A/N: A little bit of deja vu here; this chapter deals with what Achilles was doing during part of chapter 3.

Achilles should have known that something important was about to happen the second Odysseus came to see him. Usually the old fox joked with him, slyly suggesting the right things to do under the guise of pleasant conversation. Today, however, the kind of Ithaca was in no mood for diplomacy or friendship. "What did you do to Prince Paris?" he demanded.

"Nothing!" Achilles shot back, slightly taken aback by his friend's strange disposition. "We had a rather brief conversation. That's it."

Odysseus let out a disbelieving snort. "If that's so, then why did he just ask me if you told me anything about your little talk?" he persisted. "Not once, but several times! And in front of his father, too. Please, please tell me that you didn't try to bed him."

"I didn't," the warrior insisted fiercely. His tone softened. "I wouldn't just – do it like that..."

"What?" snapped Odysseus, getting more flabbergasted and infuriated by the second. "Why in Tartarus did your voice change like that?"

"I just find him intriguing, that all," admitted Achilles defensively.

"Well, don't." The Grecian king was clearly annoyed. "You're making the prince nervous and King Priam furious. Things would move along a lot more smoothly if you just leave the poor boy alone and find someone else to be intrigued with."

It was only Achilles' admiration for Odysseus that stopped him from spilling his blood all over the floor. "Friend or not," he growled, "if you ever imply that all I want from Paris is sex again, I'll kill you. He's not some bed-warming diversion! He – he needs someone to take care of him."

"I've heard that's what father's are for," Odysseus told him flatly.

"I'm certainly not going to abandon him to his father's care," replied Achilles with a roll of his eyes. "He needs me."

Odysseus' expression changed from annoyed to alarmed in an instant. "No," he said. "No, you cannot be developing feeling for the youngest prince of Troy, of all people!"

"Since when do I need your permission or anyone else's to care about someone?"

"Do you honestly think that nothing of consequence will happen if you actually pursue this?" cried Odysseus. "Things have been unstable enough since Agamemnon died; this could very well push Troy into starting a war against the cities of Greece. You may not care about the destruction of our way of life, but some of us have families to think about. I beg you, if you have any compassion at all for your fellow warriors, stay away from Prince Paris."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Waves from the sea splashed up onto the shore and surrounded Achilles' feet, but he took no notice of them. Odysseus' order ran over and over again in his mind. He wasn't going to stay away from Paris, of course; after all, he was Achilles, son of Peleus and Thetis and the greatest warrior in the world. It just wasn't in his nature to comply with commands, especially if it meant giving up someone when every part of him screamed that he shouldn't.

But why was he so attached to Paris? The Trojan prince was beautiful, to be sure, but Achilles would never let his emotions rule him like this just because someone was nice to look at. The only reason he'd even given Paris a second glance was because he was so damnably miserable all the time. Was that it? Was he attracted to the boy's unhappiness? No, that didn't seem right either. He wanted to rid him of his sadness, to bring out that defiant spark hidden deep down and make him shine with strength and happiness. What would that be like, to see Paris' real smile...

Achilles sighed and turned his gaze down the beach. His eyes immediately fell on a familiar sight: his mother, the sea goddess Thetis, was strolling down the sand toward a secluded alcove. He wasn't terribly surprised, as she had a way of showing up whenever she felt that she was needed. Curious to see what brought her this time, he followed. "Hello Mother."

"My dear son," she responded, handing him a seashell necklace. He took it, smiled his thanks, and reflexively tied it around his throat. Thetis always made them for him as a child and now made a point of gifted one to him at their all-too-infrequent meetings.

"What brings you to Troy?" Achilles asked.

"You are always so direct," she scolded lightly, giving him a playful frown that turned into a smile almost immediately. "I came because you will realize that you are in love with young Paris before the day is over."

"Really now?" replied Achilles with mild surprise. "And how do you know that I don't just feel sorry for him? Or that I don't seek only to pleasure myself with his body?"

Thetis was nothing if unflappable. "Would you be spending your day imagining what he looks like when he smiles if you only pitied him?" She shook her head. "And a seducer cares nothing about the happiness of his prey. No, Achilles; the young prince of Troy has entered your heart and it will only be a matter of time before it is his entirely."

"Odysseus would have me stay away from him," the Greek sighed. "He seems to think that my feelings in this matter would start a war. Apparently, I'm not what his father would see as a suitable mate."

"Do not presume to know what his father wants for him," insisted Thetis sagely. "Priam is a brutal fool. This love will create the most powerful alliance that the world has ever seen."

"Does Paris love me, then?"

"He will if you let him," she said plainly. "He is but drawn to you right now. If you can cast aside your own walls and show him your soul, he will love you as much as you love him." She turned her eyes back to where Achilles had been standing before her arrival. "The time is now."

