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Achilles!
Patroclus bolted upright, scrambling to his feet despite the wounds on his body. His heart was still pounding from the frantic pace of battle. Confusion rose up within him as his terror waned. Just moments ago, he had been on the battlefield outside Troy, fighting the enemy back towards the walls of their city. He had been wearing Achilles’ armor, attempting to preserve his beloved’s reputation without forcing the man to assist Agamemnon.He had promised Achilles to only drive the Trojans out of the camp before coming back, but in the rush of battle and the thrill of his own success, he had grown arrogant. He had chased Hector’s forces all the way back to Troy, even attempting to climb the wall before Apollo himself knocked Patroclus back to the ground. His helmet had fallen off then, his deception exposed as he stood surrounded by the enemy. The last thing he remembered was leaping over a spear thrown at his knees, only to feel another spear pierce the skin of his back from behind.Only as his panic subsided did Patroclus remember that he was bleeding, a line of red marking the shin of his calf. He twisted his arm, feeling along his back to confirm that he was bleeding where he had felt the spear strike him. Once he had taken stock of his own condition, he looked around to examine his surroundings.It was immediately clear that he had no idea where he is. The high wall of Troy and the worn-out battlegrounds had been replaced by two walls on either side that were about the size of a two-level building.He checked his wounds again. The gash on his leg was shallow, and the bleeding had quickly slowed. As for his back, whatever had transported him here had taken him just as the spear had broken the skin. He immediately sent a prayer of thanks to the gods that it had not penetrated deeper. Had it pierced his heart, he would have been unable to properly treat the wound with no one around to assist him.Taking a moment to catch his breath, Patroclus began to focus on his next steps. The terror of nearly dying was still there, as was the fear over how he had been so suddenly transported away from camp. The only possible explanation for his predicament was the work of the gods. Thetis was a prime suspect. Given the lengths she had proven willing to go to in order to keep Achilles away from both him and the war, he wouldn’t put it past her to remove him instead. He could only imagine how swift Achilles would be to meet his fate if his lover believed that the Trojans had killed him. In any case, focusing on what to do next was helping to keep him calm.His first priority was to find out where he was and determine whether Achilles still lived. If his lover still lived, then Patroclus would search to the ends of the earth until he found him again. If Achilles had fallen, then he would join him in the Underworld and not keep him waiting any longer.A gasp behind him jolted Patroclus out of his thoughts. He whipped around to find a familiar head of gold sitting where a moment before there had been an empty space on the paved ground. The spear that Chiron had sent as a gift nearly a decade ago lay on the ground beside him, tip coated in blood.“Achilles!” The name left his mouth on instinct.The man himself turned at the sound of his name, although Patroclus suspected it had been the voice that he had reacted to, not his name. Patroclus was about to speak, to offer his apologies for disobeying the order not to leave camp, when in an instant Achilles was standing and crushing him in a hug so tight he momentarily feared all breath would be forced from his lungs ere his golden prince let go.“I'm sorry,” Achilles whispered, and Patroclus immediately recognized that the man was crying, his body shaking as his voice cracked from sobbing. “I am so, so sorry, Philtatos.” The words continue to tumble from Achilles’ lips, and Patroclus finds himself torn between confusion and heartache the more he listened. Apologies and pleas for forgiveness continued to pour out of Achilles’ mouth. And on any other day, Patroclus would have been content to simply live in the moment and bask in Achilles’ beauty. To cherish the precious word that made his heart flutter. But they needed to find out where they were.“Achilles,” he finally spoke. The tears in his lover’s eyes made Patroclus’ heart break. He had heard enough to realize that Achilles had thought him dead at Hector’s hands. Had grieved over his body for days. While he was certain they were not dead from the fact that the body Achilles had burned bore wounds Patroclus did not currently have, that did not diminish the pain his beloved had endured.“We are alive,” Patroclus said. Achilles blinked, wiping away his tears as he frowned in confusion. “The last thing I felt before I awoke here was a spear entering my back.” He paused, pulling away from his lover’s embrace as he turned to show the small cut. He could feel Achilles’ gentle hands feel the wounds on his back and leg. “I do not know how, but this is most certainly not the underworld. Nor is it Troy. We live.”“Where are we then?” Achilles asked, pulling him close again. His grip was firm. Tight. As if afraid he would wake back on the fields of Troy and find this entire conversation had been nothing more then a dream. Patroclus felt his heart ache at what his beloved must have gone through after his apparent death.“I do not know,” he admitted. “That is what we must find out. This does not look like a place where we can stay for long.” A sudden wail split the air, growing louder and closer with each instant. Before either of them realized it, the two were sounded by men wearing what appeared to be an unfamiliar type of armor, carrying small objects in their hands that the two Greeks could only assume were weapons of some kind but looked nothing like any blade or bow the two had ever seen.In an instant Patroclus found his back against the wall, Achilles standing protectively around him with a spear in hand, waving it away from his body in an effort to keep the men at bay. His stance and the grim expression on his face made it clear that anyone who tried to touch Patroclus would have to go through him.Patroclus was torn between feeling touched at how much Achilles loved him, and worried that Achilles might be killed after they had just been reunited. It was clear from their situation that this was not part of the prophecy foretelling his doom, and it would be foolish to take unnecessary risks.A moment later, a new voice emerged from the cacophony of shouting, silencing all the others. The voice was clearly speaking to the armed men, for some turned to respond to the new arrival. After a final word from the new voice, the armed warriors stepped back and lowered their weapons.A tall man stepped into the alley. Like the soldiers, he was wearing clothing that neither Patroclus nor Achilles were familiar with. Unlike them, the man was unarmed and unarmored. Sensing that this man wished to attempt to communicate with them and find a way around the language barrier, Patroclus put his hand on Achilles’ and gently lowered the spear until his beloved reluctantly let it fall to the ground.The man inclined his balding head in gratitude before pointing to himself and speaking what the Greeks assumed to be his name. “Phil Coulson”