Okay guys, I am soo sorry for leaving you with that cliff-hanger. It wasn't my intention to wait this long before posting again, but I just started school and it's been a little crazy for the past few weeks. So here it is!
Just a note, remember that time on Olympus passes differently than time on earth. Sometimes it's faster, sometimes slower. So that will affect this next chapter a little.
He materialized in an alley by her apartment. Walking into the lobby, he made for the elevator. Before he could, he was stopped by the apologetic doorman.
"Sir, she asked me not to let you up."
Hermes felt like he'd been punched in the stomach.
"But I have to talk to her. I made a huge mistake and I need to explain it."
The doorman shrugged. "Sorry sir, but she told me not to let you up. I'll get into trouble if I do."
"I really do need to talk to her. Look, if she forgives me, then you'll be off the hook. But if she doesn't, I'll say I sneaked past you, okay?"
The doorman looked uncomfortable, but nodded reluctantly. "Fine." He turned away. "I didn't see you, I'm not seeing you," he chanted as Harry snuck past him into the elevator. As the doors closed, the doorman said, "I hope she forgives you. Last week she looked so happy before you came."
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair as the elevator ascended. How could everything be so wrong and so right at the same time?
When the doors opened at the fourth floor, he stepped out. Standing in front of her door, he mustered up the courage to knock. He heard the tap of footsteps and then a short silence, presumably her looking out of the peephole.
"Go away!" Her voice permeated the door and he felt, for the second time in minutes, like he'd been punched.
"Lucy, please, I need to talk to you."
"Talk to me? You need to talk to me? You should have done that before you disappeared, literally disappeared before my eyes!"
"That's what I need to talk to you about! Lucy, please-"
"Oh-ho no. Don't 'Lucy please' me! I don't want to see your face again!"
"If you don't let me in, I'll just start explaining here in the hallway. Do you really want everyone on your floor to hear what I have to say?"
There was no response to his question, so he continued. "Lucy, when I met you, I thought you were the strangest person I'd ever met." That statement was met with a quiet scoff. "You were the most beautiful, but also the saddest girl I'd seen. I had no idea why you were crying, and I still don't. But I wanted to talk to you. You fascinated me, and the lunch we had did nothing to ease the interest I felt.
"After that, I did something really stupid; I left you. I regret it with all my heart, but it happened. I tried to make amends when I invited you to that dinner, and it was incredible. I thoroughly enjoyed that dinner, even though you refused to answer any of my questions.
"And then, on the walk home, Lucy, you read me so easily, more easily than anyone else I've known in my whole life. And you gave me the worst choice in the world. Choosing between two things that couldn't happen. Telling you who I am, and losing you. But I chose to tell you. Lucy, I went against everything my father forbid, because I couldn't live without you. I can't live without you. Please Lucy, at least open the door so I can explain everything. I promise, I won't lie, I won't disappear, I won't evade any of your questions. I'll tell the truth. Just the truth."
He lapsed into silence, and the seconds felt like years.
But the locks creaked, and the door slowly groaned open.
Lucy stood framed in the doorway, her hair falling messily around her shoulders. She was holding herself, seeming small and fragile looking up at him.
"I can't do this, Harry. You can't keep disappearing and expecting me to forgive you every time. I can't do this," she whispered, and his heart ached from her expression. In that moment, he would do anything, anything in the world to make it go away and never come back.
"Lucy, please, let me explain. I'll tell you anything and everything. Just give me one more chance."
She looked at him a second longer before opening the door farther and beckoning him in.
He stepped into her apartment for the first time.
They say a person's house tells you a lot about them. Lucy's apartment was small, but in everything there was a hint of Lucy. Pictures hung on every wall, and of everything imaginable. Drawings of classic architecture were next to photographs of Central Park and pictures of people. Books decorated every horizontal surface, and an iPod was gently playing classical music, Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, if he wasn't mistaken.
Lucy sank into a soft -looking sofa, and looked at him expectantly. He perched on an armchair.
He had no idea how to begin, but taking a deep breath, he tried.
"You know I'm not a normal person. I disappeared in front of you. But I don't know if you'll believe what I am."
"You promised you'd tell me everything, Harry. So it doesn't really matter if you're sure I'll believe you."
He nodded at her matter-a-fact statement, and continued.
Another deep breath. "I'm a god."
She snorted. "Think a little highly of yourself, hm?"
"No, I mean…ah, I should have started differently. You know those myths about Greek gods and goddesses?"
She nodded, now not sure where he was going.
"Well, those 'myths'? They're true."
Her expression was unreadable as she processed the information.
"You are unbelievable." Her eyes narrowed.
"What?" He wasn't sure what reaction he had expected out of her, but this was certainly not it.
"I can't believe you would actually expect me to believe that absurd lie!"
She stood, her fists clenched. He remained seated, his eyes widened at her response.
"Lucy, I'm not lying to you! I promised-"
"Ha, you promised." She rolled her eyes. "I can't believe I actually thought you would tell the truth."
