades told himself. To ask him would mean telling him about the mythological world, and despite the story about his mother, Hades had a gut feeling that childhood wasn't the only reason she moved with the kid. Besides, the kid's scent would triple if he found out, and with the number of monsters in Alaska and the power already radiating off of the child, that wasn't a fate Hades wished on anyone.

He'd have to figure out another way, one that preferably didn't involve innocent kids being hunted by monsters.

The kid finished wrapping the pristine new bandages on his arm—where was he getting these supplies, he's only eleven—and as he stood up, Hades had a thought.

"How long will I be here?"

The kid met Hades's eyes with his own, piercing blue on ebony black. "I'm not quite sure, but you'll have to stay for at least a couple months—"

"Why?" Months seemed ridiculously long, especially for a god.

"Physical therapy, sir. You'll need to regain control of your muscles and build them back up before you're able to travel back home."

Hades hated that the kid made sense.

He's going to see paperwork in his nightmares tonight, he can just feel it.

The kid sighs. "If it makes you feel any better, I think you'll be able to start in a couple of days. Your bones all look good to me and there wasn't any permanent damage to your nerves."

Permanent dama—who the fuck raised this kid? Did he really learn all of this homeschooled? Why was an eleven year old kid looking at nerves and bones?

"When did you look at my bones? I don't really see an x-ray machine in here," Hades remarked, eyebrow raised.

The kid (he really should learn his name) shrugged. "You're a really heavy sleeper."

As if that explained anything. If anything, it only gave him more questions.

Hades decided not to pry, though. The kid clearly wasn't all he seemed.

He could enter a room so silently that one could turn the room upside down and still never find him. He'd created healing techniques that could heal fatal injuries in a quarter of the time they should take, even when used on an immortal. He had no parents, living in Alaska for mysterious reasons and somehow surviving. He knew when Hades was awake, despite not even being on the same floor with him. He knew how Hades's bones were doing without an x-ray machine.

And he was only eleven. He'd be formidable when he was grown, even as a healer. Maybe Hades could stick around, see what the kid's made of and really get to know him.

Perhaps the next couple months wouldn't be so bad.

...Fuck, he'd be writing that on his gravestone, wouldn't he.

P.S. Chapter Title is from Back From the Dead by Skillet