Walking through the airport was strange. There were people everywhere, milling about like ants, many of them appearing exhausted. Hades pressed his wife closer to him. Persephone pulled out her phone, eying their gate number on the digital ticket. "This way," she said, leading them to the security line.

He settled behind her, placing his hands on her waist. An elderly woman in the serpentine line glared at him. He glared back, and she scoffed. He estimated that she had about...oh, a year and a half left. Persephone turned around to face him. "I know what you're thinking," she said. "Be kind, husband. Or I will make things considerably worse for you."

He arched a brow. He was already quite uncomfortable, and grateful for the fit and color of the jeans Apollo had given him; they at least managed to hide his aching arousal. Mostly. "As you wish," he said.

"I wish it." She kissed him, chaste and soft, and he stepped away from her slightly, moving to hold her hand. More people were staring at the both of them, and he knew that drawing too much attention was dangerous. Still: he wanted to touch his wife. He craved the feeling of her smooth skin underneath his fingers, of her small frame tucked against him, and he was irritated that he could only only hold her hand without drawing ire or suspicion.

Something tugged at his leg, near his knee, and he looked down—only to see a small child gaping up at him. A little girl, three or four? Young. He froze, completely unsure of what to say or do. He didn't know how to talk to children; he never spoke to children. Not as Hades, the god, or as Logan, the man. "Uh," he sputtered. "H-hello, little one." The line ahead of them was moving slowly, and his wife turned to face the child as well. He could tell she was smiling, enjoying his uncertainty in the face of a challenging adversary: a mortal toddler. "My daddy says you're my uncle, mister."

"I-I see," Hades said, swallowing; Persephone covered her mouth, but he knew that she was laughing. The tips of his ears felt hot. "Do you know where your daddy is? It's not safe for little kids to wander around alone...or to talk to strangers."

"My daddy is back there." She pointed to a man outside of the line, who was already running over to them. Hades instantly recognized him: the golden curls, the stormy, gray-blue eyes. William. "Oh my God, Amanda, you scared me," her father said, picking her up. "S-sorry about that, Logan. I turn away for one second and she runs over to you. Kids, man." He had dark circles under his eyes, and a day's worth of stubble on his cheeks. He looked worn out.

"Will," Hades said. William still had no idea who he was, had not the faintest clue—yet he very much carried himself like Zeus, cool confidence and strength brimming from him effortlessly. That was irritating. "Good to see you."

William peered at him, looking confused, and Hades gathered that Logan probably wouldn't have said such a thing to his younger brother. Oh, well; it was the truth. Hades was glad to see him. Mostly.

"It's...it's good to see you too, Logan." Will's gaze darted over to Persephone, and Hades could tell that he recognized her. "And who is this? Did you finally find someone to marry your sorry ass?" he asked, holding his hand out to Persephone. "William Fitzgerald."

She took his hand, smiling. "Stella. A pleasure to meet you, William," she said. "Amanda is beautiful."

"Thanks." Will smiled, bouncing the little girl higher up on his hip. Hades could tell that Will was suspicious of the two of them, could see the cogs and wheels working behind Will's eyes as he looked at the wedding bands on each of their fingers. "What do we say, Amanda?"

"Thank you," she said, her voice small and squeaky. Hades felt a deep ache inside his chest. She had dimples; she was smiling at him, he realized. His niece. Or rather, Logan's niece. She hardly looked like his brother. Raven-black hair and almond-shaped eyes. She looked like her mother, Jing. He met her when she was a baby, only briefly; Will's wife was not happy to see Logan in their house, and he couldn't blame her for that. By that point, he had already been made.

"She thinks you're Batman," Will whispered, wagging his eyebrows conspiratorially.

"Bruce Wayne, daddy!" Except the little girl couldn't pronounce the 'Bruce' correctly; it sounded like 'Bwuce' instead. Persephone guffawed, and Hades' cheeks grew hot.

"My bad, baby. She thinks you look like Bruce Wayne."

The line had moved further along now, and soon Will would be cut off from them. "Bruce Wayne is much cooler than me, sweetie," Hades said, rubbing the back of his neck. Fates, he was nervous. He hated feeling nervous, almost as much as he hated feeling afraid. "Nuh-uh," she said. Suddenly shy, the little girl turned to hug her father, burying her face into his shoulder.

