After Troy
Chapter 22 – Farewell
Achilles sat up with a sense of immediacy. He shot a timid look around the room and, noting the lack of Patroclus of Hades, breathed a sigh of relief. Looking around once more he saw Paris and let out a small, frightened noise at the wise, mature gaze with which he was being fixed.
"Good morning." He said timidly, more out of habit than anything else. Paris just took a deep breath and closed his eyes, before raising them again, this time fuelled with a little more anger.
"It is never morning here." Paris spoke smoothly. "Nor would this be a 'good' one if it were."
Achilles brows closed in on each other as he stared at the once-boy before him. Something had changed in him. He seemed... grown.
"Paris..." He began, but silenced himself when he saw the frustrated look in the man's eyes.
"That god, if indeed he can call himself that, I know what he did to you." Paris said, now lowering his eyes to the ground. "He did it to me also." He spoke almost guiltily.
It was now that Achilles understood what really angered the boy.
"Paris," he paused, "you know I only love you."
Paris drew a short, shaky breath and looked up at his lover. "I know." He whispered, eyes brimming with tears.
Achilles leapt from where he sat, ignorant of his nakedness, and took the young man in his arms, holding him as close as he could, and as he had desired to for so long.
Slowly Paris' arms raised themselves to take Achilles' neck and he pulled back his flushed face from the other's shoulders. Achilles' heart broke when he saw the lonely, pleading look in his love's eyes, the small frown that plagued his lips, and the tears that profaned his beautiful face.
"In whose form did he appear?" Paris asked, his voice faltering, not wanting to know the answer.
Achilles frowned in apology. "He took the form of Patroclus." He said quietly, as though hoping the other man would not hear him.
"Then he took the form of lust?" Paris questioned.
It pained Achilles to admit. Barely a few years ago he would have stood outraged and killed the man who dared suggest there was nothing but lust between he and Patroclus. Now, though, he realised that their love had passed. It would never be forgotten, not in all the eternity that he lived, but it had had its time and now his heart belonged to the young brunette in his arms.
"Yes, he took lusts form." Achilles nodded to reaffirm his message.
"It was the same for me." Paris breathed quickly for a few moments, quelling the emotions within him. "He took on the appearance of Helen." Eyes downcast or staring over Achilles' shoulder, Paris explained. "It is said that he cannot take the form of the true love of a persons heart, because the heart will decipher the difference. With an image of lust, the mind and heart are ignored and the body dominates."
Achilles nodded. "I would believe that to be true." He pushed Paris' hair from his face and smiled down at him, taking him again in his arms. There they sat for some time, thinking very little but relishing in the feel of the other against their own form for a time.
Suddenly Achilles pulled back. "But Paris, tell me of this place. Is your existence acceptable for the time being? I am desperately trying to have you returned, the gods have made arrangements, though for the moment..."
Paris silenced him with a smile and a hand on his cheek. "It is passable, Achilles." He made a sad half-smile, staring at Achilles' chest and playing with the necklace that hung about it. "The only thing I lack is you." He whispered. Then, seeming to gain some further courage from somewhere, he looked up into the other man's eyes. "But you are needed in the land of the living." He said resolutely. "I should not even have delayed you this long."
Paris stood up and threw Achilles' clothes in his direction, watching with a smile as the warrior dressed his fine form. "I wish you to be kind to Hector and Aeneas." He instructed the older man. "And greet them both from me when you return. And help Aeneas with these tasks he has been assigned." He smiled and took Achilles' hand when he had finished clothing himself. "And return to me when time permits." He whispered.
"I will, my love." Achilles promised. "I will."
With equal desire each man suddenly wrapped his arms around the other and took him in a fiery, passionate kiss. Achilles grinned as he broke away.
"I have missed that." He said with a raised eyebrow and a cheeky expression. "And much more..."
"Soon enough." Paris promised, knowing Achilles would catch his meaning. "Go now, and return soon."
Achilles stepped away and drew a deep breath, closing his eyes and concentrating.
When he opened them again, there stood before him the one man he needed most to see. His renewed life was all that he desired, but he knew that he would have to tie up old ends before he could move on, and this was the most important of them.
"Achilles!" Patroclus called, running forth and planting kisses on every kissable part of the face of the immortal warrior. He withdrew and frowned as he noted the sad look on the other mans face. "What is it?" He begged softly. "Are you not here, are you not dead?" He gasped. "Are you dead?" Patroclus' hands shot to his mouth.
"No, Patroclus." Achilles said, barely able to stop the tears flowing from his eyes. "I..." he faltered and took a deep breath to steady himself. "The gods made me immortal." He said. "I can never die." He took the young man's hands and kissed the palm of each. Patroclus reclaimed his right hand and caressed Achilles' cheek with a tenderness he would sorely miss. He had loved this man dearly and for such a long time, this parting seemed the hardest he would have to make.
"Then you are here to say good bye?" Patroclus asked, always keen to Achilles' real purposes. He stepped back and bowed his head. When he again looked up, Achilles was shocked and confused to see both tears and a smile gracing his sweet face.
"Yes, I am here to say that." Achilles told him, still afraid to say the words. "Why do you smile?" He asked, perplexed as to what played in the man's head.
"When there is nothing binding a soul to this place," Patroclus explained, "it can move on."
Achilles smiled for his friend, knowing this would mean a great deal to the young man, as much as immortality meant to him. "I am all that binds you here?" He asked.
"Yes, I can feel it." Patroclus nodded. "You have but to say the words and my soul is free to continue its evolution."
"Very well, then." Achilles smiled sadly, tears falling once more. He leaned forward and gently placed one last chaste kiss on his old friends' lips, and once on his head, before standing back.
"Good bye." Patroclus said, a final sadness in his voice.
"Good bye." Achilles whispered and watched as Patroclus' form faded away as water might into sand.
Very soon the image was gone and Achilles stood alone some time before he, too, closed his eyes and disappeared.