Hercules told Phil that he was going camping again. When Phil asked why, Hercules answered with a half-truth: he had to study for another history test, and he really didn't want to fail. Phil thought about it then agreed, telling the boy to be careful and not trust any strangers. Hercules took off as Apollo's chariot was on the horizon. He went to the exact same forest, the exact same spot, and set up camp.

He was excited and nervous, hoping that Mercury would show up again, though he knew the chances were slim to none. The man had probably been camping. It was a whole week later, but still, the boy had to hope. The way the man had explained the gods' genealogy had stuck with him. Now he was moving on to the sons and daughters of the major gods. He knew most of them, but he was particularly interested in Hermes. He couldn't find much about him, despite scouring the library for hours.

As he stoked the fire to cook some beef he'd brought, he glanced around the darkening forest. He felt eyes on him, but he shook off the sensation. He was a demigod, a hero-in-training, and he could handle anything. After staring at the fire for a few minutes, he picked up his scroll and began to read about Athena's birth. The first thing he noticed was that it didn't list a mother. Hercules scowled, scanning the page. She had to have a mother! But no mother was listed.

"Pegasus," Hercules said despondently. "Athena doesn't have a mother, apparently. My mother and father are siblings, and I'm going to fail this test. Why does this have to be so complicated?"

The horse whinnied, and there was a soft laugh. Hercules jerked his head up to see Mercury leaning against the same tree as before, his tanned skin practically radiating. He flipped his dark hair over his shoulder and walked over, the same lithe grace in every movement. The man didn't ask to sit down this time, plopping down and crossing his legs.

"What are you doing back here, Hercules?" Mercury asked, grinning at him.

"I, um, have more questions," Hercules muttered. "About the gods. Well, one in particular."

"Really?" Mercury asked, taking the beef from Hercules's hands and skewering it on a spit. He began to cook the meat. "Enough for two. You were hoping I'd be here," he said knowingly.

"Well…"

Mercury laughed again. "I don't mind. What do you want to know about? You were mentioning Athena."

"Yeah. Who's her mother?" Hercules asked.

"No mother, dear Hercules," Mercury replied. "Zeus got a headache and she burst out fully formed. Became the goddess of wisdom, and she is a chaste goddess, still a virgin, and she has a rivalry with Ares."

"And Ares?" Hercules asked.

"Born of Zeus and Hera," Mercury replied, turning the meat and sprinkling some kind of seasoning on it from a pouch at his side. "Not very popular, save in Sparta, where war is basically worshipped. Hot-headed, has two sons via Aphrodite, Terror and Fear."

"I've met them. They're my study buddies for war history," Hercules said. "Aphrodite?"

"Technically a great aunt of the major gods. Cronus, Zeus's father, cut off his own father's genitals—that would be Uranus—and threw it into the sea. The foam that resulted turned into the goddess Aphrodite. She is the goddess of beauty, of love, of female sexuality." Mercury paused and grinned as Hercules's face flushed, and the boy looked away. "So who is this particular god you want to know about?"

Hercules jerked his head back and brightened. "Hermes. I can't find where he came from. I've looked everywhere in the library, both the public and the school library, and I can't find his parentage, or where he came from, or anything."

Mercury checked the meat then gestured for something to place it on. "It's done, Hercules. Plates?"

Hercules quickly pulled two wooden plates out and handed them to Mercury. Mercury took a knife from his hip, placed the beef onto one plate then cut it into perfect halves. He transferred one half to the other plate and handed it over to Hercules, who took it gratefully. The boy froze.

"Aw, man, I forgot forks and knives."

Mercury smiled. "I have a knife, but no forks. No matter. It's just us. We can eat with our hands. I have some water to wash our hands and faces when we're done."

Hercules smiled back. "Sounds good to me."

He picked up the slab of beef and took a bite. It was perfectly cooked and juicy, and the flavor. Hercules had never tasted anything so good. He couldn't help but make a soft noise of satisfaction. Mercury grinned at him then took a bite of his own beef. The man grunted with delight.

"Delicious," he sighed after he'd swallowed. "Good choice, Hercules. Great cut of beef."

"Mmph." Hercules chewed and then gulped down the meat. "Thanks. What's in that pouch? This is the best thing ever."

Mercury laughed. "I'm not giving you my secret spice recipe," he said, wagging a finger. "Not yet at least. You haven't proved trustworthy enough yet. But yes," he added. "It is the best thing ever."

Hercules laughed, and they finished the great meal in silence. Mercury's grey eyes sparkled with joy as he saw the boy licking his fingers, and he got great pleasure out of the satisfied sigh that fell from his lips.

"That was really good, Merc."

Mercury swallowed his last bite, licked his own fingers, then pulled out a water pouch. "Nickname?"

Hercules paused. "Do you not like it?"

"Nobody's ever given me a nickname like that." Mercury smiled and washed his hands. "You can call me Merc only if I get to call you Herc."

"Deal," Hercules said. "That's my nickname. Well, one of the kinder ones."

Mercury held out the water pouch and Hercules washed his hands, then they washed their faces and had a nice drink. Hercules was full and ready for bed, but he suddenly realized that Mercury had never answered his question about Hermes. Dinner had interrupted them. He glanced over to see the man staring at the fire. How could he be so at ease out here in the forest? What was he doing in the forest? Hercules opened his mouth to ask when Mercury began to speak.

"You asked about Hermes."

Hercules snapped his mouth closed then nodded. "Yeah. I can't find anything on him."

"He's not important enough to be remembered. I doubt you will have a question about him in your test."