"Where are you headed?" Will asked. "Not like you to fly anywhere. Must be far."

"California," Persephone said, weaving her arm around Hades'. Will narrowed his eyes at her, growing more suspicious. "I feel like we've met before, Stella."

"What are you doing back in Empire?" Hades asked, trying to distract his brother. It was possible that Will either remembered Stella from his limited interactions with her mother—or that a deeper part of him recognized her as his daughter. Hades couldn't have that, not yet; not before they got to Zagreus.

Will cocked his head to the side, a crooked smile playing at the edges of his lips, like he knew Hades was attempting to distract him. "Funeral for a colleague. You didn't hear about Congressman Kelley? I'm pretty sure he was your rep, if you're still living in the Diamond District…"

"I did." Hades sighed. Now he understood. Congressman David Kelley had been fatally shot while shopping for groceries in an instance of gang violence over a week ago. He hadn't been the target; the robbers were inexperienced and fired a negligent discharge, which ricocheted off the floor—and into the congressman. The man died instantaneously, and that story made national news, too—and with Logan only recently getting out of the hospital from his apparent heart attack.

Michael Gambino had called him about that...and the Morenos...and the baby that Toothfairy had been found with. As if they were connected incidents. It wasn't the 1960s anymore, though; taking out politicians so blatantly was far too risky...and too gauche, to be quite frank. But still: Logan was the boss and major kingpin of Empire City, and if other gangs wanted to operate, they needed his permission to do so. Ergo, anything happening out of the ordinary was also his responsibility.

After a year of relative peace, things in the city were beginning to spiral out of control, and it suddenly occurred to Hades that the recent unraveling may have been the work of a god. Ricky Moreno said that an angel had spoken to him. Moreover, he recognized Logan as Hades, before Hades had even come to terms with his identity. Something was afoot here. The New Gods? Hades frowned. He would need to speak with Odin again at some point; for now, however, saving Zagreus and keeping his wife happy were his two priorities.

Will's voice interrupted his thoughts. "I don't suppose you had anything to do with what happened to him...right? Because that could be very bad for me. Some of my donors are already getting...skittish."

Persephone's eyebrows shot up; Hades bristled. "Certainly not," he growled. "I can't believe you're asking me something like this in an airport."

Will's friendly expression didn't change. Hades hated that his brother had become quite the talented politician."Well?"

Hades groaned and lowered his voice, whispering, "The execution was sloppy, not to mention stupid. And I would gain nothing from it, either. Give me and my organization a little more credit, brother." Persephone stiffened next to him. Priority two, failed.

"Ah-ha," Will hummed. "So we are brothers, then. When it's convenient for you. Sure Sofie will be happy to hear about that. You know where she is, Logan? Because I don't."

Hades' eyes twitched. Was Sofia missing? He knew that she had moved, but—Hades swallowed. There were definitely greater forces at play. "William…" The line was moving more quickly now; Hades spotted Will's wife and their two sons. Her dark eyes threw daggers at him. Hera? At the very least, she was similar. His brother definitely had a type. "I don't like what you're implying."

"I don't like that I have to imply it. But hey, looks like we're gonna get cut off from you, Logan, so for what it's worth...it was good to see you."

Hades could feel the hum of electricity in the air, threatening to spark. Will may not have known who he was, not yet, but he was tapping into his strength nonetheless.

"Likewise...Will," Hades said through his teeth, nodding his head towards his brother. "Be seeing you." Will smiled, still suspicious, but doing his best to save face. He held his daughter's hand to wave at them. "They're leaving now, Amanda, they're gonna go fly in a plane just like we did. Say goodbye."

"Bye-bye, Catwoman!"

"Goodbye, Amanda," Persephone said, giggling, sweet and ever-charming. She knew how to talk to everyone, even when she was uncomfortable. It was one of the things Hades most admired about her. And she was certainly uncomfortable right now; she wasn't leaning into him like she normally would. Anger burned in him at his brother, hot, hot, hot.

"Bye-bye, Uncle Bruce Wayne!" Amanda's tiny voice cooled the fire. It was unfair of Hades to be angry at Will, he knew. His brother could be foolish about certain things—but the man wasn't stupid.

