"If you don't get lost, there's a chance you may never be found." -Unknown

Chapter 3: To Find Oneself

"This is ridiculous," Angelo said, gaping at the enormous size of the suite. "How much did this cost you?"

"Just fourteen thousand dollars," Phoebus replied absently, taking a vase from the butler (because all ridiculously expensive suites must come with a butler) and beginning to arrange the flowers himself.

"Fourteen thousand dollars?" Angelo squeaked, staring at Phoebus with wide green eyes as the blond paused to sip at the champagne that had been waiting for them when they arrived.

They were aboard the Constellation, in the process of moving into the Penthouse Suite – the most lavish suite on the ship. Angelo was sure that his entire apartment would fit inside the bathroom, and maybe even in the fully-stocked pantry.

"If you're going to be my friend, get used to having the best of everything."

Phoebus had abandoned the flower arrangement and was now running a brush through his long hair, carefully untangling the golden curls.

Angelo didn't respond, but continued to tour the set of rooms he would inhabit for the next several weeks. He stepped into the bedroom – and then froze. You have got to be kidding me.

There was only one bed in the massive room. He would have to share with Phoebus.

The thought of being in the same bed with the blond made his hands clammy.

"Oh, I see you found the bedroom," Phoebus said, strolling into the bedroom with the butler following close behind. Angelo waited while the other man made sure that the butler put everything exactly where he wanted it. When the elderly man had left, the brunette took a deep breath. "Phoebus..." he began.

"Mm?" his friend hummed.

"Did you happen to notice – ummm – the slight problem –"

Phoebus turned to Angelo, a frown marring his face. "What problem?"

He wordlessly gestured towards the bed. Phoebus raised a golden eyebrow. "Are you trying to tell me that you want me to satisfy your boyish needs?"

"What? No!" Angelo shouted. "I'm trying to tell you that there's only one bed. What the heck's that all about? Fourteen thousand dollars later and there's seriously only one bed?!"

It was rather suspicious. The suite had everything from a security system, foyer and grand piano to a living room and dining room, two entertainment centers and music centers (with a docking station that Angelo had immediately hooked his iPod up to), two bathrooms (one with a whirlpool tub), a massive veranda with lounge seating and yet another whirlpool tub, and a bar...but only one bed?

Phoebus wasn't the least bit fazed by his young friend's rant. "So?"

"So, we're going to have to share! Don't you think that's going to be awkward?"

With two swift steps, Phoebus was standing directly in front of Angelo. The blond was close enough for Angelo to count each and every one of his coal-black eyelashes. "Only if one of us does something to make it awkward," he said in a voice as soft as velvet.

I can count all of the colors in his eyes, Angelo thought dazedly before mentally shaking himself. "Stop doing that!" he demanded.

Phoebus look surprised. "Stop doing what?"

"Putting me in a trance. It's starting to annoy."

Phoebus chose not to answer, but his lips curved into a slight smirk. "I'm going to go lie down in the sun for a while," he said, grabbing his swim shorts and a plush robe that had of course come with the suite before heading into the...dressing room?

Angelo rolled his eyes. Talk about over-the-top extravagance.

Phoebus emerged a moment later with an oversized towel and a bottle of tanning lotion. Angelo snorted at the sight. "You're going to tan? Really?"

Phoebus narrowed his eyes. "I'm a model," he snapped. "I have to look good."

"Whatever you say, Miss Lambrinos," Angelo said under his breath. Phoebus ignored him and stalked out of the room.

Angelo waited a few moments before shrugging and following the model out onto the veranda.

Phoebus had just taken off the robe, revealing a body that would probably make any man green with envy.

Angelo averted his gaze, trying not to look directly at the model. He plopped down onto one of the lounge chairs, leaning back and staring out at the rolling ocean. He caught sight of several dolphins leaping into the air and smiled to himself. Supposedly that was good luck.

"So...what are we going to do when we get to Greece?" Angelo asked after several minutes of silence.

"Whatever you want to do," the blond responded lazily.

"Are we going to hook up with Athena and Aphrodite?" Angelo joked. Had he been looking at Phoebus, he would have seen the trace of a smile on the model's face.

"Maybe" was the vague answer.

"I know most people say that Aphrodite is the hottest goddess, but I always had a thing for Artemis and Athena," Angelo said with a grin, crossing his legs and turning to face his friend.

