Chapter Text
The incessant beep drives Patroclus mad. Unending- beep, beep, beep. Where is that terrible noise coming from?
Patroclus.
He blinks. Oh. The heart monitor. That damned heart monitor.
Achilles looked so weak, those last few days. It was wrong, the way the man who swept into his heart, always larger than life, could be brought so low. He should always shine, should always be happy. They were always supposed to be happy.
And then he’d only had six months to live. Neither of them could believe it. The tears spilled as he pleaded for life. The manic, heartbreaking sex to try to temporarily soothe what both of them knew was unavoidable. The desperate search for treatment, the false smiles and hope that masked terror at impending doom.
Finally, there was no more time left.
Patroclus, promise me. Promise me that you’ll live. Both of you.
He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to know a life without his other half.
Please. I need to hear it.
Patroclus wept, nodding through his tears. Achilles smiled, one last time.
Thank you. I’ll see you and Philia tomorrow, okay?
No you won’t, Patroclus wanted to scream. But he nodded again, squeezing Achilles’ hand.
One slow breath, and then it was all over. The beeping slows to one, long crawl, and Patroclus’ heart shatters, never to be mended.
“Patroclus.”
Another sob shudders through Patroclus as the world comes back into focus. His heart aches when he gazes upon Achilles’ beautiful portrait, surrounded by white flowers. Mourners pass by; a sea of black that he can hardly be bothered to recognize.
“Patroclus, sweetheart.”
He turns to his mother, her eyes worn from sadness. In her arms is his six-year-old daughter, fitfully asleep after crying through the entirety of the ceremonies. He’d been so caught up in his own grief that he could hardly hear her. He reaches for Philia- the only part of his soulmate, of his soul that he has left- and brings her close, shifting so that she can squeeze into his neck.
“Papa’s here,” he whispers, over and over, a platitude to himself as much as it is for her. This had been the hardest part for Achilles to take. He’d tried so hard to smile through the pain, to sing sweet songs and play alongside his beloved daughter, who’d watched her Daddy fade as he went from throwing her high into the sky to barely being able to hold her without hiding a flinch. It killed Achilles inside just as much as the cancer ever did, and it killed Patroclus to witness.
Philomela composes herself, straightening her back. Patroclus can never be grateful enough for her strength; for support from her, Thetis, and Peleus as they managed to care for Philia, organize the funeral, and manage the last of Achilles’ estate. He can’t remember how he reached this day.
“They want to know how you’d like to get the urn home.”
The urn was beautiful- pure gold, edged with mother of pearl so that it gleamed rainbows in the sunlight. The most beautiful, for the most beautiful person.
“It’ll be heavy,” Patroclus mutters. “He was so muscular; I won’t be able to lift it with-”
Patroclus stops.
An emaciated Achilles was barely one hundred pounds.
Philomela understands anyway.
A couple months later Patroclus is not doing much better.
The house is clean, thanks to Philomela. The fridge is full of meals, stocked weekly by Thetis. Philia’s clothes are clean, she’s fed, and she attends school to the best of her ability. Patroclus would never make her go if she didn’t want to, but honestly, he wouldn’t know if she did. Some mornings he’s barely cognizant, lost in grief.
This is one of those mornings- one of those days.
The only space that fully reflects the chaos in his heart and mind is his bedroom, where Achilles’ clothes and items are strewn about. He was supposed to pack them, but he cannot bring himself to do it. Others have tried, but he breaks down every time, screaming profanities and collapsing into tears. Eventually, they stopped, leaving him to huddle in the smell of sandalwood and a lost future.
Today he’s watching videos on his phone, smiling through tears every time Achilles graces the screen. Achilles holds a seven-month Philia close, gazing upon her like the world was in his hands.
“Hi baby girl,” he coos, rubbing their noses together. Philia giggles, her hands bashfully at her cheeks. “She knows I’m talking about her, the most precious child in the world. Hi baby girl, hi baby girl-” Achilles turns to the camera and beams proudly. “Daddy’s so proud of you, you know that? And Papa’s so proud of you too, wave hi-”
Patroclus sniffles, as the digital version of him replies. He’ll have to show Philia; it’ll make her happy. He’s rewinding the video when Thetis’ name pops up on his screen. Frowning, he answers.
“Patroclus,” she rushes, “I came to pick Philia up from school today and she’s not here.”
Up from school? Patroclus looks at his phone; he didn’t realize the time had passed so quickly. Also-
“What do you mean she’s not there? Where is she?”
