Note: Hey I am so so so sorry for the amount of time it took to update this. It was quite ridiculous, and I am completely at fault. Part of it was a lack of time and other issues, but at the same time I still could have probably updated sooner. So again, I am so sorry. And thanks to anyone who has stuck with me for this long. You are all amazing. I wanted to let you know that I've also uploaded these all to because has been going around deleting M rated fics and I didn't want to take any chances. Anyway, here's the next chapter.

"Passing stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you, You must be he I was seeking (it comes to me as of a dream) I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you." – Walt Whitman

Still 1989

"So what exactly was all that?" Steve finally voiced, throwing the damp towel he'd used on the bar onto the table.

"What exactly was what?" Hera repeated a little distractedly, glancing around the now empty club, still unsure why she hadn't left yet.

"You know, what I'm talking about," Steve continued, putting away chairs he passed on his way to her. "Elijah. And Dylan, Di, whatever his name is…"

"Oh, is that not normal behavior for him?" Hera said, finally giving Steve her attention, intrigued.

"Uh, no," came a bark of laughter in response. "Definitely not. If anything, it's incredibly bizarre…but you weren't surprised, were you?"

"No, actually," Hera paused, fidgeting with the cherry stem she'd tied to her straw. "I wasn't surprised in the slightest. I've gotten used to it over the years."

"Over the years," Steve craned his neck around double-checking what he'd heard. "So they did know each other?"

"No. No they didn't," Hera hastily said, snapping to attention.

She hadn't realized that she'd said that last bit out loud. She needed to be more careful or they were going to have another incident on their hands like back in 1692. And it wasn't going to be as easy to blow over as before.

"Then what did you-" he started before being cut off.

"I just meant, Di," she lied easily enough after all the practice. "He's very charismatic. These things tend to happen. That's all."

"Okay…" Steve puzzled, turning back around. "That being said, it's still quite surprising. Elijah's not the type to flirt with someone he knows, let alone a stranger. And he's certainly never left for the night with one before. Poor Bryan."

"Who?" Hera questioned curiously.

"Bryan," he said, not turning around. "Elijah's…boyfriend. His long-time boyfriend."

"Shit," a low whispered curse was heard from behind Steve, before a gust of wind struck him and a very loud and crisp popping noise reverberated through the room, immediately followed by the sound of a toppling chair hitting the ground and continuing to rock.

"What the—" Steve mouthed, turning completely around for the first time since the conversation started, to find a splintered chair on the ground, and Hera nowhere to be seen.

"Oh, ugh…oops," Elijah giggled as he stumbled through the doorway, Dylan's hands reaching out to steady him for the moment.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Dylan asked worried. "I really didn't think you were this drunk when we left."

"I'm fine," Elijah insisted. "I'm not drunk. Just a little fuzzy. I really don't drink that much."

"So this is where you live?" he continued, circling to survey the room as a whole. "It's nice. Very subtle. But distinct."

"Sure," Dylan silently laughed, not sure Elijah even knew what he was saying.

"Look, I know I said I wanted to talk to you tonight, but I don't think that's going to happen," he said, letting go of Elijah for a second to turn around and deadbolt the door. "I think you just need to go rest. I can put you up in Helen's room if that makes you more…comfort…able."

Dylan didn't get to quite finish what he was saying, because as he turned around Elijah was right in front of him with his shirt already off. He was leaning into him, trapping him on the door by bring his arms up to cage him in.

"You were saying?" Elijah asked amused, not giving him a chance to respond before closing the distance between them by pressing his body up against Dylan's and letting his mouth stray to the tendon on the side of Dylan's neck.

"We…" Dylan faltered through his attempt to keep things less heated. "We really shouldn't be doing this."

"Oh, but we should," Elijah said without stopping his slow descent down Dylan's body, thoroughly kissing each patch of skin he revealed as he unbuttoned Dylan's shirt.

Dylan gasped and jolted when Elijah blew hot air onto his navel, slightly damp from the open-mouthed kisses Elijah had been trailing along there. When Elijah continued further down, tonguing the skin right above his jeans, Dylan finally broke, groaning obscenely, and scrambling to hand onto the doorknob to keep from falling.