Phoebus was lying on his stomach. The muscles in his back rippled as he propped himself up on his forearms and peered at Angelo with an expression that could have been identified as either amusement or exasperation. "You know they're both supposed to be chaste, right?"

"Duh. That makes them even hotter."

Phoebus rolled his eyes and lay back down, grumbling something under his breath.

Angelo, however, wasn't exactly known for his ability to remain silent. He kept talking. "You're Greek, right?"

"Yes," Phoebus responded, his voice muffled. "I believe that's why we're going on this little trip to Greece."

Angelo ignored the last comment. "Tell me some mythical stories."

Phoebus sighed, rolling onto his back and staring at the sky. "Have you ever heard the one about how Hermes annoyed Apollon?"

Angelo shook his head, eager to hear a story about the god he had been named after.

"Well, the story goes that Hermes kept following Apollon around and wouldn't stop talking. Apollon was trying to concentrate on something, but Hermes kept interrupting him. Finally Apollon got fed up with it and challenged Hermes to a foot race. Hermes was sure that he would win because he was the inventor and patron of track-and-field. But Apollon was known for being the best at everything." There was a slight smirk on Phoebus's lips.

"Sounds like Apollo's an overachiever," Angelo commented.

A brief scowl crossed Phoebus's face but quickly vanished. "Needless to say, Apollon won the race," Phoebus finished.

"So what do you think the gods look like?" Angelo asked.

Phoebus turned away, running a hand through his hair thoughtfully.

"The gods are powerful," he finally answered. "They can have any appearance they want. Their true forms are too great for human eyes to see, so they cloak themselves in order to walk amongst us."

Angelo chose not to comment on the fact that Phoebus was talking about the gods as though they were real. He gazed out at the ocean once more, and when he turned back, he was shocked to see that Phoebus was balancing an acoustic guitar in his lap. "How did you do that?" he demanded when he had finally regained the ability to speak.

"Do what?" Phoebus asked innocently.

Angelo pointed at the guitar. "That – what – it – how –"

Phoebus just blinked at him. When it became obvious that the brunette wasn't going to say anything that made sense, he began to strum the guitar and sing softly. "I think I've already lost you, I think you're already gone, I think I'm finally scared now – you think I'm weak, I think you're wrong."

"Sounds like you're a little paranoid," Angelo commented. "That's a Matchbox Twenty song, right?"

Phoebus stopped playing and looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Stop annoying me," he snapped. "I'm sure you can find some other way to amuse yourself."

"If you insist, Your Highness."

Sometimes Phoebus could be so moody.

Angelo hopped off the lounge chair and jogged back inside, darting through the bedroom and into the dressing room. He managed to locate his swim shorts and quickly changed.

Less than a minute passed before he was bounding back outside. "I've always wanted to try one of these things!" he announced brightly, gesturing at the whirlpool tub.

Phoebus opened one eye, managing to look vaguely surprised. "You've never been in one before?"

Angelo shook his head as he pulled off the cover. Steam rose off the heated water. Grinning excitedly, Angelo leapt over the side and sighed contentedly when his skin came into contact with the warm water.

It took him a moment to realize that Phoebus had sat up and was laughing at him.

"What are you laughing at?" Angelo demanded.

Phoebus grinned slowly. "Aren't you going to turn on the jets?"

"What jets?"

Phoebus climbed off the lounge chair, shaking his head in amusement. When he reached the tub, he leaned over and pushed one of the buttons on the panel that Angelo hadn't noticed before. The water in the tub became a whirlpool...hence the name, Angelo supposed, feeling slightly foolish.

The feeling of stupidity didn't last long - it seemed like there were jets of water coming from everywhere, massaging the tension out of Angelo's muscles. If he had felt content before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. "This is what Heaven must be like," he moaned.

Having closed his eyes, he failed to notice the secretive smile that was playing on Phoebus's lips.

When Angelo felt someone else climbing into the tub, he opened one eye and saw that Phoebus had pinned up his hair before getting in. "You treat your hair like it's made of gold or something," he commented.

Phoebus shrugged. "The people I work for like me to keep it healthy. Apparently it's one of my best features."

"Really?" With both of his eyes now open, Angelo examined his new friend critically. Although the blond hair did compliment his sapphire eyes, Angelo wouldn't call it his best feature.

"Stop staring at me like that," Phoebus said. A pretty blush was darkening his ivory cheeks.

