Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah. I don't own anything okay! So don't sue me!

A/N: Hahahaha! Wrote the first two chapters in one day! The creative juices are flowing! Okay, for all you Achilles fans out there, and all the people who hate Agamemnon (face it who doesn't) this one's for you! Also, I know Patroclus was not related to Achilles in the Illiad, but for this to work, I wanted him to have some sort of family relationship with Achilles.

I've lived to bury my desires

And see my dreams corrode with rust

Now all that's left are fruitless fires

That burn my empty heart to dust. –– Pushkin

Alex Bradly sat up in bed. He had tried to ignore the knocking. He knew if he didn't get up whoever it was would eventually go away. But whoever it was obviously knew that was his plan. Stupid bastards! he thought. Can't they let a man sleep.

Though really, he hadn't minded being woken up, he was even grateful for it. He had been dreaming, about his mom at first. Which was weird. He hardly ever even thought about her most days. He knew if he did it might end up getting him killed, or worse, he might find himself regretting. Regretting everything, every step he'd taken since her death. But he wasn't much for regrets, so he pushed her memory away. But last night….what the hell was that?

He had been at the beach. She was standing in the water. He always thought she looked like some kind of water goddess. She was dressed strange; a turquoise dress, her hair done in a long braid. At his approach she turned and smiled. She was holding a couple of sea shells in her hand.

"They're coming again," she said, turning back to the water. "I was not as prepared this time. I'm sorry I can't be there this time."

"What are you talking about?" he asked. She dropped the shells back into the ocean. She turned back and walked to him, laying her hand on his shoulder.

"You wanted immortality once, more than anything. And you got it. But now….I wonder," she shook her head. "Times have changed. Immortality is nothing. What will you fight for now, Achilles?" Tears filled her eyes.

Achilles?

"It's Alex, mom. Alex." But she was gone. Instead he was in a tent, it was day. He could hear a man talking to him.

"We thought she might amuse you."

He did not see who spoke. All he could see in front of him was a girl…no a woman. She was dressed in the same old fashioned garments as his mother had been. Her hands were tied behind her, she was binded to a stake. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Those deep brown eyes. He had never seen anyone like her. He wanted to speak to her, to touch, even if she was a dream.

But that's when the knocking began, and the dream faded away like smoke.

Alex quickly pulled on a pair of pants and lit a cigarette before opening the door. "You had better have a hell of an excuse," he growled.

"Sorry, Uncle Alex," the young boy said. It was Alex's foster nephew, Patrick. Alex had been best friends with Patrick's dad, and had felt partly responsibly for not being able to keep the kid from being an orphan. The boy was only sixteen, but knew that he wanted to be just like Alex. He practically worshipped him. Alex never told him he couldn't be a like him out right, he didn't want to control the kid, he just told him the truth. A hired gun, a mercenary, a hit man, whatever you called it, it was just being a killer. He told Patrick that being such a thing was a lonely life. You couldn't show mercy, you couldn't pity. Patrick just nodded, not really listening.

"What is it, Patrick?" he said taking the cigarette from his lips. He looked passed Patrick into the hall. Oh, shit. The man standing behind Patrick was dressed in a pale grey Armani suit. His hair was combed back away from his face, not a one out of place. He had a neat goatee to match.

"Hello, Owen," Alex smiled.

A couple of hours earlier:

"I knew that girl was good for something," Adam Mycenae laughed, hanging up the phone. He relaxed into the comfort of the leather desk-chair, smiling. "That stupid bitch Helen finally left my brother."

Adam addressed this comment to the two men in the room with him: Niles Nestor and Owen Ithaca. Owen, being probably the only honest criminal in the world, frowned.

"Not only did she presume to leave him, she actually filed for a divorce! Oh, but it gets better!" He help up his hand and let out a foul laugh. "She left him…for that brat! For that little boy!"

"Who?" Owen asked.

"Paul Troies! She's going to marry Troies' younger son!" With this Adam let out an even louder, unpleasant laugh.

"What's this mean?" Nestor asked.

"War, of course. What else?"

Owen stood up, "You can not imagine—!"

"I don't imagine, young man! Don't forget who you're speaking too. Nestor," he turned to the other man, "Call all the other families. I want all the leaders here by noon, you got it?"

Nestor nodded and left the room. Adam picked up the phone again and dialed.

"Hello….is Catherine there? Who the hell do you think this is?! Put your mother on the phone!" He wait a beat. "Catherine? ….yea, listen, I can't meet you for lunch like I said……I can't, okay! …No it's not just business! Helen left Matt!!......Yeah….Look I may be home late tonight too…..I'll try to call you later." He hung up, and was surprised to see that Owen was still standing there.

"What is it?" he asked.

"They'll never go for this. There'll be too much blood. It's not worth it!"

Adam glared at him. How could such a honorable, righteous man become head of one the most powerful families in New York. Adam knew the answer. Owen Ithaca was smart, wise you might even call him. He ruled his faction with great control. But he was still weak, which was why he took orders from Adam Mycenae. He feared what would happen to his young son and wife, more than what happened to himself or his empire. That was how Adam had gotten him.