"I just…" Dylan started, waiting for Elijah to look up before continuing. "I want you to know, I wasn't expecting this. We didn't have to…"

"I know," Elijah interrupted, with a small smile. "That's why we are."

Dylan tried to surge forward and pull Elijah up to kiss him at that point, because how could he do anything else with that knowing look on his face. But Elijah stopped him, smirking up at the confusion now on Dylan's face.

"Uh, uh, uh," Elijah said mischievously. "I didn't make my way down here just to break you, you know."

"But—"

"No, buts," Elijah considered. "Unless, of course, it's yours turned around for my viewing pleasure."

Smiling, Elijah took advantage of Dylan's nervous spluttering to undo his pants and tug them down slightly.

"Not a kid, huh?" he paused, cocking his head to the side to stare at his underwear.

"Shut up," Dylan laughed. "Batman isn't just a kid's thing."

"If you say so," Elijah teased, running his finger along the edge of the briefs and leaning forward to mouth along the outline of Dylan's cock through the underwear and licking the wet spot now clearly visible, causing Dylan's head to snap back onto the door and groan in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

"If you can't even handle this," Elijah snorted, "How are you going to be able to handle things once the underwear comes off?"

"I don't really think the underwear should be coming off at all," a stern voice from behind said.

"Hera!" Dylan shouted in outrage, scrambling to pull his pants back up over his underwear. "What the hell do you think you're doing? I thought we agreed you'd be going back to Thena's tonight so Elijah and I could talk."

"You're sure doing a lot of talking," she said with one eyebrow raised, challenging Di with her eyes.

"Yeah, that's not the point," he said, not backing down, even with the inner urge to relinquish authority her stare was causing.

"My question," Elijah, now standing up, said slowly, choosing carefully what he said. "Is how in the world you are even here in the first place? You sure didn't come through that front door. We were kind of just up against it."

"It's a long story," she said avoiding the question. "It wouldn't be very interesting anyway."

"The hell it wouldn't be—" he started.

"Elijah," she said in an echoing tone that had an almost ethereal quality to it. "I think it's time for you to leave."

"No, Hera," Dylan said frantically. "What do you think you're doing?"

Meanwhile, Elijah was buttoning his shirt back up and gathering his things almost as if on autopilot. Dylan needed to do something fast or he would be out the door within seconds. And knowing Hera, he probably wouldn't even remember tonight's events at all. He couldn't afford that.

"Stop it, Hera!" he finally screamed, his voice cracking, making Hera flinch out of her trance and take in what was happening. Her hold on Elijah snapped almost immediately, and he looked around confused.

"When did you get here, Helen?" Elijah asked curiously.

"Why?" Dylan sobbed quietly. "Why, after all this time? I finally found—I finally got here. Why are you taking it away from me?"

"I'm sorry," Hera said in shock, more to herself than to them. "I don't know what happened. I just…I was angry. And I was trying to stop you. And the power just took over. I…that hasn't ever happened. Not since…before."

"What's going on?" Elijah finally asked, staring at both of them as if they had recently escaped a mental hospital.

"Nothing," Dylan said calm again, quickly trying to come up with a way to explain this, but Hera came to his rescue.

"I'm so sorry for barging in like this," she jumped back into the conversation. "I know it's not exactly proper etiquette. I couldn't not come though."

"Why?" Dylan asked, exasperated.

"Elijah knows," Hera looked pityingly over at him, making Elijah nervous.

"I honestly have no clue what she's talking about," he said, sure that he was right.

"Okay, fine, I'll be the bad guy. It's nothing new for me," she said, taking a deep breath. "You can't sleep with him. Elijah's not available. He has a boyfriend. One that, if I'm not mistaken, is probably waiting up for him right now, wondering where he is tonight."

"Bryan," Elijah whispered. "I—she's right."

"You're involved with someone," Dylan said, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice, "and you came here with me anyway?"

