REFLECTION OF THE GODS:
A BSG FIC.
Dammit, I knew I should have stayed home!
Apollo sighed heavily, resigned to the fact that he couldn't avoid this encounter. Earlier, he had thought that a quiet walk by the river would be the perfect way to clear his head and collect his thoughts in private. Unfortunately, with the distractions of late, he'd forgotten that today was Friday, and that meant party-time for the Drunk. Well, any day of the week was party-time for the Drunk, but Friday was "Picnic Day, when all of his friends gathered by water from sunrise to sunset, armed with mountains of picnic goodies, music, laughter and–of course–plenty of wine. He'd almost managed to quietly tip-toe away, when he was accosted by a group of loud, rambunctious satyrs, who dragged him to the large flat rock by the riverbank, shouting, "Hey! Look who's finally pulling the stick out of his ass!"
Seeing his brother hoisted onto the rock, the Drunk, who was reclining on a cushion close to the water's edge, enthusiastically waved at him. "Hey! Bro! Come over here! There's a beeeUtiful piece of ass that's dying for your attention!" He pointed to the small crowd gathered by the edge of the water. "Peel me another grape, baby," he murmured to one of the willowy nymphs the usually surrounded him. With an airheaded giggle, she popped one into his generous mouth.
"Dionysus, I'm not in the mood."
"Come on, Apollo, you're never in the mood! Don't be a spoilsport I swear, this kid is dynamite!"
"Oooh! He is a cutie!" simpered one scantly-clad nyad, already three sheets to the wind. "Those eyes alone are to die for!"
"So blue! They could pierce your heart!" exclaimed another, her cleavage threatening to fall out of her dress as she leaned into the river for a better look.
"That's not what I'd want to pierce!" added a satyr next to her.
The Drunk responded by spitting out his wine guffawing, slapping a hand on his meaty thigh. "George, George! You are sooooo naughty! Hey, I bet Aphrodite's gotta a hand in this kid. He looks like her handiwork!" He leaned towards his half-brother, with a leering grin, "Well, god-made or not, he's definitely gonna make somebody veeery happy someday!".
"No thanks. I've got to send out the latest prophesies. I've been working on my music for the past couple of weeks, so the Pythias are getting antsy..." He really wasn't in the mood to communicate with delirious, chamalla-chewing seers, but, being as he was the God of Prophesy, duty called.
"Aw, come on, Apollo! When was the last time you got a taste of something like this?"
"Uh, no thanks!"
"You won't regret it!"
"I said, NO THANKS!"
"Just a peek..."
"For the last time, Dionysus, I can't! I've got these prophesies–"
"Frak prophesies! Get your toned ass over here and check it out!"
Apollo shook his head. If he didn't take at least one look at the kid, the Drunk would whine and moan for weeks, and probably bring it up during family dinners, which were uncomfortable enough...the thought alone of Hera getting into his business was thoroughly unappealing.
"Okay, let's get this over with."
"Like I said, you won't regret it."
"Whatever." He slowly walked over to the edge of the rock, while the other party-goers scooted over to make room. He leaned over, momentarily seeing his reflection, his own blue eyes glaring back at him. After a few seconds, the sunlight began to dance around his image, obliterating it, blinding him–until another, more coherent picture appeared.
11111
It was a hot summer day, the sun blazing over the race track. Bleachers empty, grass in the center browning, the air almost too hot to breathe. Not a soul in sight, except for one.
The tall, gangly boy was all concentration, his body tensed and focused, his eyes--blue as the sky above-- straight ahead as he pushed himself to complete one more lap. Sweat dripped off of him, plastering his short, wavy brown hair to his skull, and drenching his gray Caprica City High t-shirt to his torso. The muscles in his long legs pumped with the effort, moving with the grace of a natural athlete, in spite of his exhaustion. So intense, for one so young, Apollo thought. How old was he? Fifteen? It was the middle of summer break, when all the other children his age were flirting with each other at the beach or hanging out in air-conditioned shopping malls. This one ran. In the heat. Alone.
And was gorgeous.
He could tell that the boy's deceptively thin frame that belied a wiry strength--both physical and mental–and an iron will. On or off the track, he was definitely not someone to be underestimated. Apollo could imagine what he would be like in the future, imagining that his body would eventually fill out with lean muscle, growing from a beautiful boy into a strikingly handsome man. Yes, he would definitely make somebody happy someday...
11111
"So, whadda you think, Bro? Something you'd like to sink your teeth into?"
Apollo was so wrapped up with the scene that the sound of Dionysus' brash voice startled him. "He's...interesting."
He was only half-listening to the Drunk's commentary, focusing most of his attention on the water. Another boy had appeared on the track, and began shouting.
11111
"Hey, Lee!"
This younger boy was shorter, darker complexion, stockier, dressed in a C-Bucks jersey, long shorts and sports sandals. His black hair was jammed underneath a ball cap, his dark eyes squinting at the running figure. Puberty was only just touching this one–he still looked like an overgrown puppy, half-tripping over his feet, his high voice starting to crack.
"Lee! Mom says to come home!"
Lee ran past, ignoring his little brother.
"Come on, man! Dad'll be here any minute!"
Another lap, Lee passes by.
"Stop being an asshole, Lee!" The darker boy knew that if he didn't do something, his brother was going to keep on ignoring him, so he started jogging. "You know we won't have another chance to see him again for three months!"
"He can wait," said Lee, without missing a beat, a trace of bitterness penetrating his voice. "We always wait for him. Mom waits for him, you wait for him, and I'm sick of waiting!"
"He said that he'd be here around three o'clock, and it's two-fifteen now...Lee! Slow the frak down! I'm dying here!" The darker boy, with nowhere near the endurance of his brother, began to lose ground. "LEE!"
Lee heard his brother gasping for breath behind him. I shouldn't punish Zak for Dad's mistakes. Slowing down to a walk, he allowed him to catch up.
"Look," Zak gasped, "I know...you...and Dad don't get along...but he's still our Dad...and I...want us together..." He grabs onto Lee's t-shirt, pulling him to a stop. "Please. For me?"
Lee looked into his little brother's pleading eyes, silent for a moment. "Okay, Zak, only for you."
"Thanks, man."
"Race you!"
"You gotta be kidding!"
"Yeah, I am."
"You douche bag!"
"Hey! What kind of language is that, squirt?"
The last thing that Apollo saw before the image fades was Lee putting Zak in a head lock, giving him a nougie, while Zak laughingly protested how much his brother literally stank.
11111
As the Drunk spouted out his suggestions about how to "make Lee a man"to the entire company, the servants arrived, rolling yet another oversized cask of wine onto the nearby grass–a hearty cheer erupting from the crowd. Seeing that Dionysus and his retinue would be distracted by the new arrival, Apollo quickly made his excuses hopped off the rock, making his way back up to the palace. Now, I can concentrate in peace!
But he couldn't. He sat at his desk, twirling his pen in his hand, with a blank piece of parchment glaring back at him. The only thing that consistently popped into his mind was the boy. No, he couldn't forget about Lee, and not for the obvious reasons. True, he had his share of male lovers, some not much older than this boy, and he was no prude (for all his sister's teasing). No, as beautiful as this child was, something else was drawing him back to the water's edge for one more look...
TBC