Following her gaze, Achilles caught sight of Paris collapsing onto his knees, begging the gods to end his existence. The warrior's feet seemed to move of their own volition back down the beach, toward him. Good thing; his mind was too full of emotion to think about such things as running. He was enraged at whoever caused Paris to despair, worried as he saw him fall on his face in the mud, and most of all seized with the aching need to hid the vulnerable boy away from the cruelties of the world. "Oh, Paris," he breathed, feeling his heart swell and break at the same time. "What have they done to you?"

"Lord Achilles," he uttered, putting all of his pain and self-loathing into those two words. "Have you come to put me out of my misery?"

For the first time in his adult life, Achilles kept his rage in check. Storming of to slaughter all those he believed responsible for Paris' state, he decide, would only serve to frighten him. Instead he scooped the boy up into his arms and carried him toward the cove. "I have," he declared, feeling the strength of his conviction grow with each word. "I promise this is the last time you beg the gods or anyone else for death. Whoever causes you pain will answer to me from this point on."

Paris' only response was to wrap his harms around the warrior and squeeze tightly, burying his face in Achilles' neck. Achilles clutched him closer, closing his eyes briefly at the feel of those hot tears on his skin. "It's going to be all right," he murmured as they came to the cove. "I'm going to make everything all right if it takes all my life and kills me in the end."

He gently placed the prince down on the beach. Paris made no attempt to stand, so Achilles kneeled in front of him, gently grasping his shoulders so he wouldn't collapse again. "Why?" Paris asked hoarsely. "Why are you making such promises? You can't keep them, and you don't care anyway."

"I do care," Achilles told him softly. "I told you last night that I wanted to see you happy."

"You were playing games with me!" shot back Paris. He bowed his head again as the anger dissipated and the sobs returned. "I can't take it anymore..."

Achilles reached out and touched Paris cheek, but he cried out in pain and jerked away. "What is it?" asked Achilles, concerned. He clasped the boy's chin and gently turned his head; Paris offered no resistance. Then he saw it; a red mark on his cheek that was becoming a bruise. "How did that happen? Did somebody strike you?"

"My father," admitted Paris, fresh tears springing to his eyes at the memory. "I ran into King Odysseus in the halls and asked him if you mentioned talking to me last night. I thought – I thought that you'd be up laughing all night about how I cried, so I didn't believe him when he said you didn't. I asked him several times. My – my father s-said I was acting like an –"he closed his eyes and lifted his faced to the sky, trying to force the emotions down –"eager slut. Accused me of spreading my legs f-f-for you and told me that if I act, acted like that again, he'd throw me to the Greek soldiers and tell them they could..."

With an angry flash in his eyes, Achilles pulled him into a crushing embrace. Paris stiffened momentarily, then melted into his arms. It had been so long since someone held him like that. He could almost believe that the Greek actually cared about him.

"Even if he did do that," Achilles vowed passionately, "no harm would come to you. I'll make it very clear to the men that I'll castrate and gouge the eyes out of any one of them who touches or even looks at you in a way you don't like."

"Do you mean that?" Paris moved out of those warm, comforting arms to look him in the eyes. Achilles nodded grimly. "You – you won't tell anyone that I cried either?"

"Not a soul," murmured the Greek, leaning forward and planting a gentle kiss on his bruised cheek. Paris shivered at the touch and their eyes locked. Their lips were only inches apart; it felt like they were being pulled together...

"I have to go back to the palace before anyone comes looking for me," whispered Paris. "If Father found out that I was out here with you, he would – would be very angry."

"You don't have to." Achilles was surprised by the pleading tone in his own voice. "I could take you away from all of this, right now."

Paris let out a humorless chuckle. "And go where?"

"Anywhere you want."

"There would be no time to round up your men. What do you think would happen to them if we just disappeared?" Paris questioned in a thick voice. He moved away from Achilles, shaking a little. Was he just trying to get him away from what little protection he had in the city so he could rape him at his leisure?

Achilles saw the boy's growing fears and forced himself to relent – for now. "You're right," he said. "But I don't you to leave here without me knowing when we can speak again. My I see you tonight? In the garden?"

"I can't ask Father," Paris told him, alarmed. He wavered at the disappointed look on the warrior's face. "But I'll try to slip away after the banquet, if it's just for a little while."

"Until tonight then," smiled Achilles, helping him to his feet. "And remember, anytime you want to leave Troy all you have to do is tell me."

Paris didn't answer; instead he walked slowly and silently back to the city. His thoughts remained on the Greek back at the cove; he could still feel his eyes watching him. Confusion, fear, and hope warred within him as he raised a shaking hand to his bruised – and kissed – cheek.

To be continued...

A/N: In the "real world," I'm a grad student who's hoping to write a major paper on and the people who use it. Would anyone out there be interested in helping me out by taking a survey? I'll give more specifics to those who volunteer; just know that if you choose to do so, no personal information (such as name and e-mail address) will find its way into the paper or anyone else's hands. It's open to everyone who uses the website, not just people who review my stories (if you don't feel like reviewing but are interested in taking the survey, my e-mail address in on my author's page.) Be sure to let me know your e-mail address if you volunteer; mention your e-mail server a couple of times since that part's been cut off more often than not in some of the responses I've already received. Thanks for your time!