Author's Note: Hello everyone, I know I have been absent for a while and this sequel has been a long time coming, but between college and my job I just never really have time to write anything that isn't essays anymore. I apologize greatly for the neglect I've had towards the Bone and Skin saga and my other fics, but I finally got the beginning of this sequel going, and wanted to post it. I can't promise updates will be consistent, or that I will make it back to this fic or my others right away, but I can say I am not gone forever, and I plan to continue all of my versions of Hades and Persephone at some point. Otp is Otp and their stories must be told. Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck around, or anyone new who wants to read the rest of Violet and Logan's tale. It means ever so much, and I hope you enjoy the story!

"A man is a God in ruins."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

There was a clock tolling in the distance.

One drag of smoke, two drags, three…

Michael Halefire was kind of hoping the toxins of cigarettes would kill him quicker. Gods knew it would be a relief for him to die in comparison to living, even if he would be reborn eventually. The mess of a life he'd gotten himself involved with in this cycle was something of a marvel. Then again, he supposed when you were the incarnation of the God of War himself, things were never meant to be easy for you.

"I hate it when you smoke those things."

The voice was from his right, familiar and feminine and stirring heat in his gut as he turned to look at a perfect line of gold hair and silver limbs in the darkness. "Bet you hate it when your husband smokes 'em, too."

Her mouth turned into a frown, peach lipstick perfect at the corners. "Why do you always do that?" she asked.

"Do what?" answered Michael, taking another drag from the cigarette between his fingers with dramatic show.

"You know what," she snapped, crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "Bring him into it."

"He's the whole reason we're in this mess, Helen," Michael said bitterly, teeth clacking on the syllables. "And I don't just mean being adulterers."

Helen snorted, a very unlady-like kind of sound. It shocked Michael that she was capable of such an act. "Are you not ever chipper tonight," she said, Israeli accent bleeding into the words with heavy sarcasm. "I should have just left you out here to take responsibility for yourself and freeze to death."

"How could you have kept me warm anyhow?" Michael asked just as the clock stopped tolling, midnight setting in around them. "Your tone is so cold I think I'm getting hypothermia twice as fast."

Ignoring his insult, she held up a blanket made of thick wool and expensive satin. "Do you want it or not?"

He thought about telling her he didn't for a moment, just to be mean. But then he saw the way her shoulders were deflating, the way her eyes sparkled like she might cry, and he gave a soft sigh and nodded. He was pretty cold anyway. "Yes, please," he said, tossed the cigarette onto the sidewalk and rubbed it out with the toe of his boot.

Helen rewarded him with one of her rare, soft smiles, a kind of smile she only gave to him when they were in each other's private company. "Here," she said, threading the blanket across his shoulders.

"Thank you," he said, leaned down to kiss her softly and tried not to linger too long lest anyone come by and catch them.

While Helen's husband, Dino Bacchus, had said it was more than okay for Michael and Helen's affair to go on, Michael wasn't so sure the rest of Dino's associates would agree with the old man. More than likely they would knock Michael's teeth in for getting distracted on the job and letting his mortal emotions cloud his judgments the way he'd let them almost a month ago, responsibility gone wry with a girl named Violet Porter who he'd wanted to protect even though it was against the rules.

Apparently Michael had a soft spot for blondes with big, shiny eyes that could potentially get him killed sometime in the near future.

"They almost done in there?" he asked after a moment, watching the way Helen's posture went from one of pleasant comfort to rigid distaste.

"Not nearly," she said, looking off into the distance. "Exchanging Divinity takes longer than one would think."

"In mass amounts it does anyways," Michael input, reached out to tuck Helen under his arm as he noticed her shivering. At least he could claim he was trying to keep her warm if anyone walked by and snapped at him for touching his boss's wife in a less-than respectable manner. "A few drops ain't no big deal, though."

"Isn't a big deal," Helen sighed, rolling her eyes at him teasingly. "I can not do a thing with you, can I?"

"Not really," Michael smirked. "You can take the boy out of Texas, but you can't take the Texas out of the boy."

"Quite obviously, if you horrendous grammar is any indication," Helen said, glanced at the building beside them and shook her head as she broke away from Michael's side. He missed her instantly. "I should get back inside. Pan is in there alone with everyone else and I do not trust them."

"Not even with Dino there?" Michael asked as he watched her begin to walk away.

In answer, she turned back to him with a quirked brow and straight set to her hips, "Especially not with Dino there."

She left Michael there on the sidewalk alone, the bit of a good mood she'd put him in going with her. When he heard the side-door to the building close he exhaled loudly, ran a hand through his golden hair and swiveled back around to watch the street again.

Since his fuck-up back with Violet Porter last month, Dino's associates had taken to using Michael as a guard-dog- but not with people, just with buildings. He kept onlookers from getting too close and informed the head honchos if anyone was there to see them, by appointment only of course.

After Halloween, Dino's associates had been extra careful about guarding their location. Attacking Violet Porter and Logan Fairgrave had been a big, flashing, neon sign that said they were ready for a war, but no one had been prepared for how much Divinity it would drain from them. Nemesis, the Goddess at the head of the whole scheme, was as weak as a woman on her death bed after using Violet and Logan's blood to perform a spell that would locate the Keys of Hades. If any of the Olympians attacked their little team in the near future, they'd more than likely lose.

That was a chance too unworthy of risking when they were so close to breaking the infamous Titans from their cages, now that they had a way to locate the last Key.

