Hermes heard a noise that woke him, and he sat up, startled. He couldn't believe that anybody would knock on his door instead of shouting for him. Sitting in bed, he tried to clear the sleep from his head. Another knock sounded out, and the door cracked open as Hercules peeked his head in. Memory caught up with him, and the past few hours of excitement came into his mind. He breathed out, gesturing for his little brother to come in.

Hercules walked in and closed the door behind him, looking around the room again. Hermes could see the tension around his eyes, and he swung his legs off the bed and patted the spot beside him. Hercules sidled over and sat down, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. They sat there in silence for a few minutes. Then Hermes sighed.

"Is anybody else awake?"

The boy shrugged. "I didn't see anybody." He paused. "What are we going to do about Mother and Father? And the others?"

Hermes hummed. "I'm not sure. We have to be careful of Ambrose."

"Who is this guy?" Hercules asked. "I mean, I know you said that he was mad at the gods, but why?"

"His father was punished by Ares," Hermes replied grimly. "And when he went to implore Zeus to lift the curse, Zeus sided with Ares. His father is in a coma, and no human medicine can help him. He's angry. Very angry. And since two gods refused to help him, he decided to punish them. And not just them. All of them."

"So… not you?"

Hermes smiled. "I suppose he includes me. Though you know I'm nothing like the others."

"Well, he tried to kill me and Triton, too," Hercules groused. "And I don't appreciate that. Neither of us had anything to do with what happened to his father."

"I suppose he considers their family just as dangerous," Hermes said.

"What do you think his next move is?"

Hermes went quiet, his silver eyes gleaming as his mind worked. He pursed his lips then spoke. "I suppose he will try and go to the cursed and try to get them to agree with him. Although they're mortal now, they still have divine blood that won't allow them to die without help. But I think he'll want to kill us all at the same time. And since I'm not there…"

"So he's going to use the cursed to come after you?" Hercules asked. Hermes nodded, and Hercules hesitated. "Do you think they'll do that?"

A shadow passed over the god's face. "I don't know," he whispered. "I've helped them all for years, but they might see me as part of the problem, just as Ambrose does."

Hermes brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them. To Hercules, he looked like a frightened child who was being scolded for something that he didn't do. He wrapped his arm around Hermes and shook him gently.

"Come on, Merc," he said gently. "They won't give you away."

The sad, tremulous smile on Hermes's face told Hercules that his older brother certainly didn't believe that. And once again, his heart broke for Hermes, the god who didn't ask to be born, who had been taken advantage of his whole life because of Zeus's lust and bad decision. And he hoped fiercely that those he had worked so hard to help would be loyal to him, the one god who took his time to ease their pain and their burdens, for even a few hours.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Prometheus was seated on the grass, looking at the small man before him. He had called for the Titan, and though Prometheus was leery about this particular mortal, he was interested. To his surprise, there were others there, others that Hermes, bless his kindly heart, had spoken of. Arachne, the woman who had been turned into a spider creature by Athena, was gnawing on the carcass of a deer, her long pincers snapping off flesh with ease. A terribly emaciated man sat there, water dripping from his entire body as his hungry eyes dashed around fearfully. He clutched a plate full of lamb and a large pitcher of water was at his side. Prometheus figured that the man was Tantalus, and it looked as if he was afraid of even looking at the food lest it disappear.

A cow stood, her tail flicking at a persistent fly that refused to leave her alone. Her eyes were not that of a docile farm animal, though. They were bright and intelligent. 'Io,' Prometheus thought grimly. An extremely fit man was pacing the room up and down, his arms and hands occasionally moving as if to push something in front of him. The Titan knew that it was Sisyphus, the man cursed to forever roll a boulder up a hill and never reach the top. Atlas strode over and greeted Prometheus, seating himself and rolling out the knots in his shoulders. Prometheus patted him then turned to appraise the others.

Another man was sitting in a stream, a band around his mouth as he grunted and muttered behind it. Judging by the severe burns on his back, Prometheus knew it was Ixion. The poor soul had been so frantic to please the gods that he had killed his own son and served him to them. He had been so frightened, Hermes had told him, to displease Zeus that he had committed the murder in a state of madness. Zeus had never understood, had never tried to understand his insanity, and instead of soothing him, the king of the gods had punished him.

A thin, bedraggled woman came forward, depression in every step. Her eyes darted around from face to face, and when she saw nothing that she desired, she sat down. Out of the remaining cursed people, it had to be Lamia, the woman who had been cursed by Hera to desire the flesh of children. She had even eaten her own because of that terrible curse. A teenager with snakes for hair strolled over and sat down, dark sunglasses over her eyes. That was Medusa, he thought.

A deer and a rooster strode over to the cow, and they began to talk quietly. Actaeon, the deer, said something to Alectryon, and the rooster nodded and fluttered his wings. In a flash, the fly was gone, and Io relaxed, her tail hanging limply, relief in every line of her animal body. The man who had summoned them looked around, a dark look in his eyes. Then he called for their attention. Everybody went silent, staring at the man who had somehow ended each of their torments.