"I—yeah," Elijah faltered under the look Dylan was giving him, as if he didn't know him at all, which was absurd, because he didn't. "I guess I did."

"You forgot about him, didn't you?" Hera realized as she stared at the inner turmoil written all over his face.

"To be honest, I had," Elijah said in disgust. "That sounds so cold, but until you brought it up, I hadn't even thought about him. I—that's not me."

"I might be distant and reserved at all times. And I might not be in love with him. But I protect him," he said firmly. "Even from myself if that's what it takes. I swore I would never hurt him the way others had hurt me. And this is just not me. I'm not a cheater."

"We know," both Dylan and Hera slipped and said at the same time, looking over at each other.

"Wait, where are you going?" Dylan said surprised, following him to the door.

"I need to leave," Elijah said, as though it was obvious. "I don't know what just happened. I don't know what this is. What it means. Or will or whatever. Honestly, I don't know anything right now. But I do know that, regardless of all this, Bryan deserves better than this."

"You're right," Dylan acknowledged, very resigned. "I—okay let me show you out."

"I know the way," Elijah replied, amused. "It's just some stairs. I'll…I'll get in touch with you. Sometime. Soon."

"Yeah," Dylan whispered, sure that that was never going to happen.

"Goodbye," Elijah hesitated, taking one last curious look at Dylan's face before turning around and walking out the door, down the stairs, and out of the apartment building, without once looking back.

"Goodbye," Dylan finally voiced to an empty doorway, long after Elijah had disappeared.

"What is wrong with me?" Elijah said shaking his head and beating himself up now that he was several blocks away.

How do you forget someone you've been with for three years? And better yet, how do you end up going home with a complete stranger. He could have been a serial killer. This doesn't make any sense. And where the hell did that woman come from? There had been no one in the apartment when they got there.

Elijah couldn't figure any of it out. He passed his reflection in a shop window, and realized why he had been so cold. He must have left his jacket at the club. Either that, or back at Dylan's. And there was no way he was going back for that.

Sighing, he turned left instead of right at the next block to head back to the club. Even if Steve wasn't there, he'd be able to get in. He'd had a set of keys for years now. There was no way he could go back home just yet regardless of the jacket. He was a mess. Physically and mentally. Bryan would know something was wrong.

Know something was wrong? Of course, he would. Because you're telling him. You can't not tell him. Wait for the right time, sure. Maybe. No. You're telling him. You can't put this off.

He got to the side door of the club and let himself in finding it empty and bare. Steve was already gone. That was probably a good thing. It gave him time to think. To work things out in his head, so that Bryan wasn't subjected to this mess anymore than he had to be.

He took one of the chairs stacked at the bar down and sat down. Maybe he'd poor himself a drink. Steve wouldn't mind. No, that's probably what got him into this mess in the first place. Wasn't it? He stared out at the dance floor trying to remember how he went from harmlessly flirting and teasing Dylan to almost sucking his cock.

He remembered dance after dance interspersed with the occasional drink. They'd talked. If you could call it that. What little could be heard over the roar of people around him had just been playful jibes and quips. When did it all change?

I feel so untouched and I want you so much that I just can't resist you. It's not enough to say that I miss you. I feel so untouched right now, need you so much somehow. I can't forget you, been going crazy from the moment I met you.

That had to be it. Elijah jumped up and started to pace trying to remember. That song, whatever it was, that was the last thing he remembered being played before they left. Before they started getting too close for their own good. Before he had actually felt like he cared about Dylan and what he thought of him. Before he had wanted to leave with him.

He kept flashing back to glimpses of the night dancing under the strobing lights to the hectic beat in the club, the whole while that song kept going through his head. I'll never ever let you leave me. I'll try to stop time for ever, never want to hear you say goodbye. So he'd pinpointed when he'd lost his damn mind, but he still no had clue as to why.