"But Lucy-"
"Get out." Her voice was flat.
"Lu-"
"Now."
He stood, but didn't move otherwise. "What about the disappearing then? How else could I explain that?"
"Who knows? Maybe I'm going crazy. It would explain why I keep letting you in!"
He closed his eyes, trying to figure out how to convince her before she shut him out forever. His eyes snapped open.
He smiled mischievously, and she looked warily at him.
"What?"
Without answering, he walked slowly towards her. In one quick motion, he picked her up, bridal style, and stepped toward her small window.
"What are you doing?" Her voice raised in anxiety as he opened her window, balancing her in his arms with ease.
"I'm proving it to you."
In an act only a god could accomplish, he slipped through the window till he was standing on the tiny ledge outside.
"What the hell are you doing? Do you have a death wish?"
She clenched her eyes together and her fists tightened on his arm. Her whole body was rigid in his arms as he stepped off the ledge.
She felt a rush of cool air and his breathy laugh.
"It's okay. You can open your eyes."
She peeked out from under her eyelashes to see buildings and open sky. Looking down, there was no ground beneath Harry's feet. She tightened her grip on his arm.
"Oh my god," she breathed. She looked up to see his face, which, despite his carefree laugh, was watching her carefully, his eyes anxious.
"You weren't kidding, were you?"
He shook his head. "I told you I wouldn't lie."
She took a shaky breath.
"Okay, I believe you. Can we go back down now?"
He smiled, but his eyes were still anxious as they descended smoothly.
When they'd entered the apartment again, he set her down gently. She stumbled a bit, her grip on his arm loosening as she let go of him. His arms felt empty after holding her, but he let his hands drop to his sides. She sat heavily on the sofa, putting her elbows on her knees and rubbing her temples. He sat silently, just giving her the opportunity to digest everything.
After a few minutes, she lifted her head, resting her cheeks in her hands.
"You're Hermes." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact; she was sure of his name.
He blinked, startled she figured it out so fast. "How'd you know?"
She stood and walked into the hallway. Before he could think she'd left, she returned holding a framed picture. She turned the frame in her hands, displaying one of his statues. That particular statue, he had to admit, was one of the most authentic. It was very similar to how he actually looked, and he could see how she recognized it as him.
"I noticed that you looked a lot like this sculpture, but I just thought it was some weird coincidence. It makes more sense now," she explained, sitting down again and setting the picture on the table. "How?"
He cocked his head. "What do you mean?"
"How is this all possible?" She shook her head disbelievingly. "So the Greeks were right? All of that is…true?"
"For the most part." He nodded.
She sat back with a sigh, leaning her head against the back of the couch. "How did I get caught up in all this?"
His heart sank. "I can leave if you want…I won't bother you if you don't want me to."
Her eyes widened as he spoke. "No, no! That's not what I meant."
"I don't want you to leave," she added softly, looking away from him.
He smiled happily. "I'll stay as long as you want me to, Lucy."
Blushing, she still didn't look at him as she stood. "Do you want something to eat?" she asked as she walked into the kitchen. She paused a moment, turning back with a frown. "Do you eat regular food?"
He laughed, joyfully noting the ease with which she acknowledged his secret. "Yes, I can eat human food. I ate both times you saw me."
She grinned sheepishly, but something he said made her pause. "I saw you? So you saw me in other times?"
Damn, she was good. "Are you sure you're not studying to be a psychologist or something?"
She glared at his attempt at evading her question. He sighed.
"Yes, I saw you. But I couldn't talk. I was just checking up on you to make sure you were okay."
She raised an eyebrow. "Stalker…?" A corner of her mouth pulled up, letting him know that she was kidding with him.
"Are you gonna eat or insult me?" He adopted a hurt expression that didn't fool her for one second.
She grinned. "I was thinking some of both."
He sighed exaggeratedly. "Fine." He brightened. "I can make you something."
She looked at him warily. "You can cook?"
"What, don't think I can?"
"Well, somehow I feel like cooking dinner isn't something you do in your free time."
He waved it off dismissively. "I can cook like you wouldn't believe."
"Well, you certainly have proved that multiple times," she muttered, but she let him pass her into her small kitchen.
"What would you like to eat, Madame?" He assumed a French accent, pulling a wooden spoon out of a pitcher by the stove with a flourish.
She giggled, a rare sound. "What's the house special?"
Opening the fridge, he peered inside.
The stir fry was sizzling on the stove when Lucy asked her next question.
"Why did you say you worked for UPS?"
He looked over at her. She was sitting on the counter watching him cook.
"I figured it was fairly similar to what I actually do."
"Hm." She nodded absently, lapsing into silence.
After a few moments of quiet, he spoke. "What's on your mind?"
She sighed. "I just don't understand it."
"That's…understandable. It's a lot to process." He snuck a look at her; she was leaning her head against the cabinets.
"No, it's not that. I mean, I don't understand why you find me so…not boring." She wrinkled her nose.