"Bye-bye, Amanda," Hades said, waving at her as Will turned and began to walk away from the line. She was smiling at him again, over Will's shoulder, no longer shy.

"She's cute," Persephone said, entwining her fingers with his once more. He sensed hesitancy in her touch.

"She is," he agreed. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it. What could he say? He doubted anything coming from his mouth right now would comfort her.

"Are you two flying together?" the TSA agent asked. They had finally reached the front of the line.

"Yes," Persephone answered, resolute.

"Tickets and IDs, please." The agent let his wife pass quickly, only glancing at her ID briefly. With him, however, the agent stared, looking back and forth between his face and and his ID at least three times. "You two celebrities or something?" the agent finally asked.

Hades narrowed his eyes. "No."

"Huh," the agent said, handing him back his things. "Look really familiar, is all. Have a safe trip, Mr. Black."

"Mornin', mornin' travelers," another agent said, an older woman, much too jolly for Hades' tastes. "All coats must come off, along with all belts and shoes. Pockets must be empty. No lint, no change. E-M-P-T-Y. If you are carrying a laptop in your carry-on, that must come out and be placed in its own separate bin. All liquids must be either thrown out or kept in three ounce bottles. Follow these rules and save us from havin' to pat you down, 'kay? Let's go, let's go, keep the line movin'."

Hades kicked off his boots and unhooked his belt, heaping his backpack and leather aviator coat into their own separate bins. He was directed to step through the metal detector. "Can I go through the full-body scanner instead?" he asked. He knew he still had fragments of shrapnel in his body—not to mention screws and pins.

"Metal detector," an agent said. He sighed, stepping through the metal detector; it beeped loudly. Persephone was already on the other side, waiting for him patiently.

"Step this way, sir," an agent said. He waved a handheld metal detector in front of Hades, which buzzed mechanically as it passed by Hades' hips. The agent sighed. "I'm going to pat you down, sir. What I'm going to do is check from your neck down to your legs. I'll be tugging on your collar and your waistband. I'm going to use the front of my hands for non-sensitive areas, and the back of my hand for sensitive areas, like your groin and buttocks—"

"I have metal pins in my hip and femur," Hades blurted, anxiety gripping him. The thought of a stranger touching him with anything other than a handshake made him break out into a sudden sweat.

The agent sighed again."Look, man, I still have to pat you down. Do you have any other medical devices or sensitive areas I need to know about?"

Hades shook his head. "Great, let's get this over with quickly. Spread your arms and legs for me. Wider, over the yellow footprints. Hands facing up. Thanks." Hades' nervous eyes searched for his wife in the crowd. Mercifully, he found her, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity...and, was that sadness? He swallowed.

The agent, a young man, patted all around his neck and arms, down his torso, over his buttocks and groin. It felt like the agent was taking forever, and Hades' hip smarted sharply as the man slightly squeezed the top of his leg, near his pocket. Fates, he hated airports.

"Okay, sir, you're good to go."

"Thank you." Flushed with embarrassment and anxiety, Hades grabbed his belongings from the bins, hurriedly clasping on his belt and putting on his boots. Persephone appeared next to him, smoothing back his hair.

"That didn't look fun," she said softly.

"It wasn't," he admitted. He put on his coat, grabbing the cigarette pack and zippo that he kept in the coat's right pocket. The cravings were already starting. With his free hand, he opened his backpack, picked up a nicorette chiclet, and popped it into his mouth. He frowned; this was not going to be enough.

Hand in hand, he and his wife meandered through the airport, eventually making their to a coffee shop near their gate. Hades gaped at the prices. $11 for a cup of coffee? "Fates," he cursed under his breath, throwing out his gum. "I hate airports."

Persephone laughed, which he took as a good sign, since he was vaguely aware that he had upset her, somehow, during his conversation with Will. "I've learned something new about you," she said, touching his chest. "So you're bad at dancing and you hate airports. What else should I know, Logan?"

He shrugged, ordering two coffees. "You know I've always been bad at dancing. Do you want an éclair?"

"And you have a sweet tooth, it seems. No, thank you; coffee is fine."

So he ordered one éclair for himself, and sighed when he caught her staring at it. They sat down across from each other. "Would you like a piece?" he asked her, teasing.

Persephone pursed her lips. "It does look good."