Groaning, he scrubbed his hands over his face trying to jostle something out of there. He'd never heard the song before. There should be no reason why it stuck with him. Or why it induced temporary insanity. And now he was just being ridiculous. The song had nothing to do with it. He'd needed to forget the song. The song was pointless, wasn't it? It had nothing to do with what had happened, or what he needed to figure out. It was going to be stuck in his head for days though, he could already tell it. Damn it.

He looked down at his watch and saw the time, immediately cursing. It was after three in the morning. He needed to be getting back. Bryan was probably worried sick. And he didn't need that on top of everything else this evening. Sighing, he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, locking it behind him, and continuing back the way he'd come.

Walking alone on empty Brooklyn streets wasn't something he was entirely used to, but he appreciated it in this moment. It was the type of peace that his mind lacked and honestly, it was nice. It allowed for a breath. A chance to tilt his head back and look at the stars. Something he hadn't done in years. They were still so small. And so was he. I guess that's the one thing that didn't change.

It was so quiet on the streets. Too quiet. Elijah didn't even hear the normal arguments inside the apartments he passed, or the noises of the city from afar. He kept looking back over his shoulder from a most likely absurd suspicion that there was someone there. Following him. But he was wrong. No one was ever there. At least not behind him. The same couldn't be said for in front of him as he turned the corner.

Inwardly groaning, Elijah crossed the street to the other side and picked up his pace when he saw a group of drunken idiots up ahead of him. He was minding his own business, there should be no reason why they couldn't return the favor.

"Hey, that's him!" he heard a familiar voice shout from the group.

Shit. It was the man that had hit on him at the bar. Great, he was going to be hassled again. Why couldn't people just take no for an answer.

As they started to head in his direction, the looks on their faces made Elijah rethink what exactly he was about to deal with. They weren't coming over here to sexually harass him. The guy probably hadn't even been gay. They were going to beat the shit out of him. He knew it already. That's why the guy had been so insistent on him leaving the club with him. Upon this realization he took off running.

He only had six more blocks till he got home. He could outrun them. He couldn't take them in a fight, but whereas they were built, he was lanky, he could make it. But what if he didn't? What if he got home at the same time as them? He'd be leading them right to Bryan. Then he'd be in danger too.

He slowed down. Already deciding what he needed to do. They were a block behind him. He could have kept going and been safe. But how important was that really.

"What did you grow a backbone faggot?" one of them slurred. "Not scared anymore, huh? We'll see about that."

The next few moments were tuned out in Elijah's mind. He felt the blows to his face and his stomach. He heard the insults and taunts as if a vibration. Not registering what they were saying but their intent. He steeled himself throughout. Just trying to make it through. Eventually they would get whatever pent up aggression and rage they had toward him out, and they would stop. Or pass out. Whichever came first.

They couldn't keep this up forever. He just had to outlast them. He didn't even register that he was curled up on the wet pavement in a seedy alley lying in his blood. He didn't register anything. At least until he was shocked back into consciousness when a metal pipe connected with the soft area of his abdomen.

He gasped out loud, curling farther inward and flailing his arms around to cover his head. If they were going to start using that, there was no way to just wait it out. Not safely. He was screwed, wasn't he?

Apparently they had realized that they had gotten his attention again, and laughing, one of the bigger ones grabbed him by his ankles to drag him away from the wall. Away from the small amount of protection he had.

Elijah felt hit after hit from the pipe on his ribs and his back. They even managed to get one onto his jaw between the cracks of his arms. He knew he had several broken ribs and his jaw to contend with at the very least. He wouldn't be surprised if there were more serious injuries though, he thought, as he coughed up blood.

Eventually they got bored with hitting him and sat back to watch him moan and try and move, kicking him back down every time he managed to make some progress.

Early morning traffic started to trickle by on the street beside them. It was still dark outside, but one of the more sober assholes noticed after a while, and did his best to pick up his buddies from the ground. He was able to herd them off toward wherever they were supposed to be so that they wouldn't be noticed when the area became busier, but not before the group was able to get off one last shot by throwing their empty beer bottles at him. Some of them just hitting and bouncing off, but a few of them breaking and scattering over him.

