Who: Nick, and a friend (Helen cameo) What: Late night fears Where: The house When: Around midnight Warnings: None, some language.
With a gasp, Nick sat straight up in bed, looking around wildly. Something had scared him right out of a dreamless sleep. The hair was standing straight up on the back of his neck and arms from the force of it. What...
He jumped again when the thunder cracked over his house. Oh, storm. The rain was pitter-pattering on the roof, and he could see the lightning flashing out his window. Was the dog inside? A glance to the bottom of the bed said yes. Helen crying? He waited silently for her sounds, but heard nothing. So it was just him who was scared by the rain, apparently.
Grumbling a bit, he got out of bed, reaching for the nearest pair of boxers to slide on. He'd never slept nude until he'd run into Melpomene. Maybe her habits were viral.
At the thought of Mel, his chest hurt a bit, and he glanced over at the note on his dresser where it still lay unfolded.
"I've been hit with wanderlust and the need to be Melpomene, [Tragedy Muse]. Take care of Helen. I'll be back when I can."
And she had been gone before he even woke up. Part of him understood. That was who she was, not a normal person; her needs went deeper than just some random boredom to be satisfied. But another part of him was stung. She hadn't even bothered to wake him up? Let him know, at least, even five seconds before she left? Instead he'd woken up to an empty bed and a cold note. He'd sent her a few messages, just asking if she was okay. Her few replies had been short, and blank of any information of what she was doing or how she was.
He sighed and tried not to worry. She was immortal. She'd be... fine. Yeah. Raking a hand through his hair, he went downstairs to get himself something to drink.
The house was almost completely dark, except for the flashes of lightning occasionally bursting through the windows. It reflected off of everything, casting normal household objects in a creepy light. He shivered, wishing he'd had the good sense to put on a housecoat first, and opened up the fridge door to pull out some milk after getting out a glass. Warm milk was good for sleeping, right?
He closed the door. And there was a man standing there.
Letting out a startled yell, Nick dropped the jug of milk. It hit the ceramic floor with a hard thud, spilling it everywhere. Strangely enough, it didn't go around the man's feet, it simply flowed through it. The man in the robes and armor simply strode forward each step that Nick had taken backwards.
He didn't seem right, Nick's mind registered. Young but old, but in such mismatched ways. Like he was supposed to be perfect forever, but something happened to him, he mused silently.
"[More than a few 'somethings',]" the stranger grumbled in a bitter but handsome voice. Something in his voice was familiar. But not in a good way. When the lightning flashed again, Nick could see clearly, the gleaming white shoulder where the man's skin should be, and he realized who this was.
"Crazy. I'm going fucking nuts," he whispered quietly to himself. Or to Pelops? But was that like talking to himself?
"[Old news, little boy.]" A smile smeared it's way across the man's otherwise beautiful face like an oil spill. "[She's gone.]"
"Who?"
"[Do not play dumb with me, for you are the one who is a fool!]" The man stalked further forward, through the milk without disturbing a drop. "[The goddess, the one who says she loves you so. Left without even a goodbye kiss. Whoever claimed the muses were romantic.]"
"Not Mel's style," Nick grumbled, glowering at the king who'd gotten him into... well, everything. "She'll be back."
"[How do you know?]" asked Pelops curtly. He sounded impatient, like a cross teacher with a stupid student.
"She said she would. Mel doesn't just say shit she doesn't mean to be cruel."
"[Or she didn't want to bother with arguing with you when you tried to get her to stay with you. Poor, needy boy.]" The dead king moved around his younger reincarnation, like a lion around a gazelle. Nick didn't bother turning to face him. It was what he probably wanted.
"[If only for your attention,]" Pelops said with a laugh that made Nick's flesh rise with goosebumps. He came to a stop again at Nick's front, staring him down with all too familiar eyes. Partly because they were his own. But partly because the way they focused on him with such predatory intent hidden behind a semblance of caring was all too haunting of the sea king. "[She's gone. What's that song nowadays, you're fond of it. Another bites the dust...]"
"Mel wouldn't do that. Not to me, especially not to Helen," Nick argued back too quickly, and he knew how overly defensive he sounded. Pelops raised an unbelieving eyebrow.
"[Has she called you?]"
"I've called her, she--"
"[Told you where she is?]"
"No, but--"
"[Or what she's doing? Why? How? Asked about how you are, how the baby you created together out of... what was that you called it again... 'love'?]"
"Get to the fucking point!" Nick growled.
"[She doesn't want you to know where she is. Why such secrecy if she intends to return. She doesn't care, Nicodemus Aiolos. You stepped outside of what she wanted, with the baptism. Hasn't she been distant to you since then? Hardly a smile, hardly a word. Ran away from her own daughter's birthday party to get away from you. Gods don't like it when you think for yourself. You are merely another stepping stone in her long long path. She stepped on you for a time, and now she has moved to another. She's used you. She's leaving you. Just like Poseidon. Just like Zeus. Just like my father. And yours.]"
"SHUT. UP." Grabbing the cup from the counter in a rage, Nick hurled it. It went right through Pelops' grinning, smug face, and crashed into the wall hard enough that he felt some of the glass shards strike against him.
The dead king laughed. But as mocking as it sounded, Nick could hear a bit of mourning and anger in it. "[I tried to warn you. But I guess we are truly each other, aren't we. Do not repeat my sins, boy, you have done much to repent them but not enough. Do not.]" And he faded, leaving Nick alone.
He stood for a second, trembling with mixed fear and hate. Oh, God, help him. He was going mad. But he was wrong. He was. Melpomene was not Poseidon, not Zeus, not Hades, and never would be. He closed his eyes to remember that, holding onto the thought like a prayer. It didn't help much, and he was still shaking when he heard the beginning of a sob from upstairs. Helen.
Carefully, to avoid the glass, he went up the steps and into her nursery. She was standing up in her crip, hands gripping the edge of her crip tightly. Another burst of thunder, and another wail from the toddler.
"Shh, shh, shh..." Shamefully, he was glad it was the storm that woke her up and not his screaming at dead people. Helen sniffled and sobbed as he picked her up and out of the crip, clinging to his chest fiercely. He winced a bit; she still had the wickedly sharp baby nails. Who's idea was that, anyway? Good grief...
"M-M-Mamaaa..." She called, unsatisfied with just having Dad. This was too scary for just one parent to handle, apparently.
The fear in her voice echoed his own. Tears welled up in his eyes but he quickly blinked them back, sitting down against the wall and clutching her tight. "{It's okay, my little princess. It'll be all right. She'll be home soon...}"
Helen sniffled, but seem unconvinced. And he couldn't blame her.
He sighed and kept his cuddle firm, not letting her see his face. He didn't want his daughter to see Daddy was scared, too.
Summary: Nick's left alone in the house, and the other occupant isn't too pleased with it.