The Oracle kept telling himself he wasn't quite sure where he was headed. Though, in the back of his mind, he knew that this was where he would end up as he spent most of his evening slowly wandering up and down the streets of New Olympia. He had been so very careful to avoid this entire street from the moment he saw the newly posted street sign so many years ago. Yet, as though it was yesterday he knew exactly when to stop without lifting his eyes from the pavement (and in the strange and twisted reality he was living in, he truly had done this yesterday, but not his current yesterday). He glanced up at the old, familiar building and felt a smile creep across his face, happy to finally see it again. Home.

The Brownstone.

Gently, he placed a hand on the cement rail that followed the steps up to the door he had passed through with his friends so many times he could never count them all if he tried. It was amazing how many memories a few slabs of concrete could hold. All the arguments, the waitings, all the times he held that amazing redhead's hand up and down these steps. The packages, the visitors, the days spent watching traffic go by because some other couple was busy occupying the rooftop. He never realized just how much he missed this place.

"I'm not going in." He spoke to the figure that had silently walked up beside him. "Just saying my goodbyes, Hera."

Smiling, the old woman folded down her hood, her identity revealed before she even had the chance to speak.

"I just had to stop by. One last time."

Hera nodded, but said nothing.

"It worked, didn't it? The plan? Cronus is back in Tartarus? The world is saved? It's all over?"

"Yes, yes it is. Odie's invention worked and created the fake image of Cronus's intended portal, and instead sent him to Tartarus when he stepped through." The goddess's voice was quiet, stern. "But something happened. Somehow, Jay stepped through the actual portal before Odie could replace the destination. Instead of Tartarus, where he would be let out before Cronus came through, Jay ended up somewhere in time. The world is safe once more, but the young heroes aren't celebrating. They're grieving. They all blame themselves."

It was his turn to be silent and nod. In all his years he never thought about this, about the time after it happened; about the sadness and the grieving. He was always caught up in being stuck in the past and trying to figure out the way to his proper present day. Now that he was here, he wasn't sure what to do now. Nothing was set in stone anymore. Nothing could be predicted anymore. He wasn't the Oracle anymore.

He felt a hand take hold of his where it rested on the cement. Hera was smiling now, her grey eyes warm and comforting, a sight he so very rarely saw from his mentor. "I can help you, Jay."

It had been so long since anyone called him that the name almost sounded foreign.

"I can't give you any more time, but I can help you enjoy whatever you have left."

"Why?"

"Because you're a hero. You deserve to enjoy your success with those who fought by your side. And because I'm a god. I'm allowed to bestow such gifts upon mortals as reward for their actions."

Before he could protest, though he had no desire to, he felt a strange surge wash over him. Starting from where Hera lay her hand and flowing across his body, down to his feet, up through his head. It was a feeling as if layers of himself were being stripped away one by one. Joints no longer ached and he could feel the strength to hold himself straighter, taller. There was a breeze through hair that he had long forgotten about. Within a few blinks, his vision became grossly distorted and he removed his glasses, no longer needing them.

"How long have you known?" He barely finished his question for the voice he heard was so young and strange coming from his lips.

Hera flipped her hood back up over her head. "The gods have been around New Olympia for a long time, Jay. Even before New Olympia was New Olympia. As I recall, there used to be a nice little diner not far from here…"

Jay absentmindedly brushed a hand through his hair, closing his eyes and remembering that little diner from fifty years past. When his eyes opened, Hera was gone.

From behind him, at the other end of the street, he heard a familiar girl cry out his name.

And then the footsteps of six people running towards him.