"But this isn't just for my test," Hercules argued. "I like Hermes, but the last time I saw him he was…" The boy paused, unwilling to accuse Hermes of crying. "He was upset. He said it wasn't me, but I want to help, and I don't know how. I know it has something to do with the other gods and goddesses and his place among them, but I can't find anything on who his parents are, what his story is, or anything! I just want to know."

Mercury chewed on his bottom lip, keeping his grey eyes on the fire. "It's not for the test. But you care enough to want to learn how to help?"

Hercules nodded. "Yes, Merc. I want to help him. I need to help him. He's the god I'm closest to. I used to think he didn't want to be close. I mean, he always kept it professional, but a few days ago…" Again he stopped, unwilling to go into detail with this man about the personal details of what he'd seen with Hermes.

Mercury waved his hand, as if sweeping aside his hesitation. "What I tell you goes no farther than your closest friends. Hermes is very secretive, and he has a reason for that."

"You've talked to him?"

The man smiled sadly. "We've met. I've talked to him. He's the only one of the gods who is comfortable being around mortals. The others demand worship and adoration at all times, but Hermes doesn't care. He's different than the others." He paused. "Promise that you won't tell anybody but your closest friends. Promise me, Herc."

Hercules nodded. "I won't tell anybody but Cassandra and Icarus."

Mercury nodded then brought his knees up to rest his chin in the hollow between them. He wrapped his strong arms around them and suddenly looked like a child. Before Hercules could ask if Mercury was okay, the man began to talk.

"Hermes is the son of a nymph, one of the Pleiades sisters, and a major god. He was conceived and born in a single day in a cave high in the mountains. The day he was born, he snuck out of the cave and went down into the world. He stole and hid Apollo's personal herd of premium cattle then went back to the cave and pretended to be helpless again. Apollo accused him of theft, which Maia, his mother, denied because of his youth. When it was discovered that he did, indeed, steal the cattle, he offered a lyre, which he'd crafted from a turtle shell, to Apollo, who accepted it along with the return of his cattle. This is how he was born, and how the gods discovered his existence."

The man paused to let Hercules take in this information before continuing. "Hermes was placed into the care of nymphs until he was old enough to take his place on Mount Olympus to be with the gods and goddesses. He was raised deep in the woods with only dryads and naiads for company. He felt great compassion for mortals as he watched them from afar and saw their struggles, and he had trouble reconciling the gods' selfish behaviors and lives of ease with the toil and work of the mortals.

"When he was finally brought to Olympus, the other gods and goddesses were so different from the compassionate nymphs and the humble love of the simple mortals that he had watched. He was treated badly by them all, ridiculed and abused for the simple fact that he had been born. Hermes was too different for them, so he took to visiting the nymphs he loved, and he found ways to spend time with mortals and learn their ways. He studied the various cultures of the world, traveled abroad, and learned many things that the other gods and goddesses considered worthless. He was mocked for his love of mortals, for his compassion toward them, and so his life became miserable."

"That's awful," Hercules murmured. "No wonder he's upset."

"There was hope. He had children, some by nymphs, some by mortals, some by goddesses. They lit up his life, reminded him that there was good in the world, but he knew that good was not from Mount Olympus. He taught his sons and daughters to be like the nymphs and mortals, not the gods, and they grew and learned much. But the gods and goddesses couldn't leave them alone, couldn't let them be happy. Much trouble came for Hermes and his children, to the point where Hermes wished to be mortal just so he could die and escape it all."

Hercules's mouth fell open. "What?"

"But Hermes found a way to get around this. He was cunning, so he rearranged things. He made himself disappear from the mortal records so that his story couldn't be told anymore. With a drop of blood and water from the pool of forgetfulness, he forced the gods to forget his lineage. He was an anomaly to them, and they forgot his parentage, his stories, his children. And he turned into a messenger, somebody who wasn't important to the others so that he wouldn't attract attention, and they loved this god that served them, that made their easy lives even easier.

"But they loved him for what he did, not who he was, because to them, he wasn't who he was. He was forced to fake his personality until it became a part of his being, so tightly wrapped around him that he would forget who he truly was if it wasn't for his rendezvous with the nymphs and his passion for mortals and their lives and his beloved children, who don't claim their godhood for the sake of their father, but instead live amongst the same nymphs and mortals. He is so very tired of running around for everybody else. He wants to be himself again, but he can't because the other gods would abuse and hate him as they did before, because no matter what he does he's a screwup and a mistake, even though he didn't choose to be hated, he didn't choose to be a god, he didn't choose to be born!"

Hercules was startled by the anger that Mercury was showing. Tears gleamed in his grey eyes, and his jaw was clenched as he stared into the dying flames of the fire. He seemed so impassioned, and the boy didn't understand why. The man must have been close friends with Hermes to feel such pain for the god. He slid over and wrapped an arm awkwardly around the man's shoulder.

"It's okay," Hercules said.

Mercury swallowed and fiercely rubbed his eyes. He pushed away from Hercules and stood up, looking into the dark forest. "I've got to go," he said thickly. "Good luck on your test, Herc."

And with a few strides, he disappeared into the woods, leaving Hercules alone and bewildered. He stared after the man, shocked by the display. He picked up his history scroll and half-heartedly began to read it, unaware that Mercury had not left. He stood just out of reach of the firelight, watching his little brother try and cope with what he'd just told him.

Tears fell freely down his face, pain etched so deeply upon his heart that it nearly broke it in two. He couldn't cry in front of Hercules. Not like this. Hermes couldn't bear to be so close to his little brother. It was a mistake to think that he could get close to Hercules, to help him grow. It would be straight back to professional for him. The pain was too much, too overwhelming, so he finally turned his back and walked away, resolving to be done with the whole thing.

But Hermes didn't know how lucky he was that this plan of his wouldn't work.