"Sometimes in life all you need is that second chance.
That's the one thing you're not going to have."
- Bob Fraser Sr. "Victoria's Secret", due South.
 

Prologue

"The village was sacked and leveled a couple weeks ago by the Athenian army, so it'll be clear for us to march through. We should reach...." The warlord continued to drone on, laying out his plans confidently, apparently unaware that the two gods before him weren't really listening.

Seated on the dais, leaning against the side of the throne the God of War occupied, Strife looked on listlessly. He'd been there for hours, watching the steady stream of worshippers come to praise Ares and beg favors, and the occasional warlord such as this one, wanting to report their progress, hoping to please their god. Normally it all would've been fun, seeing who got on Ares' nerves, who got killed, who gained his favor; but not now. None of that interested Strife anymore.

His fingers strayed unconsciously to the hilt of the dagger he kept sheathed in his wristguard, running over the intricate scrollwork, a habit he'd picked up over the past few days. It reminded him of what he'd had -- and how much he'd lost. He couldn't think about much of anything else now, except the question of just where he'd screwed up.

He didn't get it. Where did he go wrong? He'd treated Autolycus better than any other mortal, paid attention to him, tried to protect him, screwed him more than any of his other lovers, hell, he'd even talked with him a couple times -- Autolycus just didn't understand. He should've been grateful! He got more than most mortals ever did from a god. Fuck, Strife even loved him! So what happened? Somewhere along the line something went really wrong and Strife couldn't figure out what.

A light touch on his head distracted him for a moment, but he quickly recognized it as his uncle's hand and went back to his thoughts.

Despite their sometimes violent relationship, he knew Ares cared, normally though Ares wouldn't show it. But more than once these past few days Strife had caught Ares watching him with a concerned expression. Of course he quickly hid it behind his usual sardonic mask, but he obviously knew something was very wrong. He wouldn't ask though. Things weren't that open between them. Strife would have to volunteer the information and that he couldn't do. What would he say?

"Yo, Unc. I had a major fall-out with Auto. You know, the guy who humiliated you and Discord and helped destroy the piece of the Chronos Stone you needed? Anyway, I was banging him behind your back for months and I fell in love with him and now he's not talking to me and I'm real miserable. Will you help me?"

Yeah. Right.

Sure, after Autolycus left him, Strife managed to pull himself together enough to get back to the Halls of War and help Ares put Discord in her place. That bitch was off repairing the Halls by herself as punishment and Strife was one of Ares' favorite gods right now, but he knew better than to do something stupid like revealing his feelings for Autolycus.

If Ares found out who he'd been seeing these past few months, Strife had no doubt Ares would toss him into that pit with Hera and then kill Autolycus. Strife didn't much care what happened to him personally right now, but he wouldn't let Autolycus be harmed. Regardless of how Autolycus felt, Strife still loved him -- and it hurt more than he ever thought possible.

He tried not to let that interfere with his job. Pushing it as far back in his mind as he could, he did whatever Ares told him to. Never questioning or offering an opinion as he normally would, he just obeyed, hoping the work would distract him, make the pain go away. But it never did, and he found himself right back where he'd started.

When he was seeing Autolycus things were totally incredible. Autolycus kept him in the greatest mood. Even when he screwed up in his job, having Ares kick the shit out of him hadn't really brought him down. He just thought about how good it would be the next time he saw his mortal and that got him through it all.

But now Strife didn't have anything -- nothing and no one to look forward to. Just this big fucking void suddenly ripped open in his life and nothing he did could fill it.

And Ares.... He'd hoped, he really had, that hanging with the God of War would help. Whenever Strife had a problem in the past, Ares was there to take care of it for him. Maybe Ares yelled at him a bit for being too stupid to solve things himself, and maybe he smacked Strife around as punishment, but he still fixed things up in the end, made it all like it was supposed to be. But there was nothing Ares could do now, nothing anyone could do, except Strife himself. And he didn't even know where to start.

The touch on his head changed. Fingers began lightly stroking, smoothing down the wild spikes he kept his hair styled in. Strife let his eyes close, leaning into the comforting touch. The knowledge that Ares cared about him couldn't erase the pain he felt, but these days it was the only thing keeping him from doing something really stupid.

But in the end even that wasn't enough to help him. It just reminded him of what he lost and he couldn't take it.

Pulling away abruptly, Strife got to his feet, the movement fast enough to startle the still babbling warlord into silence. Ares looked surprised but Strife didn't dare explain his actions. For a few long moments he just stood there, watching Ares, seeing the slight confusion and worry openly displayed on his face.

He didn't get why Ares would show that much, he wasn't one for putting his emotions on display. But then Strife noticed the stinging sensation in his eyes. Blinking back the tears, Strife quickly reined in his emotions. He hadn't cried in centuries and no way would he start again now. Things were bad enough without him looking like an emotional weakling in front of the God of War.

"Gotta go," he said quietly. Not waiting for a reply, he focused on the first place that came to mind and took himself there.

-------

Lying sprawled out on one of the plush, white divans that decorated Cupid's home, Strife looked around at the pastels, murals and gaudy furniture that surrounded him. The heavy scent of some sickeningly sweet perfume filled the air and faintly, if he listened hard, he could hear lyres playing some sappy love song. The whole thing came off like a fucking high-priced whorehouse. But Cupid thought it was romantic. Whatever.

Cupid stood some distance away, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back against the wall, watching his guest, face remaining expressionless as it had since Strife first showed up. In fact he hadn't said a word. He just stayed there, listening as his cousin talked.