"Here," he said, tearing the soft pastry in half. She took it from his hand.

She batted her eyelashes at him. "Much appreciated, Mr. Black." Hades could feel her shoe toe against the tip of his boot.

He quirked his lip up. What was she playing at? "'Course, darlin'," he drawled, gauging her reaction to how he spoke. She leaned in. "Gotta provide for my girl," he said, hiding his smile behind his coffee as he took a sip. Hades checked the clock in the cafe. It was only noon. They had a few hours yet.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, taking a bite of the éclair piece he'd given her.

"Thought you could tell what I was thinkin'," he said, tapping his fingers atop the table.

She rolled her eyes. "Only when you're about to make an ass out of yourself, you scoundrel." Again, he felt the weight of her foot on his.

He smirked. "Scoundrel?"

"That's right."

"You like scoundrels, then."

"I like kings," she said. She took a sip of her coffee.

"You're in luck, sweetheart," he said, folding his hand over hers. "You got a two-fer with me."

She started to smile, but her expression faltered. What happened? Everything was going so well...He pulled his hand from hers. "Did I upset you?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. There was a pregnant pause before she spoke again. "But. Meeting my father today was...strange. And what he said about Congressman Kelley—I'm worried."

Hades nodded, leaning back in his seat. "I'm worried too," he said, speaking to her in the old tongue. "I don't have the full picture yet, but I suspect whoever is working behind the scenes will reveal themselves soon enough. The Fates are playing games with us and their deck is stacked."

"The house always wins," she muttered in English.

"Hmmm." He removed the cap off his coffee cup, dipped his éclair into it, and took a bite. The chocolate wasn't as rich as he preferred, but the pastry was soft. A simple pleasure that distracted him from his persistent need for a cigarette.

"When we first met a month ago, you told me you were dangerous."

He arched a brow, unsettled. "Aye, I did…"

"Tell me, Logan: what are some of your vices?"

Hades narrowed his eyes. He wasn't sure what she was after. "All of them," he answered, honestly. Wasn't much that he'd avoided, especially after being discharged from the service. He was a walking den of sin.

"So," Persephone said, taking hold of his hand, "I take it you've some experience gambling, Mr. Black."

He snorted. "Of course I do, darlin'."

"You ever win big?"

"Hmmm," he said, running his thumb over the tops of her knuckles. "On occasion."

"Even when the odds were stacked against you?"

"The odds are always stacked against you." After a moment of silence, she said, "So then, if the odds are always stacked—how do scoundrels ensure they win a game of chance?"

He grinned. "Only way to ensure you win is if you cheat."

"So while the sisters stack their decks, we'll..." she trailed off, looking up, feigning innocence.

"Load our dice," he finished. Cheating the Fates—a wicked idea. One that he would have never dared to think of, in the past. Even after he'd been assigned his dreary lot. There were ancient laws he felt needed to be respected, but now? Now, he couldn't find it in himself to care; he wanted his son to live. "You sure I'm the scoundrel?" he asked, drinking in the sight of her. His wife could feign innocence all she wanted, but she was just as ruthless as him. It was one of the many, many reasons he loved her. She'd never been a soft or wilting flower; she was the Iron Queen of the Underworld. Fates—he wanted her. His mouth watered at the thought of tasting her skin.

"You're the crime boss of a mafia syndicate, Logan," she said. Hades felt heat radiate from her hand: her power, turning his blood molten. He clenched his teeth; once again, the crotch of his jeans felt uncomfortably tight. He reached down, shifting in his seat, trying and failing to readjust himself. "You're definitely the scoundrel," she said, tittering softly at his obvious discomfort.

"This scoundrel isn't going to make it onto the plane if you keep it up," he said. It didn't take much to get him going when she was around. A flip of her hair, a certain glance she'd throw his way. And of course, whenever she touched him like this; shared a little bit of her power with him.

"You need to take care of something?" she asked him, keeping her tone light.

"Hmmm. Rather you take care of it," he said, finishing his coffee.

She sent one more surge of power into his hand, and it shot through his veins, straight into his groin. He bit back a moan, hyper-aware of the other people in the cafe. "You're a big boy, you can handle yourself, I'm sure."

He glared at her, pulling his hand away. "Are you being serious?"