Well, this night had just been fantastic. He wasn't dead. Every body part was throbbing and the pool of blood around him looked like something out of a movie, but he wasn't dead. He just had to wait till daylight. Someone would see him. He'd get help. Soon. He just had to wait.

He managed to get himself back over to the wall, and leaned his side against it. It wasn't much support, but it was the best he could manage. There was no way he was getting up and walking away this minute.

He heard cans rattle behind from something farther into the alley. Great, rats, just what he needed right now.

Only it wasn't rats. It was a woman. Not like any he'd ever seen before. She looked like she had come out of Xena. There was no way she was from New York. Even with how eccentric people tended to dress here. Maybe she was here for a comic-con.

She looked familiar though. And that was what was incredibly strange. That was the third time tonight that he had seen a complete stranger and still somehow felt they were familiar. This didn't make any sense. But he wasn't going to complain if it meant someone finding him sooner.

"Help," he tried to make his voice loud enough for her to hear, to get her attention. Though he needn't have bothered with that, because from the look of things she had already seen him and was heading in his direction the entire time.

"Help?" she said, as if they were having a chat about the weather, and not about him bleeding on the ground. "But why would I do that?"

"What, little one, have you ever done for me?" she asked, as she finally reached him and kneeled down to his level.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand," Elijah stammered.

"No, you don't," she tilted her head, "But you will."

And with that a knife seemed to come out of nowhere, only it wasn't like any knife he'd ever seen. Before he could even protest, she had plunged it into his stomach, and twisted it several times.

"Why?" Elijah screamed in agony.

"That's right, I forgot," she said bemused. "You wouldn't know. Don't worry, this should help with that."

And before she even finished her sentence she ripped the blade back out in the most painful way she could manage.

The minute the blade was pulled from his body he was swarmed with memories that weren't his. Couldn't be his. Information he could have never hoped to possess. A feeling of identity with a person that he wasn't. But as more and more rushed back, he realized that they were his. That all of this was him. He finally remembered. He knew. Everything. Just in time to die. But that was how it worked wasn't it?

If a god wasn't a participant in the rite that Hades performed on them each cycle in his attempt to help them any way he could, then they would live out the rest of their cycle unaware. Until their dying moments.

"You," he managed to get out even with the blood pouring out of his mouth.

"Me," she said with pride.

"You can't though," he spat out with blood. "You're not allowed."

"I don't think you're in a position to tell me what I'm allowed to do," she said enjoying this moment more and more as time passed.

"They'll find out," he said with finality. "That it was you. That it's been you all along, hasn't it?"

"You always were the smart one," she said looking down at him with no remorse or pity. "But I think I'm safe. You certainly won't be telling any tales. And even if you do get your memories back next cycle, you won't remember this one. Traumatic experiences are the one thing that's spared from you unfortunately."

"So, how exactly are you going to stop me again?" she laughed. "You know, I should just finish you off. Slit your throat. Be on my merry way. But where would be the fun in that? You get to suffer more this way. So enjoy."

She wiped he blade off on his jacket before slipping it back in her belt. Standing up, she gave one last glance to him before mockingly bowing to him, and turning on her heel away. She didn't even make it to the end of the alley before a gust of wind blew by and she disappeared into a mist and then thin air.

Right. So, so much for waiting out the night and getting help. Blood was literally pouring from his stomach and his jacket wasn't any good at stopping it. And he had almost chocked on his blood three times now. There was no daylight for him.

That was fine. He couldn't really feel the pain anymore anyway. It was more of an inconvenience with the blood sticking to him now. He slipped down the wall and laid completely on the ground. This angle was better. Easier. He could just close his eyes. And make it even easier. Especially since when he closed his eyes he saw Di. And that made everything better.

"Di…"

"Something's wrong," Dylan jolted up from the couch, where he and Hera had been watching a VHS.

"What do you mea—" she didn't even get to finish before he had vanished with a pop causing the papers on the coffee table to be blown onto the floor.

"Well, that's just great," she sighed, before mentally tracking Di and following him in the same manner.