Angelo grinned. "Sorry."

They sat in comfortable silence for the better part of an hour, only interrupted when the butler arrived at one point with a tray of tea and canapés.

When dusk began to fall and Angelo began to resemble a prune, the older man stood up. "We should probably get out of here," he stated. "We don't want to fry our internal organs."

Angelo, who was already half asleep, murmured, "Sure."

Phoebus rolled his eyes and shook the brunette's shoulder. "Come on, get up."

When Angelo still wouldn't budge, Phoebus sighed and reached down, scooping up the small body.

Angelo's eyes snapped wide open. "Hey!" he cried indignantly. "What are you doing?!"

Phoebus didn't answer. He deposited Angelo on one of the lounge chairs and then handed him a towel.

Angelo stretched and yawned. "I think I'm going to bed early tonight," he mumbled, wrapping himself in the massive towel and standing up.

"Not without taking a shower first, you aren't."

Angelo stared up at him with catlike emerald eyes. "Are you saying I stink?"

Phoebus snorted and walked away.

"Hey!" Angelo shouted after him. "It's not nice to ignore people!"

Although he couldn't see anything but the back of his head, Angelo would have bet all of his money that there was a smirk on Phoebus's handsome face.

Even though Phoebus showered before Angelo, the brunette was still the first one to crawl into bed. Angelo had quickly learned that Phoebus spent more time in front of the mirror than all of the girls the younger man had ever dated put together.

"What is taking you so long?" Angelo griped. He was eager to shut off the lights and go to sleep. "Are you trying to impress your pillows or something?"

Phoebus, who was in the middle of rubbing some kind of cream on his face, didn't bother to answer – a habit that Angelo was fast becoming annoyed with. "What? Am I not deemed worthy enough to speak with the great Phoebus Lambrinos?" he asked scathingly.

"On the contrary," Phoebus began as he started combing something through his long hair. Even from several feet away, Angelo could smell the delightful scent of whatever product he was using. "I deem you more worthy of my conversation than the majority of people on this planet."

"Really?"

Phoebus shot him a look of amusement. "Yes."

"You've got to be one of the most honest people I've ever met."

There was that secretive smile again. "I never tell a lie."

That statement prodded at Angelo's subconscious, and he frowned to himself. Where had he heard that before?

He noticed that Phoebus was looking at him from the corner of his eye.

"What?" Angelo asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Phoebus said as he climbed into bed, "nothing at all."

Angelo had never woken up in someone's arms before, but he quickly discovered that it was a feeling he could get used to. His mind was still hazy from sleep, and he cuddled closer to the warm body. "Mmm," he hummed contentedly. His hand was tangled in the person's soft hair.

"I didn't realize you were so cuddly, Anie," an amused voice said in his ear—a male voice.

Oh no.

"Gah!" Angelo shouted, scrambling backwards and tumbling right off the bed. He landed in a disgruntled heap.

Phoebus's face peaked over the side. "That was graceful," he said with a smirk.

"Shut up," Angelo groaned, rubbing his eyes before he looked up at Phoebus warily. The smirk had been replaced by a fond smile. His lapis lazuli eyes were filled with warmth.

"What – what time is it?" Angelo stammered.

Phoebus opened his mouth, but never got a chance to answer.

"It's almost noon," a deep voice boomed, and Angelo shot up as though he'd been electrocuted. The three men that he'd met at Phoebus's house were standing in their bedroom. "What are you doing here?" Angelo demanded.

"That's neither here nor there," the dark-haired man snapped. Is he ever in a good mood? Angelo wondered.

"They're going to the reunion, too," Phoebus said to Angelo. "I don't think I ever introduced you to them." He pointed to the shortest man, the one with the platinum blond hair. "This is my father, Zenon." Then he pointed to the tallest of the three, whose fair hair was slightly darker than Zenon's. "That's Pelogios, my uncle. And the perpetually moody one is Heber."

"Pelogios?" Angelo asked, eyeing the haughty uncle. "I thought you called him '''Seidon".

"My middle name is Poseidonios," Pelogios explained. For some reason, he shot Phoebus an angry look.

"Is it common for Greeks to name their children after ancient gods?" Angelo asked, raising his eyebrows.

"What do you mean?" Phoebus and Zenon asked in unison. Angelo thought he saw a trace of alarm in Phoebus's eyes.