So Michael had become the night's watchman without the flashlight and crappy uniform, keeping Dino's associates' headquarters in London, England a secret while Nemesis recuperated and planned how to activate the map and find the final Key. It wasn't a comfortable job by any means, but it meant he was close to Helen and that he did not have to face Violet Porter again any time soon.

Going head-to-head with the guilt he had for being the catalyst of her almost dying was too unbearable to think about.

Because, really, the girl should have been dead. When Dino's associates had received word that neither Violet nor Logan had died after Nemesis cut them to the bone and the warehouse they were in caught fire, they had been astounded to their cores. No one had an explanation for it, least of all Michael. He'd just been glad that Violet hadn't died, and hoped that somehow, someway, he could apologize to her.

Then again, she probably wouldn't come close to forgiving him. Not when he was working with what she considered the bad guys in this equation, and especially not after he'd delivered her right to them at the threat of her loved ones so she could be used as a pawn to set the Titans free.

Sometimes Michael wondered if he really was on the side of the bad guys. He figured his alter-ego, Ares, wasn't all that moral, but neither were the rest of the Olympians. He had memories of the way they had ruled, all the people they'd killed over silly tiffs and jealousy. Nemesis had promised that when they set the Titans free it would be Utopia- that only the good would live and the bad would perish.

Michael wasn't so sure he could believe Nemesis after all the harm she'd caused him and others, but he hoped that maybe she wasn't lying about at least that much. After all, Dino believed they were making the world a better place in the end. And while Dionysus had never been a benevolent God, he hadn't been a bad one either. He was the one who had saved Ariadne after Theseus had abandoned her to rot; he'd made her a Goddess and loved her and let her live on so that she could become Helen Bacchus, a woman Michael was sure he was half-way in love with at this point. And Goddamn if that didn't complicate his viewpoint on things.

Eventually, after bitter cold and four more cigarettes, the sun began to hitch on the horizon, the door Helen had disappeared into hours ago opening once more. Michael was kind of hoping it was her again, come to give him breakfast or frown at him for smoking more or maybe even kiss him, but instead he was faced with the stout silhouette of Dino walking down the sidewalk, shoulders hunched and dark circles under the man's violet eyes.

"I believe we are finished for this evening," Dino said when he'd finally reached Michael's side, having to look up at him because his head only reached Michael's shoulders and made direct eye contact difficult. "Ariadne and Pan shall be along shortly so we may go home and sleep." Dino's speaking was as polished as his wife's, English being a second language to the man as he was originally from Italy in this lifetime.

Michael squinted at him, noticing a bandage on his palm with blood leaking through. "How much the bitch drain you of?" he asked after a moment, clacking his teeth together against the chill of the dawn.

Dino smiled drowsily, having gotten used to Michael's vulgar nicknames for his boss with no struggle. "Not too much. She is getting stronger, though. I believe we shall be able to locate the map by the end of next week, if we keep up the transfusions."

"Well I guess that's a good thing, then," Michael said, trying not to let Dino see the sudden hesitence he felt with the situation. Activating the map meant the war was pressing on, and that they were bound to cross paths with their enimies any time. "Will we be attacking the Olympians for anything else?" He tried to be sly with the question, but Dino caught his undertone right away and smiled.

"I assure you, my young friend, Violet Porter and her family are in no harm for the near future unless they were to interfere with our plans. I do not foresee that happening though, as not even Zeus himself has been able to find us yet, even with the Fates on his side," Dino said, reached up to clap Michael on the shoulder. "Now, let us not talk of business and instead go home and sleep! Here comes Helen and Pan so we may be off!"

Michael turned to look in the direction Dino was pointing, people filtering out of the building in dozens. He noticed Helen and Pan walking towards them a ways back on the sidewalk, chattering about this and that. He figured it would kind of be a relief to go back to the flat Dino had rented for their stay here in London, eat some food and catch up on sleep.

But then he caught sight of Nemesis lingering just at the lip of the door, holding on to her lover, Anteros, for support, and his nerves spiked with anxiety once more. Cratos and Pallas were at either side of the woman acting as barriers towards anyone who dare attack, but Nemesis seemed perfectly at ease and much stronger than he remembered as she found Michael's eyes through the newly formed crowd.

At first she did nothing but look at him, and then, slowly, a sharp smile formed on her lips. She raised a steady, perfeclty manicured hand to wave at him. "Hello, Michael," she called, and his skin bristled. "Lovely weather we're having, isn't it? But I do so miss the spring."

Only when she laughed and turned to go- her servants following behind- did Michael let his teeth unclench and his fists uncurl.

Dino looked at him uncertainly as Pan and Helen finally reached his side, arms stretching around his wife's waist and hand resting on Pan's head. "She is just messing with you, Michael," Dino said softly. "Gods never let other Gods live down mistakes, no matter how miniscule."

"It's true," Helen chimed in, though he could see the way she was on edge herself from the encounter. "Come, let us go and I will make everyone breakfast."

"Yeah, okay," Michael said as their small group began walking the opposite way of Nemesis', heading towards their rental flat.

And though he began to pretend that everything was fine after that, made small chatter and promised to take Pan to a rugby game later that day after a nap, he couldn't help but feel down in his bones how wrong Dino's statement was. Because while Gods never didn't let each other live down their mistakes, Michael knew his had not been small. Once he had been the God of War, and the bloodlust had still burned thick through his veins when he had sent Violet Porter to the slaughter.

And he couldn't help but think, that at some point, he would be obligated to do it again.