"Seems like you might blow your top if you don't hurry," she said. She was right; he was rock-hard in his jeans, and it would soon become an embarrassing problem if he didn't fix it.

He stood, taking off his aviator and holding the coat in front of him. "Not quite sure what I've done to deserve this."

"Nothing," she answered, smiling. "It simply pleases me to see you squirm."

Ah, so this was part of her play. He let out a low laugh. She'd gotten very daring with him, especially in public. He quite liked that. "I'll be doing a lot more than squirmin'," he said, making his voice sound as low as possible. Her breath hitched, and he grinned to himself. "Sure you don't want to join me?" He eyed the clock in the cafe. It was 1:00pm now. They had plenty of time.

"Positive," she answered, but her voice was rough. She'd forgotten that she'd been the one who summoned him to her, all those years ago. He smiled. She'd be joining him soon enough.

He stalked over to the men's room, throwing out his coffee along the way. His heart was hammering; he could hear it beating loudly in his ears. He felt strange, fear and adrenaline pumping through him as if he were mortal. He washed his hands and pushed into a stall, grateful that the restroom was mostly empty. And it was clean; freshly cleaned, even. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle his current predicament otherwise. He hung his coat over the door. As it was, he felt his courage waning, even though his cock throbbed incessantly. He cupped himself through his pants, leaning back against the stall door. It had been a while since he'd done this; as Logan, he'd rather fight or smoke than pleasure himself. But that's not what his wife wanted, and one of his priorities was keeping her happy. With his other hand, he reached underneath his shirt, rubbing his chest and abdomen. He gave himself a squeeze through his clothes, fluttering his eyes shut. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he groaned.

The air next to him shifted, and he knew that she was there. "Believe it," she said, keeping her voice low. She nodded at him. "Keep going, Hades. I don't recall saying you could stop."

He felt his entire body flush in her presence. So she did want to watch. He swallowed the rock in his throat. With trembling fingers, he unbuckled his belt and lowered the zipper of his jeans. He spread his legs a little wider, rubbing his shaft with increasing pressure before pulling himself out of his boxer briefs. He bit back a curse; he was leaking. He grabbed the base of his cock and squeezed himself again, biting his lip as he moved his hand up the shaft and massaged the swollen head.

With his other hand, he lifted the bottom of his shirt, rubbing the planes of his stomach up and down, trying to imagine it was his wife's lithe and clever fingers touching him instead. He heard someone enter the restroom and froze, locking eyes with Persephone. He heard a zipper going down and the sound of urine hitting porcelain. There were footsteps, and then the man was gone. Hades frowned. "That man didn't wash his hands," he said.

"Keep going," she said, mildly. Her pupils were blown and she was beginning to fidget, watching him. His cock grew harder in his hand, and he moved down from the base to cup his balls, pulling on them roughly in an effort to distract himself from coming too quickly. He could see that her nipples were hard, peaking through the fabric of her bra and blouse.

"You want me," he said, stroking himself. "Why don't you turn around instead?"

She smiled. "For a ten second lay? I can tell you're close. Why should I waste my time?"

He was close: he'd been aroused the entire morning since she took him into her mouth and he hadn't been able to finish. "I'd continue," he said, doing his best to keep a moan from entering his voice. He'd been hard for her all day; it wouldn't be difficult. He was a god, wasn't he?

She arched a brow. "Oh?"

"Until you couldn't bear it any longer. Until you told me to stop." He pressed his teeth together, willing himself to slow down his pace. He was only a couple more strokes away; his body was ready to combust. He could see her pulse beating in her throat; could see the tension in her thighs as she crossed her legs. "I know you're wet," he said, licking his lips. He realized he was being rather crass, but he also found that he didn't much care. He wanted to be inside her, and he knew that she wanted the same. "Turn around."

Another man entered the restroom, peed, and left. Neither Hades nor his wife moved. Her eyes darted down to his cock, then back up to his face. She smirked, turning around and pulling her jeans down over her ass. Hades stared at the curve of her buttocks a good ten seconds before closing the short distance between them in the stall. He fiddled with the elastic of her panties, contemplating wholesale ripping them off, but he had the distinct feeling she would not appreciate that, since they were given to her. Instead, he pulled them down, chuckling to himself when she said, "hurry up."