"Your name means 'of Zeus'," Angelo said to Zenon. "Poseidonios means 'of Poseidon', and Pelogios means 'of the sea'. Poseidon's the god of the sea." He turned to Heber. "I guess you aren't really named after a god, but 'Heber' does mean 'from the other side', or 'the region beyond', or something like that."

"So I take it he speaks Greek?" Pelogios drawled as though Angelo wasn't there.

Phoebus nodded. Angelo noticed that he now looked positively gray.

"What's going on?" he asked suspiciously.

Zenon and Phoebus exchanged glances. It was the first time Angelo had seen Phoebus looking so helpless. "Your word is unerring," Phoebus whispered to Zenon, bowing his head slightly. "I will trust your judgment, Father."

Zenon gave a slight nod. Phoebus was now a delicate shade of green, and Angelo was caught between confusion and worry - it couldn't be healthy for a person to change colors that rapidly.

"My name isn't Phoebus," he said to Angelo in a strained voice. "Well, some people do call me that, but it's just an epithet."

He paused for a moment, and Angelo waited in silence.

Phoebus finally spoke. "My name is Apollon."

His voice was so quiet that Angelo had to lean forward to hear him. "So you're named after a god, too? Um...why didn't you just tell me that in the first place?"

Phoebus – Apollon – shook his head slightly. It took a moment for Angelo to understand what he was trying to say, but when he finally worked it out, he felt like he had been hit by a considerably large truck.

He inhaled sharply. "Are you trying to tell me," he said, and even to his own ears his voice sounded severe, "that you are the Greek god Apollo?!"

"Actually, 'Apollo' is my Roman counterpart," he muttered. "My Greek name has an 'N' at the end of it. Alpha-pi-omikron-double lambda-omega-nu. Ἀπόλλων. Apollon."

Angelo completely ignored this explanation. "And I suppose you're going to try to tell me that these three," he waved his hand at Apollon's father and uncles, "are Zeus, Poseidon, and –" he stared at the dark-haired man who called himself Heber, and realized that Apollon only had one other uncle, "Hades?!"

It wasn't possible. Angelo stared at all three of them with disbelief written across his face. "Either all of you are completely insane, or you're playing one of the stupidest tricks in history – which, by the way, is an insult to my intelligence. I don't really care which one it is. I'm getting out of here right now." He grabbed a jacket, shoved past the three newcomers, and stormed out of the suite. It wasn't until he reached the upper deck and caught a glimpse of the sea that he realized he was trapped on a ship in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. He scowled at nothing in particular and threw himself into a lounge chair.

"Are you mad at me?" a quiet voice said in his ear.

"Of course I'm mad at you," Angelo snapped, not bothering to look up. "And I don't get mad easily. I thought you were my friend!"

"I am your friend!" Phoebus – or whoever he was – protested. "Things didn't work out like they were supposed to."

"Understatement," Angelo said under his breath. "I didn't realize you were completely mental."

"I'm not insane," he contradicted. "I'm telling you the truth. I've always told you the truth. I just mislead you a little bit."

"If you expect me to believe that you're a Greek god, you might as well leave because it's not going to happen."

"You will believe me." His tone was matter-of-fact.

Angelo snorted and crossed his arms.

"What can I do to prove this to you?" Desperation now filled his voice.

Angelo thought about Apollon, the Greek deity whom he had always admired. He was the god of truth and music, of light and poetry, and of prophecy…

"Tell me how I'm going to die," Angelo commanded.

"You aren't going to die."

He blinked; of all the answers he'd been expecting, that definitely hadn't been on the list. "Excuse me?"

Phoebus waved his hand impatiently. "We'll talk about that later. Ask me something else."

"Okay. Who am I going to marry?"

"You aren't going to get married."

Angelo rolled his eyes. "You know what? For all I know, you could be making this up." He went back to thinking. Apollon is also the god of healing.

Angelo held out his index finger, displaying a painful paper cut that hadn't yet healed. "Okay, Apollon." He spat out the name sarcastically. "Heal this for me."

The blond bit his lip and looked around nervously. No one else was in sight. He sighed softly and took Angelo's hand. The warmth that Angelo always felt at Phoebus's touch shot through his body, and he hummed with pleasure, momentarily forgetting that he was angry with the other man. Phoebus lifted his own index finger and touched it to the cut. There was a flash of golden light, and the pain disappeared. When the blond removed his hand, Angelo saw that the cut was completely gone. Not even a scar remained.

