A/N: Wowza! It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm so sorry but university and consistently maintaining Dean's Lister status while being active in a plethora of extracurricular activities is rather tiring and time consuming! But don't think I forgot about this! I still have the outline and I don't forget my plotlines. I'll try to update regularly but if ever I forget, bug me on my tumblr and make me finish my stories! Hee. :3 .com

I'm glad you like the story. Please don't be shy and give me some comments or suggestions!

CHAPTER FOUR: HOME

He floated.

He floated for what felt like hours on end. The water, although contained no magical properties, seemed to be soaking up all of the pain away from his muscles and skin. He had never felt so calm and peaceful before. He had been running all of his life and it's done nothing except make him stressed, tired and paranoid. His mother was insane and he ran away from her, the camp disappointed him and he wanted to make a name for himself so he ran away from them as well; but, when he really wanted to run away from all of the bad things he had done for Kronos, he couldn't. All the times he should have run away, he didn't and couldn't. But as he floated in the water, there was a warmth streaming its way to where he lay, he was at peace. He didn't want to run.

He just wanted to float there and stare at the white ceiling, encrusted with precious jewels and various plants with beautiful blooms that hung from the ceiling in cracks with no beginning.

Moments passed, the skin on his hands and fingers had crumpled and he decided to stand. He got up from the water and dried himself with the towel that was provided nearby. There were also undergarments, drawstring pants and a shirt that were all cotton and were all white. He put them on and they were comfortably loose around him. A tall mirror was attached to the wall where the clothes were hung and he took a moment to take in what he looked like.

There was a huge difference in his appearance from when he first looked in the mirror. Luke expected himself to be covered in bruises or battle scars but he found that he was perfect. He didn't think that he was perfect in a narcissistic sense but perfect in a way that he was unharmed, like he hadn't just fought and lost a war while being controlled by an evil Titan, like he hadn't just been judged in the Underworld, like he hadn't been tortured for what seemed like forever. His golden hair was longer than it was but not long enough to bother him, his blue eyes stared back at him – no longer bloodshot, just the regular blue. He stared at his reflection for the longest time. He was fine, he was perfect… but there was something wrong, something amiss. And that's when he saw it. He was perfect and unblemished.

The scar across his face was gone.

He didn't know why he didn't notice it for so long. He wasn't used to having such a clean face for he had had that scar for a long time and he was unaccustomed to seeing himself without it. He touched his face to feel his scar-less skin and was baffled at what was going on. What was happening to him? What happened to him? What was going on? The pain from his body had completely subsided and every evidence of injury he had ever had had been wiped away from his entire body, as if he never had them. He stroked his face absentmindedly and then ran his fingers through his hair. He was confused and he had questions. And there was only one person he thought could answer them.

He left the room and saw that the bed he had slept in was completely made. The pillows were fluffed the blanket was laid out – inviting him. He rubbed the nape of his neck and looked around curiously. He had never really seen the interior of the cave before. He had only been looking at her. What was her name again? Callisto? No. Calypso? Yes. Her image popped came into his head and he knew it was her. Where was she? She wasn't inside the cave and the cave wasn't exactly that large for there to be many rooms. What had she said before leaving him to float in the water?

"Where are you going?"

"My garden. It needs attending to."

Her garden. Right. He looked for his sword which hung by the headboard of the bed in which he slept in. He took it in his hand and the blade felt home in his hands. He ventured out of the cave slowly - his sword at hand, his steps: silent and wary. He was on the defence, still not keen on letting his guard down even if the island was the most tranquil place he had ever known.

He stepped out of the cave and looked around. He saw nothing but the greenery, the blooms and the sea. No sign of Calypso. He lowered in hands a bit in confusion until he heard a soft sound from behind. Instinctually, he turned at a mercurial speed and threw whatever it was behind him against a wall and the sword dangling dangerously close at its throat. Of course, it was Calypso.

Her breath hitched and he saw her swallow. Her big brown eyes widened as she stared deep into his eyes, her hands at her sides with no intent to defend herself. He had not moved, his hand still on her shoulder – pining her to the wall of the cave, the other hand holding on to the sword mere inches away from her throat. He took a few shallow breaths and neither of them moved for a while. They just stared at each other.

A moment passed and she averted her gaze from him and looked at the sword then back at him. She lifted her hand and pushed the blade away with her dainty fingers. He lowered his arms and put them at his side. He wanted to apologize but he couldn't find the words. Or he had forgotten how to apologize. She looked into his eyes again and he didn't look away. Her lips parted and her fingers reached up to touch his face. There was a certain electricity, a certain warmth to her touch. He felt her palm against his cheek and she stroked his face with her little thumb. She was so warm and so soft. She was careful and each stroke felt wonderful, as if she were massaging his face. He felt as if he was petrified. He couldn't move and he didn't want to. His breath caught in his throat and she just touched his face – the side of his face that was scarred before.

"You are well now." She didn't mean it as a question and it didn't seem like she was talking to him. She was simply stating a fact. He saw her face grow red and she lowered her hand. She reached out to his hand that was carrying the sword and put her hand on top of his. "Please do not do that again. You are in my home and in my care. It would show proper gratitude if you were not to try and decapitate your hostess."