Oh, he wanted to tease her; wanted to rub the head of his cock up and down the slickness her folds until she begged him to fill her—but he was about to come, and he wanted to release inside her; nowhere else. In one fluid motion, he pressed into her, shuddering as his climax tore through his insides and made his skin steam with heat.

"I knew you weren't going to last another minute," she said, shaking her head and laughing. He held her hips in place, rocking up into her, against the protesting and rapid softening of his cock. She twisted in his embrace, looking back at him, shock written plain across her face. He grinned, rocking into her again, and his eyes rolled back; it almost hurt being inside her. He bent her over at the waist in order to get a better angle, and she gasped in surprise and pleasure. He had softened a little, but he was getting hard again...except, he was also close to climaxing again. "I think you might get pregnant after this," he said, half-joking. She moaned, squeezing her walls around him.

"How's that?" she asked, pushing her ass back towards him, milking him. He took off his shirt, feeling very overheated, and hissed as the cool air of the bathroom met his skin. He pushed into her again, snaking his hand around her hip to fondle her clitoris. Her walls clamped around him once more and he came again, leaning forward to bite her shoulder as he continued to pump himself into her.

"I'm just going to keep filling you up until you finish," he answered, growling through his teeth. That was a frightening prospect. His prick had never been more sensitive; at this point, he could probably come from an errant breeze. Instead, though, he was buried inside her, refusing to allow himself to get soft. It fucking hurt. He rubbed her clitoris more quickly, in time with her breathing, faltering only when he heard several men step in, talking to each other.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, clamping her walls around him, making him shiver. "Don't stop!"

"Those men—"

"I don't care." Spurred on by her wantonness, Hades kept going, straining against her once more as another climax tore through him, and then another. "Fuck," he cursed, feeling completely over-stimulated. He ran his fingers into her hair and pulled on her, eliciting a moan that made his toes curl and kept him painfully aroused. She was pulsing around him, making involuntary little sounds as he pulled her hair and craned her neck back. "Harder, Hades," she breathed, absolutely shameless. He increased his pace; anyone with functioning ears could hear the quick sound of skin slapping against skin as he furiously pressed into her, again and again.

He could hear mumbling outside, something along the lines of 'I think there's a couple having sex in there.'

"Persephone, darling," he gasped. "I think we've run out of time." There were more voices in the restroom now. "Or...does my little goddess want to be caught?" he asked her, pulling roughly on her hair. She cried out, loudly—unmistakably a woman reaching her peak—and clamped hard around him, pulling one final, shuddering climax from his spent body. He laughed into her shoulder, stepping away from her on shaking, uneasy legs, and she turned to face him, a satisfied smile on her face. "Well done, Aidoneus."

"I aim to please," he panted, still trying to catch his breath. With a wave of her hand, she cleaned them both up and righted their clothing; he bit back a hiss as he felt the flames of the Underworld burn the sweat and seed from his skin, while his softening and overly-sensitive phallus was tucked back into his clothes. There was loud knocking on the stall door.

"Airport police, open up."

"Just a minute," Hades said. Persephone giggled, stepping on her tip-toes to kiss his cheek. "Meet you at the gate," she said. She disappeared, leaving behind a whirl of flower petals and the scent of lilac in her wake.

"Open up!"

Roughly, Hades pulled the door back, causing the security officer to almost fall face-forward into the toilet. "Afternoon," Hades said, steadying the man by the shoulder and stepping out of the stall. "What can I help you with, officer?"

"Where the hell is the woman?" the officer said, searching the stall frantically.

"Woman?" Hades asked, raising his eyebrows. "Not sure what you mean. I only just stepped in there to do my business."

There were several men standing near the entrance, some of them staring at him in awe, while others looked either irritated or embarrassed. "Bullshit," one of them said. "I saw your boots and another pair of shoes in that stall, dude."

"We all saw and heard you." The men nodded their heads, in agreement with one another.

Hades shrugged, putting his coat back on. "Where's the woman, then?" he asked. They all looked at one another. "Disappeared," an older man said.

Hades grinned. "Into thin air?"

"Uh…" the man stammered. "Y-yeah."

Hades stepped towards the sink and washed his hands, stifling a yawn. He suddenly felt very tired, and his groin was...sore. The officer was staring at him; the men at the entrance were, too. He shook his head. At least he would be able to get through the flight now. He hoped so, anyway.