Angelo's mouth fell open. Slowly, he looked up to meet the beautiful cobalt eyes. "How – how can this be possible?" he whispered. "I can't believe it…there has to be some kind of explanation…"

"You have no faith," Phoebus said quietly. His eyes were reproachful.

"It's not that I don't have faith," Angelo snapped. "You have to understand that I was raised to believe that the Greek gods were just characters in fantasy stories that teachers force their students to read. And then you show up and try to tell me that you're Apollon…" He breathed deeply. "I don't know what to think."

He stared at Phoebus for a long moment, examining his perfect face. "I bet girls fall in love with you at first sight," he sighed.

Phoebus blinked at the sudden change of subject, but then frowned. "That's not true," Phoebus admitted gruffly. "I've been rejected by nearly every girl I've ever pursued."

Angelo gaped at him. "How is that possible?"

Phoebus shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose because it's considered dangerous to love a god."

Dangerous? Angelo thought to himself. I never thought loving him would be dangerous.

When this thought registered in his brain several seconds later, he gasped and leapt to his feet.

"What's wrong?" Phoebus asked, alarmed. He had also jumped to his feet.

"Nothing!" Angelo squeaked. "I - I need to be alone for a while."

Without further ado, he turned on his heel and sprinted the other way as fast as he possibly could, stopping only when he had reached the other side of the ship. He leaned against the railing, gasping for breath and pulling at his hair with both hands.

When had he fallen in love with Phoebus? Had it been the day he had seen the blond kneeling in his garden with dirt streaked across his ivory cheeks? Or maybe it had been the time Angelo had tackled him and had felt the model's perfect body beneath him? Or the first time Angelo had heard him speak Greek? His voice had never sounded more beautiful than when he had spoken in his native tongue.

Angelo groaned and buried his face in his hands. He felt like he was losing his mind. Mere months ago he'd been a normal straight guy, and now he was on a cruise ship headed to Greece, trying to pinpoint the exact moment he'd fallen in love with a man on his mail route who claimed to be Apollon. When had life gotten so complicated?

"What was that all about?" the annoyed voice of Phoebus asked.

"What? Oh. Nothing," Angelo responded lamely.

Phoebus narrowed his eyes at him. "I can tell when people are lying, you know. But that's not important right now." He plopped down on the ground, making himself comfortable and gesturing for Angelo to do the same. Reluctantly, Angelo obeyed. Phoebus took a deep breath. "I wasn't finished telling you everything. There's one more thing that you really need to know."

Angelo stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

"We didn't meet through some sort of chance happening, Anie. I knew that the house I'm living in now would be on your mail route. I was waiting for you the day we met."

"Why?" His voice was calm, even though he had a strong feeling that what he was about to hear would change his life forever.

"Zeus sent me there. He wanted me to find you." Phoebus smiled grimly. "He didn't expect that we would become friends."

Once again, Angelo waited for him to go on.

Phoebus inhaled deeply. "A long time ago, a nymph named Maia gave birth to the twelfth Olympian god."

"Hermes," Angelo acknowledged. Phoebus nodded.

"Zeus went to great lengths to hide his son's identity from Hera. He was afraid that she would kill the new god. Zeus was successful for several millennia, but Hera eventually found out. She put a curse on Hermes. His memory was lost and he was transformed into a newborn infant. She cast him out of Heaven. Until recently, we didn't know what had happened to him."

Angelo's throat constricted. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Phoebus looked at him with an unreadable expression in his eyes and answered the unspoken question. "Yes," he said quietly.

And suddenly, everything fell into place. This was why he'd always been stronger and faster than the other children; why he'd been made fun of for the unusual name he'd had before the orphanage directors changed it; why he'd always felt different. "This shouldn't make any sense," Angelo managed to say, "but somehow, it does."

"I know," Phoebus said softly, "I know."

Constellation is an actual Celebrity cruise ship. If you happen to be rich and decide to book a cruise in the Penthouse Suite, you'll discover that it comes with just about everything I've described, from the champagne and butler to the veranda and master bedroom. I can't promise that Apollon and Hermes will be there with you but it's always worth a shot. ;)

Song Mentioned

If You're Gone by Matchbox Twenty

None of the lyrics are mine. Really.