"Greetings, all of you," Ambrose said. "I wanted to bring you here to share some excellent news." He paused then snapped his fingers. Over a hundred men came in, holding a variety of men and women, who were blindfolded and gagged with their hands tied. Prometheus frowned, unsure of where this was going.

"What do we care about these people?" he asked, his booming voice causing the men and women to freeze and shrink away.

Ambrose smiled. "You've obviously noticed that you're all free from your curses. Besides you, Prometheus, everybody else was freed only a couple of days ago. And the reason for that," he continued, his eyes glittering, "is because I have made the gods and goddesses mortal."

There was silence, then excitement washed through the crowd as they began to realize who the captured people were. Prometheus alone didn't say anything. He didn't trust this chemist. It was clear that Ambrose wanted something. And despite what Zeus had done to him, the god had begun to make it up to him in small ways. The animosity that he felt for the gods wasn't as sharp as when he was chained to the rock. The others hadn't had any time to work on forgiveness, and Prometheus knew that they could be taken advantage of.

"What do you want, Ambrose?" Prometheus boomed.

Everybody turned to look at the Titan. Even Atlas was surprised. "Come on, Theus," he said. "We should celebrate! They're out of the way!"

"All of them?" he asked coldly.

Silence ensued, and all eyes turned to Ambrose, whose expression was suddenly wary. This wasn't the reaction he had counted on. He weighed his options then he spoke.

"Not all of them. There is one missing. I need your help to get him to me to end this insanity. Their era needs to end."

"Who is missing?" Prometheus asked.

"Hermes," Ambrose replied.

What happened next shocked Ambrose. He had expected them to jump forward, to unquestioningly join him to end the gods! But instead, they all froze. The silence stretched on for one minute. Two. Three. Then Prometheus shook his head.

"If you were after anybody else, everybody here would agree," he said, crossing his arms. "But you just picked the one god that none of us want to hurt. He's the only one we care about, that we respect. You've made a mistake bringing us here to find him so that you can kill him."

The mortals that were holding the mortalized gods and goddesses didn't speak. The gods and goddesses didn't move as their thoughts raced. Ambrose had spent days telling them how terrible they were, how no god or goddess was appreciated by anybody with sense. And without their powers and in a drugged state, they had begun to believe him. But to hear that Hermes, their thin little messenger without a life of his own, was not only not loved, but respected by those they had doomed to an eternity of misery, was more of a shock than being turned mortal.

Ambrose himself was also confused. "I don't understand," he said slowly. "What makes Hermes different from all of them?" He gestured at the immortals-turned mortal.

"Because," Prometheus said softly. He looked around at each of the cursed people, and in their eyes, he saw gratefulness, fear, and agreement. "Hermes cares. They don't. Not unless they're forced to. But Hermes has always cared. Ever since he became the messenger, he would visit me and talk with me and ease my pain and bring me food and drink. He would do it every two weeks, without fail. And even after Hercules freed me, he would find me, and we would talk."

"He'd talk to me, too," Atlas said, his eyes on the sky that he no longer had to hold up. "He brought herbs, salves, pain relievers, anything to ease the ache in my back. He wasn't strong enough to take over for a while, but I didn't care. He was there. He was company. I don't want him dead."

"Neither do I," Arachne said, a growling hiss underlying her feminine voice. "He was the only one of the gods who even looked at me after I was cursed. He's a friend."

Ixion nodded sharply and gestured with his hands emphatically. Io lowed, and then spoke.

"I hate Hera. I hate Zeus. I hate them all. All except Hermes."

"Hermes is the only one worth anything," Alectryon said, clucking irritably.

Ambrose frowned. "You're not serious." Steady eyes stared at him, their faces still and serious. "He must have you brainwashed!"

"No," Prometheus said sternly. "Hermes and his kids are the only ones who really care. And I'm sure that if you go and talk with him, you can work things out."

There was a pause. "Kids?" Ambrose asked. "Hermes doesn't have kids."

"Of course he does," Prometheus said. "He just made sure that nobody else knew about them. If you think you have a grievance against Zeus and Hera and the others, it is nothing compared with what Hermes has been through. And I'd have to say that I think he's a much better person than you."

Ambrose pursed his lips. "What makes you say that?"

"Because he's been wronged by every one of them." Prometheus pointed at the captive gods and goddesses. "Many, many times. They've ruined his life in a hundred ways, and he had to basically rewrite history for a semblance of a normal life. And despite all of that, he hasn't tried to get revenge, hasn't tried to kill them."

"If what you're saying is the truth, then why wouldn't he try?" Ambrose asked.

Prometheus stood up, dusting off his chiton. "Because he swore to himself that he would never, ever be like them." He looked around. "I won't help you, Ambrose. Not to kill Hermes."

The Titan turned and strode away, picking his way through the trees. Ambrose stared after him, disbelieving. Could it truly be possible, he wondered as he turned to look at his prisoners, that there could be a god who truly wasn't heinous?