He griped the handle and he thought he murmured an apology. "Kindly put it away," she ordered but not authoritatively. It wasn't a question but it wasn't a request, either. He went back inside the cave and put his sword back where he found it. He walked back outside the cave but saw that she was no longer there. Everything was silent albeit for the soothing splashes the waves made against the rocks. The sky was a perfect shade of blue but there was no sun to say on what time of day it was. He walked around, his feet feeling the warmth and softness of the soil beneath him. He was amidst a sea of flowers of different kinds and everything he saw was beautiful; including the girl on the far end, admiring the flowers just as he was.

She was just as lovely as he had remembered her. Her hair was no longer in a full braid but there were two small braids at either side of her face and the two braids wrapped around her hand and joined at the back to make one thin braid. The rest of her long, wavy, dark brown hair fluttered all the way down to her waist. There were small flowers adorning her hair but whether she put them there or she didn't, he did not know nor care. Her white dress that reached up to her knee, along with her hair danced as the wind carried it. She looked as lovely as a dream and when she looked at him, she smiled. He saw a certain sadness in her brown eyes but she smiled despite it. He walked towards her and looked to the scene she was seeing. The abundance of flowers in such a small space really was breathtaking. It made it seem like the little island was larger than it was.

"Did you plant all these?" he asked without looking at her. She breathed a small sound which he took as a yes. "With no help at all?"

"Sometimes, a visitor would help with the garden but then they would leave and I would need to finish what they started."

"I can't imagine leaving such a place." And with his words, he heard her chuckle. It wasn't a light chuckle but there was a certain sour note to it. "Can I help you with your garden?"

He looked at her then and she closed her eyes and smiled, turning her head away. "You certainly can but you may not." He gave a short laugh and ran his fingers through his hair. "May I, then?"

She waved her hand and tilted her head to the side to gesture to her garden. She said nothing but her smile said it all.

He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing or why he was doing anything at all. She had been so good to him, so kind and so lovely. When she looked at him, it was as though she saw him and only him. She cared for no one else and wanted nothing from him. She only wanted him to be well. She took care of him, sheltered him, fed him, put up with him, as no one had cared for him like she had. He felt like he needed to repay her for her kindness somehow and since she looked like she was attached to her garden, it was the only way. He was careful not to tread on anything and he found himself inside a small clearing of bright green grass. She followed after him and he could feel her watching him. He wanted to help, he did. But he didn't have the slightest idea how. He was a son of the god of thieves, not gardeners.

He sat down near some bright yellow blooms and looked at it intently. He just stared at the flower, uncertain of what to do. She found her way next to him, kneeling down and took a single bloom in her hand. Her head bend over to inhale its scent and her hair fell to her face. She knelt back up and looked at him. She pushed her hair behind her ear and smiled at him.

"It helps if you talk to them."

"Talk? To flowers?" She nodded once and a corner of her lips curved. He looked back at the flowers and raised his eyebrows. He thought himself insane for even considering it. I must be out of my mind he thought, as he bent over and took a bloom in his hand.

"You're lucky you have someone so lovely to look after you," he whispered and he smiled despite himself. He turned his head and he saw her ducking her head, but he knew she was smiling. He knew because he meant what he said and he knew that it was just the sort of thing someone like her would smile at.

"Thank you," she said without looking up. He backed away and sat next to her for a while. She lifted her head and looked at him for a while and then looked away. He laid down on the grass and closed his eyes, breathing in the fresh clean air mixed with the intoxicating aroma of the flowers around him. He heard her shift her weight and he opened his eyes to see her laying down beside him. Her hands were at her sides and they were almost touching his. Almost. He didn't know what it was in him but his fingers twitched and touched her only for a second. Then she moved her hand away completely and she pressed both of her hands to her chest.

She turned her body to face him and he did the same. They stared at each other for a long second, taking each other in. He didn't know why but he wanted to touch her face, just to see if she was real and not just some good dream. And he did. He was wary, slow and careful. He did not want her to move away again but she made no move and just looked into his eyes. His fingers brushed her cheek and soon he was stroking her face just as she was only moments ago. How long has it been since then? Minutes? Hours? He did not know nor did he care.

Every pain he had ever felt melted away. His heart swelled and everything was just warm and peaceful. Everything was right, especially when he touched her. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. She opened her eyes then and looked down. Her eyes were gleaming, as if she was about to cry. He pulled his hand back, afraid that he had offended her when that was not his intention. He had no intention of harming her ever again.

"Are you alri-" She cut him off by sitting back up and looking at the distance of her garden.

"Do you feel well enough? Are you fully healed?" she asked, not looking at him, her tone monotonous. He sat back up and looked at her, confused.

"Yeah. I'm fine now. Did I do something… ?" She didn't answer and remained quiet for a long time until she finally stood u. She crossed and rubbed her arms as if she were cold but the breezes were comfortably warm.

"You should be ready to go soon." Another fact that she said to no one in particular.

"Go where?"

"Go home."