Adam thought his reply through carefully. If he said the wrong thing, his head might end up on a silver platter. "This is my brother! His wife! You think this is about greed for power? You're wrong Owen," Owen eyed him questionably, Adam almost smiled at this, but managed to control the impulse. "It's about family! About pride! About my little brother loving his wife and wanting her back! About the bonds of family and blood. That is what the others will fight for!" Adam banged his fist on the table at the last word.

Owen looked at him for several seconds, his face a mask of ice. Finally he spoke, "I know this will happen no matter what I think or not. Whether it will end well for us, I can't say." Adam snorted at this. "But I do know this! We need help. Troies has never been touched, never even been surprised! You want to surprise him…to make war with him…you need Alexander Bradly."

Adam's face went pale at the mention of the Killer's name. Damn Bradly! Damn him to hell! Why did the fates see fit to give him such power… The man was unstoppable….he also hated Adam Mycenae with a passion, and Mycenae felt likewise towards him.

"No! I'll have ever other family with me! All their men! I don't need Alex Bradly!" for the second time in two minutes he banged his fist on the desk. "Besides he won't listen to me." As soon as he said it, Adam knew he had made a mistake. He had admitted he need the man. Damn him!

Owen smiled, " Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

And true to his word, Owen Ithaca was taking care of it. Alex invited him to sit and asked Patrick to make some coffee. Owen let his eyes roam around the apartment of his friend. Clothing on the floor, overflowing ashtrays, dirty dishes everywhere.

"This place is a dump, Alex!" Owen laughed. "You should at least get a maid or something!"

"Not all of us are great kings of men," Alex joked, sitting on the old lavender sofa.

"Well, than maybe get a girlfriend or wife to clean up after you!" Owen pulled out a chair, deciding that he might not want to sit on that sofa without getting a tetanus shot first.

"Tsk, tsk., what would your loving Penelope think when she heard you say something like that? Isn't she on some women's rights board or something?" Alex took a drag from his cigarette.

"She wouldn't mind, as long as you had someone you could bring over for dinner once in awhile," Owen was smiling, but he wasn't sure if he was still joking or not.

"Why didn't you say so. I'll bring Patrick! Just make sure that chef of yours cooks enough, you know how teenage boys eat," Alex was joking, but he wasn't smiling. Patrick came in with two cups filled to the brim with coffee. Alex told him to go watch TV or something, reluctantly he did.

After a few moments, when he was sure Patrick was in the other room, Alex finally spoke, "Let's cut the bullshit, huh, Owen. Mycenae sent you right? Wants me to do something for him?" A small giddy smile crept across Alex's face; the thought that that pig had to ask him for help. He wouldn't do it of course, but still, the feeling of having even a fraction of power over Adam Mycenae made Alex happy.

"It's Helen," Owen said.

"Hmmm? What, you're dealing for the other Mycenae now?"

"She's gone. Left, divorced Matthew. She's run off with one of the Troies brothers," Owen explained.

"Hope it was the unmarried one," Alex joked. Owen sighed.

"Alex, this is serious! There's gonna be a war! A bloody one, if Mycenae gets his way. Lots of people will get hurt, lots will die. Not just people like you and me, either. Innocents, people who shouldn't have to know such pain."

If Owen expected Alex to show some compassion for what he said, he was gravely disappointed.

"Perhaps you should save this speech for Mycenae," he took a sip from his coffee. Owen knew there was no more he could say. If Alex didn't want to help, he wouldn't. He stood up.

"Alex….if something happens to me…."

"Don't you dare guilt trip me, Ithaca," Alex's voice was deadly calm. The calm before the storm. Owen just nodded and left. Alex sighed.

Fight for me. Let Agamemnon fight for power, Achilles for honor, and let the Gods say which is better.

Alex lifted his head. What the hell was going on? He looked towards the door. "Ah, shit!" he mumbled as he made to go after Owen.

Beatrice hummed softly to herself. This was the best part of the day. Right before the sun came up, before breakfast was served. No one missed her then. She could sneak into her studio on the 5th floor of the Troies house and she knew no one would come to look for her for at least a couple of hours. This was when she did her best work. Right now she was not actually paint, just sketching. She balanced a thick sketchbook on her knee and a piece of charcoal in her right hand. She looked down at the picture she had been sketching and stopped humming. "Crap," she cursed. She hadn't even been aware of what she was drawing. It wasn't a bad looking picture really, it's just she didn't know where the image came from. There came a knock on the door. Audrey stuck her head in.

"Hey," she said. "I'm not bothering you am I?"

Beatrice shook her head, "No, of course not." Audrey closed the door behind her and came and sat down next to Beatrice. She looked at the sketch the young twenty-three year old had in her hand.

"It's nice," she said, smiling. "Who is it?"

"I don't know," Beatrice said sincerely. "I think someone from my dreams." Audrey laughed.

"You must have really good dreams, cousin. Come on, let's go get some coffee."

The two woman exited the room, talking and laughing merrily to each other. The sketch of the warrior lay forgotten on the studio floor. This was a sketch of the brave Achilles. Though one could say it also looked remarkably like Alexander Bradly.

Part four coming soon

A/N: Okay people! I need some ideas!! I have one, but I feel it really stinks, so if you want to see anything in particular, now's your chance to say so!! Review people!! And yes there will be more Achilles/Bresies and Andromache/Hector coming soon for all you love sick puppies!!