He laughed and she glanced at him, surprised. He shook his head. "You keep saying that. I don't understand why you keep saying that. You think you're the most uninteresting person in the world, but you really aren't. For example, I still have no idea why you were crying in the park that day. I still maintain that people generally don't do that."
"They do when they get news like mine," she muttered.
His head jerked up to look at her. "What?"
She blushed. "Nothing."
"No, I heard you, Lucy. What did you say?" His voice was unusually intense, and she met his eyes.
"It was nothing."
He abandoned the stir fry, walking over and putting his hands on either side of her legs, leaning in so his face was inches away from hers. She pulled back slightly, her head pushing against the cabinets. A frown was creasing her brow.
"Tell me what happened, Lucy."
She shook her head stubbornly. "No."
"Lucy…"
She shut her eyes tightly, her hands gripping the counter edge until they turned white.
"Please don't make me think about it. Please." Her voice was small and contained a world of pain that he knew he couldn't imagine.
He inhaled sharply. Whatever had happened was something far worse than he'd thought, and he now wanted to know more than ever what had made her so vulnerable.
"Lucy."
She opened her eyes warily.
"I'm sorry." The two simple words were loaded with sympathy and warmth, and she was so unused to it that her eyes widened and her breath caught.
The whole scene abruptly changed; they were both suddenly aware of how close they were, their breathing, and the heat that all of a sudden seemed unbearable.
He couldn't look away from her, a thousand things running through his mind. A good amount of them were focused on things like the shape of her lips, the rosy color of her cheeks. But a part of him was thinking of what would happen if he did kiss her, and realizing that as much as he wanted to, and he was aching to, that it would be a decision he would regret. So as much as it literally pained him, he pushed off of the counter, returning to the abandoned stir fry.
He couldn't look at her, knowing that her expression would be something he could not manage.
"Can you grab two plates?"
Wordlessly, she handed him the plates. Scooping the food, he put the plates down.
"Lucy."
She avoided his gaze, pulling two forks out of a drawer.
"Lucy." He put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to look at him. She met his eyes reluctantly.
He rested his forehead on hers, not breaking their gaze. "I'm sorry, Lucy, but…we can't. Not now. Not yet. I'm sorry."
And again, the emotion packed into those two words was something she was so unaccustomed to; she pulled away.
Turning around, she gripped the counter.
"Harry, I-" She stopped mid-sentence.
"What's wrong?" His voice was anxious, wondering what could have happened.
She turned to face him again, her face inquisitive. "What should I call you?"
He looked at her, confused, for a moment before bursting into laughter. She was startled, and then, when she realized she was being laughed at, irritated. She crossed her arms and glared at him until he calmed down enough.
"Sorry, it's just…of all the things to say right now…" He had to admit to himself, he was relieved she'd focused on that instead of whatever she was about to say.
Her frown deepened. He sighed, still chuckling.
"You can call me whatever you want. Hermes is fine, or if you prefer Harry. I really don't care."
"You don't care what your name is?" She looked bothered. "There's a lot of meaning in one's name. You should care what your name is."
He frowned quizzically at her. "Why do you care so much, Lucy? It's just a name. I've had thousands of names in my life."
She bit her lip as she contemplated that, and he tore his eyes away to look at the forgotten dinner. "We should probably eat before all my hard work turns to ice."
They moved to the small table.
"Lucy…" He trailed off when she looked up at him. She was frowning, her eyes upset. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head, returning to her food.
"Lucy, what's wrong?"
She sighed, not looking up. "What happens when you have to leave again?"
It was only Lucy who could make him feel as if he'd been punched without moving a muscle.
"I will have to go, but I'll always come back. I'll come back until you don't want me to anymore, Lucy."
"What happens if you don't come back? What if it takes so long that…" she trailed off, unwilling to complete the idea, but he knew what she meant. She was a mortal. She would grow older, and eventually, leave the Earth. He shuddered internally.
"I will always come back, Lucy." His voice was firm and earnest, and it made her look up in surprise.
She shook her head. "I don't understand you."
"What do you mean?"
"You can be so…intense, I guess. Earnest." She struggled for the right word to describe his occasional serious mood swings.
"When it comes to you, I feel like I have to convince every part of you, like I have to extinguish every doubt you have for you to trust me. I have to be so 'intense' for you to actually believe me."
She blushed and looked down. "Sorry, but it's…hard for me."
"Trust?"
She nodded. "Some stuff that happened before…it's just hard for me to trust people. Sorry."
"You don't have to apologize to me, Lucy. But…" he hesitated a moment, remembering her previous reaction to his prying, "I would like to know, when you can, what happened."
She breathed in for a moment, looked up at him from under her eyelashes. "Okay. I'll tell you."
Oh geez, 'nother cliff-hanger. :) Sorry, but I can't help myself. It just begged to be put in there.
By the way, I'll post a picture of the sculpture I'm talking about on my profile later.