Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to update this! I have recently been inspired and hope to get it done before I graduate.

Days Later…

"I do not like them Andromache. Send them away."

The moment Paris saw the three men he felt a strong dislike for all of them. He refused to talk to them. House them. He even refused to guide them around our camp.

It was guilt.

Paris lived with the guilt of knowing he had contributed to his brothers death. He could not look at his nephew without seeing his brother. He could not look at Helen without hearing Hector in his head. When he looked at me he knew he caused my grief.

Paris rarely slept.

Rarely did he partake in pleasures of the flesh with Helen.

He tried to be Hector but…he did not have the strength.

Then to see a man who appeared near identical to Hector. It drove him to a fit of madness. He followed me every last step to the river. My son perched upon his hip, complaining, "Andromache! Do not ignore me! Make them leave, you found them, send them away."

I dipped my jar in the water and watched the water swirl into the pottery.

Paris was not the only person upset by the appearance of Norm-Hoot. People hid or welcomed him with hugs that obviously bothered the man. I suppose he was not accustomed to strangers embracing him.

"Andromache!"

I looked up into his brown sullen eyes, "Paris. Quite bothering me. Do you honestly believe that if I knew how to return them to wherever they came from I wouldn't? I wish them to leave as much as you."

I did not need a flesh and blood mirror image of my Hector around. The memories were enough to haunt me for eternity.

I lifted the heavy jar and set it on the riverbed.

My son reached for it. He loved water. He loved to splash and play.

Annoyed, Paris began to bounce him.

I wiped my wet hands on my neck in hopes to cool off. The sun was hot enough to bring my demise.

"I think you enjoy having this…man around!"

I did not answer that. If I did I would have said something I would have regretted. Instead, I took the other jar and set it in the river. It was best if I kept quiet. If I told him what I thought I would not stop, there were things I wanted to tell him.

Things I wished to scream at him.

I wished to hit him. There were times when I wished I could simply kill him. There were times I hated him.

"Andromache!"

I dropped the jar and looked into his eyes. I looked at him and he stepped back. He saw something in my eyes and decided he wanted no part of it. "Leave me be," I simply told him.

He listened.

Thank the Gods he listened.

He stepped back and walked up the beaten down trail that lead into the forest.

It was best he did so. He would not be able to stomach what I wished to tell him. It would likely drive him mad completely. I sighed and looked back to the jar. Seeing another reason why he left so quickly. The three men had returned from their exploration.

They had left before sunrise.

I wanted no part of them.

So I continued with my task. I lowered the jar into the knee-deep water and watched the clear liquid swirl in. A small river flowed into the clay pot and the name they called me was yelled out, "Andy!"

I heard them splash as they crossed the river.

Only when they were an arms length away did I look at them. To my surprise they appeared horrified. The youngest of the three, Matt, as they referred to him, looked as if he had swallowed the sun.

Norm-Hoot and Sanderson must have learned something very frightening.

Norm-Hoot raised a hand and his friend told me, "There's a wooden horse in the ruins of your old city!"

Yes, I knew that.

With a nod I sat the jar up, "Indeed."

"The Greeks used that to enter Troy," he added.

"Yes."

He struck Norm-Hoot with the back of his hand and sent him a look that Padme sent me when we had a something important to say, or one had proven a point.

Norm-Hoot then added, his voice unsteady, "There ain't no phone booths. No cars. No written on the walls. No concrete. Baby, there is no nothing!"

Baby? What did that mean?

I looked at him. The men were obviously shaken over what they had seen. "You went to Troy?"

Sanderson then asked me, "What God do you worship?"

Gods.

I had no faith in them.

I carried to full jar to the shore and set it down, "Once…I worshipped Apollo, the sun God. Not anymore."

Again, Sanderson swatted at Norm-Hoot with his hand, as if proving a point.

The young man appeared to look nauseous.

Norm-Hoot then asked, "So…Buddha, Muhammad, and Jesus ain't been born yet?"

Who?

My confusion bothered Sanderson further, "Tell me! Has Odysseus written his epics yet?"

Odysseus! That Greek filth! He could rot in Hades for all I cared. "Do not speak that name near me again," I spat. I hated the Greeks enough, I did not wish to hear their vile names.

Norm-Hoot paled. Then he told his friend, "I ain't never drinkin a'gin."

"I could use something about now," his friend countered with as he slowly sat down in the flowing river.

It was then the young one's eyes rolled into his head and he fainted, falling back into the river.