When Hera rematerialized beside Di, she wasn't expecting to find him making inhuman noises over a prone body. He had blood dripping all over him from when he had grabbed Elijah and held him to himself.

She tried to drag Di away from the body but he kept swatting her away. She knew what he was going to try to do, and she had to stop him. It wasn't going to work. There was too much blood. He was too far gone. Hera remembered the last time she's seen Coop like this, and he'd been too gone then too. She hadn't been able to save him.

Di wouldn't listen to her though. He barricaded himself around the body so she couldn't take it away from him, and he brought his hands to Elijah's chest, chanting for all he was worth, his hands starting to emit a strange blue glow.

"Πάρτε ό, τι έχει τελειώσει και το μεταρρυθμίσουμε. Φέρτε πίσω ό, τι έχει πάει και να το επανεκκινήσετε," he said in a creepily booming voice.

"Di, you can't," Hera tried to get through to him. "It won't work."

"Shut up!" he screamed. "Shut up! Shut up! Θεραπεύστε."

"Θεραπεύστε," he sobbed. "Θεραπεύστε. Θεραπεύστε!"

"Di, you have to stop," she said kneeling down next to him to try and reason with him. He wasn't listening to her. "You're killing yourself. You don't have enough power to bring him back. Neither of us do. You're just draining yourself. And prolonging his pain."

"I have to try, Hera," he said. "I have to try."

Giving in to his determination, Hera rested her hand on his back and her head on his shoulder. She would be there when he was done. She would make sure he didn't kill himself. If he needed to put himself through this, so be it.

"Di?" they both heard weakly from below them, shocking them both into looking toward Elijah.

"Coop? Is that you?" Di said hesitantly. "You remember?"

"Yeah," he choked out more blood. The blood that Di had just managed to restart. "What do you think you're doing, Di?"

"Healing you," Di said refusing to look at Coop's face.

"No, you're not," he said, trying to get his attention back. "You brought me back. But you can't keep me. You don't have enough power. Even with Hera. The last time we managed something like this, it took all of us."

"I'm going," he whispered, ignoring Di's sob of denial. "You know, I am."

"No," he repeated, refusing to admit what all three of them already knew.

"Di…" Coop smiled when Di finally looked over at him. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for!" he said shocked.

"Okay, fine," Coop laughed painfully, gasping and grabbing the jacket over his stomach from the pain. "I'm not sorry. Is that better?"

Di snorted miserably. This was no time for joking.

"I love you," Coop said without hesitation causing Di to look up at him again with a tainted smile.

"I love you too," Di whispered. "So much. More than you'll ever know."

He bent down to kiss Coop's forehead and rest his head there for whatever time they had left.

"Di—" Elijah gasped. "There's something—tell you—"

"What?" Di asked miserably, hating to see him in pain. "What is it?"

"She's—" Coop trailed off. Di shook him back to consciousness for a second. "She—did this—back—stop—control—love you."

And with that he was gone. No matter how many times Di shook him, he didn't come back this time. Hera eventually was able to drag him away from the body and held him, rocking him right there in the alley. He sounded like a wounded animal. It was the most heartbreaking sound she'd ever heard. And she's heard plenty of them.

"Did you happen to get any of that?" she finally asked. "What he said?"

"No, not really," he said in a monotone. "I got that he loved me. And something about a she. I don't really know what it means though."

"Me neither," she replied. "That's what worries me."

Shuddering and gasping awake, he bolted upright in his bed his hand immediately reaching for his stomach expecting to come back with blood. But nothing. He was drenched in sweat, but there were goose bumps all over his body as if he was cold. This made no sense. It had felt so real. But it couldn't be. He couldn't even remember half the dream now. And the more he thought about it, the more it faded away. He didn't even know who those people were supposed to be. Why was his subconscious always so fucking violent and insane. He swore it was out to get him sometimes.

Sighing, he reached behind him to rearrange his pillow, flipping over to the side to lay back down. Kurt glanced over to the clock and saw it was almost five in the morning. Great. Well there went his last couple of hours of sleep before school. Groaning, he flopped back into the bed and closed his eyes.