He walked over to the entrance. They were blocking his path. "Excuse me, gentlemen, but I have a flight to catch." He towered over all of them, and they each seemed to realize this as he stood in front of them, looming. He saw defiance and irritation and awe all morph into fear on their faces, as though they each began to get a sense of who he really was—of what he really was—and suddenly they separated, averting their eyes from him, parting like the Red Sea.

He walked towards the gate, unbothered and relaxed. It was 2:00pm now. They would be boarding in thirty minutes. He sat down next to Persephone, leaning his head against her shoulder, shutting his eyes, and only opening them again when he felt her hand tugging on his. He yawned. Fates, he was exhausted.

"Our group is boarding now," she said, pulling him along. She presented both of their digital tickets to the gate manager. They were the final group to board; she took the middle seat while he barely squeezed himself into the aisle chair. Hades grunted, feeling like his long limbs were being contorted into a pretzel.

"Have seats gotten smaller?" he asked, exasperated. Persephone laughed, helping him remove his coat as he sat down. He reached into his backpack and fished out his nicotine patches. He read the box; one patch should work. He rolled up his sleeve, sticking the patch onto the skin of his forearm, and popped in another nicorette chiclet for good measure. He shut his eyes, sighing contentedly as he felt the nicotine enter his bloodstream. It wasn't the same as smoking, but it would have to do.

One of the flight attendants came by, closing the overhead bins, and Hades gripped the armrest of his seat. They would be taking off soon; he was dreading it. The black screen on the headrest in front of him suddenly illuminated, showing the brilliant, white smile of a Delta executive. Hades only gripped the armrest of his seat harder; the plane had pushed off from the gate and was now taxiing to the runway.

He only caught bits and pieces of the presentation, feeling the growing anxiety in him begin to verge on panic.

"Are you all right?" Persephone held his hand in hers.

"Cabin crew, prepare for take-off."

"F-fine," Hades stammered.

"Your palm is clammy," she said, concern clear in her voice. The plane started to turn. This was it; Hades shut his eyes. "What's gotten into you?" she asked.

"Nothing—" The engines roared, the plane shot forward, and Hades pressed himself back into his seat, clenching his teeth as the nose of the aircraft tilted upward. He groaned, realizing that they were no longer on the ground, but in the sky, flying. The plane rocked, hitting a bump of turbulent air. "Icarus taught these fools nothing," he said, his voice coming out rough. Another bump, rougher than the last, causing more than a few passengers to gasp.

The captain's voice came on over the intercom again. "Sorry about the rough air folks, we're going to try to get out of this as quickly as we can and hit our cruising altitude."

Yet another bump, and Hades noticed his vision was tunneling. "Logan," he heard Persephone say. He could feel her shaking his shoulder, and he knew that she was still calling out to him, but she sounded muffled. Was he having another panic attack? Wasn't he beyond such mortal failings? Evidently not...His chest constricted tightly, and he felt as though no matter how much air he inhaled, he couldn't catch his breath.

"Aidoneus," she said, and he looked at her, frozen in his seat as the plane bounced roughly in the air, tilted at what felt like a ninety degree angle. He couldn't speak; he couldn't breathe. She sent power into him, soothing this time: the gentle touch of a flower petal against his skin, and he exhaled roughly, shuddering. "You're afraid of heights," she said, raising a brow.

"The sky belongs to my brother," he answered. Truthfully, he had hated flying since his first deployment. He had been in helicopters, planes, and the horrible, tilt-rotor osprey monstrosities—and he hated each and every one. And he especially hated turbulence.

"Not at the moment, it doesn't," Persephone said, smoothing back his hair. She touched his neck, sending that same power through him, that same soothing brush of a soft flower petal against his skin, and his pounding heart settled down. He leaned his head on her shoulder once more.

"I love you," he breathed. The passenger in the window seat next to her laughed.

"Sleep, Aidoneus," Persephone told him. "I know you're tired."

Hades nodded. He was tired; he hadn't slept—truly slept—more than an hour in over two days. God or not, exhaustion was eating away at him. He shut his eyes, and even as the plane flew over rolling hills of air, he began to lose consciousness. Where was he? He wasn't sure. He supposed it didn't matter. He was finally getting some rest.