Strife supposed he knew why he'd thought of here first -- even if he would've preferred not to admit it to himself. But he probably should've done this days ago.

Cupid knew everything. Not because Strife wanted him to, but because it'd been impossible to spend any time at all around him without Cupid figuring things out. Sure, once Strife realized he was in love he'd avoided Cupid, but it was already too late by then. Cupid knew before he did.

When Cupid confronted him about it, Strife didn't bother denying anything. Unlike his mother, Aphrodite, Cupid didn't gossip. In fact, he kept secrets better than most gods, so Strife didn't have too much of a problem telling him about Autolycus. Actually, he'd sort of jumped at the chance to tell someone. At the time, he'd been so happy and finally having the chance to talk about it without worrying about Autolycus' safety really made things perfect.

He'd spent hours in Cupid's home lying right here going on and on about Autolycus. Cupid hadn't said much unless Strife asked him a direct question, mostly he had just listened the way he did now. That had been good enough before, but now Strife needed more. If anyone could give him some decent advice on this problem it had to be the God of Love.

Telling what happened that last time between him and Autolycus only took a few minutes, but Strife had to give his opinions on the whole thing and that took a lot longer. It all had him so confused and hurt and, he finally had to admit, a little angry.

"It doesn't make any sense, you know?" he said in irritation. "I gave him everything! I stopped killing people for him, I tried to keep him outta the stuff I do for Ares, there's no way he could complain about the fucking -- that was beyond awesome! I mean, I even love him and he has the balls to tell me I don't? To just walk out on me? Where's he get off?"

"You don't know what love is."

"Huh?" Strife frowned at his cousin, surprised that he'd actually spoken.

"You heard me." Cupid's face was no longer expressionless, but Strife couldn't tell what exactly he saw there.

"I don't get it."

"No shit. You 'don't get' much of anything here," Cupid said, his voice quiet but with a definite undercurrent of...anger. That's what that it was. Strife couldn't remember the last time he'd seen that emotion on Cupid, but he really didn't think he wanted to now.

"What d'you mean?" he asked cautiously as he sat up, not sure what to make of Cupid in this mood.

"What's love mean to you, Strife?"

Okay, that came out of nowhere. Strife didn't know quite how to respond. "Um...well, I guess it's really wanting someone, always wanting them with you and stuff like that." He shrugged, unable to describe it any better.

"That's possession, but you don't know the difference, do you?" Cupid's voice was still quiet, but the anger seemed much more apparent now.

"Yeah I do," Strife protested. "I don't wanna own him or nothing."

"Really? Tell me something then: how many times did you go to see Autolycus for anything besides sex? You know, just to be with him. Hang together, talk about stuff, get to know him better, that kinda thing. You two do that a lot?"

He had to shake his head. "Only once, I think. But we never had a whole lot of time," he quickly added. "We're both real busy."

"Yeah? Well how many times did he try to do that with you, huh? Try to get you to stick around and talk, have dinner with him or something?"

Strife frowned again as he remembered Autolycus doing just that. Wanting to really talk with him, having dinner waiting for them, and Strife blew it all off. He figured it didn't matter. But maybe he'd been wrong.

"Yeah, Strife, I'd say you don't get it." Cupid shook his head and pushed away from the wall, starting to walk out of the room.

"Hey, wait a sec!"

"What?" Cupid sighed, stopping but not turning to face him.

"I thought you were gonna help me!" Strife said in annoyance as he stood up. "I mean, you're the God of Love here, so--"

"So what?" Cupid suddenly turned on him, anger now blatantly obvious in his expression. "What'd you expect, Strife? You thought you'd come here, whine a little and I'd just make it all right again or something? Well it doesn't work that way! You screwed it up, get it? The only mistake Autolycus made was sticking with you that long!"

Strife didn't reply. He couldn't. He could only stand there and stare in shock as Cupid stepped closer to him, his voice lowering.

"Everything he said was right. You don't have a clue what love is about," Cupid continued coldly. "All you know how is how to possess something. Every time you came here and talked about him, you made him sound like an object, something you owned. He wasn't anything more to you than a fancy toy you took out, played with then put aside 'till you got bored enough to notice him again. That's all mortals are to you, Strife. You don't respect them or take them seriously, and until you do, you deserve everything you get."

Stunned, Strife swallowed hard, trying to get his voice to work, wanting to say something in his own defense, but nothing came out.

Suddenly it was all too much. First Autolycus turned against him and now his own cousin too. The one person he thought would understand was standing there telling him off. No way. He wouldn't stay here and listen to this crap.

"You're crazy," he accused, finally forcing the words out although his voice trembled. "You don't know what you're talking about!" He stepped back from Cupid, anger swiftly overtaking him. "I'm outta here, got it? And if you talk to me like that again I'm gonna rip off those wings of yours and shove 'em down your fucking throat!" Realizing he was yelling, he shut up.

Cupid didn't look like he was about to take back anything he said. In fact he looked just as furious as his cousin. Yeah, the God of Love sure got his daddy's temper. Strife knew then that if one of them didn't leave he'd carry through on his threat and he really didn't want to explain to Ares why his son was coughing up feathers.

"Fuck off," he snarled, then transported himself to the only other place he could think of. Ares couldn't help, Cupid just made it worse, so maybe this would do it. The mortals here knew their place; they'd treat him like he deserved. He'd just relax and think it all out. Everything would be okay then. It had to be.
 

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TBC