Thetis explains how she’s contacted the authorities, but Patroclus can hardly hear her over the rush of blood in his ears. No. No. He can’t go through this again. He can’t lose her too. How did this happen? He couldn’t even keep Philia safe. He promised Achilles and he’s already failed. Where was she? What if she was hurt? What can he do? He’s not there, he’s not there to make sure she’s okay, what is he going to do-
A couple hours later, he’s sprinting into the police station to meet Thetis, and clinging to her leg is a sobbing Philia. Relief rocks him so hard that he almost collapses, but he moves forward, only falling when Philia runs into his arms. Her eyes red, Thetis thanks the officer and walks over.
“She… she thought she saw Achilles, and she followed behind him for a couple miles. Luckily, the man eventually noticed, and he brought her to the police station.”
It’s illogical of him, but fury spreads through Patroclus, simmering as he puts Philia down onto her own two feet. He doesn’t remember what he said before leaving a concerned Thetis behind, doesn’t remember the drive. He tries to crush it down as they enter the house, tries to flee to his bedroom-
“He had hair like Daddy, and he was tall too, so I thought-”
Patroclus pinches his eyes shut, shivering with emotion.
“What have we said about following strangers.”
“But-”
“What if something had happened to you? What if I’d lost you, too?!”
Philia braces, stubborn despite the tears in her eyes. “But I thought I saw-”
“Well you didn’t! You didn’t, Philia! He’s gone! He’s never coming back!”
“Why not?!” Philia screams. “Why can’t Daddy come back?! I miss him and he needs to come back! Why-”
It’s too much right now. Patroclus cannot deal with these heightened emotions. His heart hums, it’s beating so fast with anxiety. He needs to go.
“Enough. No more questions.” He just wants to go back to the videos. Back in time.
“No! It’s not fair, I want Daddy back!”
“Stop-”
“Why are you being like this?”
“Stop it-”
“Why don’t you fix it, why can’t we just go back and-”
“Philia- SHUT UP!”
Patroclus immediately regrets his anger when Philia chokes on a sob, her expression visceral as she visibly holds in a scream so hard it forces her to bend forward with pain.
“Philia, Phi wait, please, I’m- I didn’t-”
“My heart hurts,” she whispers.
With that, Philia flees. Seconds later he hears a door slam shut. Miserable, Patroclus slumps on the stairs, forcing himself to breathe, to calm down. It seems like a lifetime when he can finally face his shame and make his way up to her room.
“Philia?”
He nearly breaks into tears again when he sees her curled up into a ball in the corner of her bed. It’s entirely too early, she hasn’t eaten dinner, and she hasn’t asked to be tucked in. Even when Achilles passed, Philia expected to be tucked in at night. It had become a grounding sort of ritual for them, to let her know that Papa was still here. The rejection- I don’t want you anymore- is poignant.
Deeply ashamed, Patroclus stumbles back downstairs. He doesn’t know what to do. He messed up. He messed up, and now his baby wants nothing to do with him. She’s right. Why should she? How dare he act so concerned, now. He hasn’t been doing what he needs to do. He didn’t even know how she ate this morning. What did she eat at all. He didn’t know that Thetis was picking her up, but he hadn’t planned on getting her. He didn’t know anything. Why would she trust him anymore?
Hours later, he stares at a nature documentary mindlessly, the TV bright in the pitch-black living room. He’s so exhausted, but he can’t sleep. He hasn’t slept in his bed since- well. In theory he should be hungry, but he hardly eats these days either. Philia might be hungry now, he thinks, before scoffing at himself. Now you want to play the good parent. Steeling himself for attempt number two, he makes his way back to Philia’s room and turns on her side lamp.
“Phi, are you-” He startles; the bed is empty. “Philia?” Panic crawls icily through his veins, but this time he fights it as he searches her closet and bathroom. When she’s not there, he checks the hallway, and sees the light in his room. For one delusional moment, painful hope surges through him. Maybe he’s just dreaming, and when he goes into his room, his family will be-
No. No.
Patroclus finds Philia curled up on his bed. This time she’s wrapped in Achilles’ favorite blanket, shivering as she quietly cries in her sleep. Patroclus’ chest quakes. His harsh, barking laughs slip into sobs as he falls to his knees in front of the bed, penitent. Hi, baby girl, he hears in his mind, cooing to a smiling baby.
“What am I doing? What am I supposed to do? I’m so sorry,” he weeps. “Papa’s so sorry. Please forgive me. I’m sorry. I can’t bring Daddy back. I can’t fix it. I wish I could, I would do anything to, but I can’t. I don’t know how; I don’t know how to do this by myself...”
Philia waves goodbye to Briseis, sprinting back into the dining room to throw her homework onto the table.
“Thanks for watching her, Bri,” Patroclus sighs, watching her speed away. “I wasn’t sure if I’d be in the lab later than usual, tonight.”
“No problem,” Briseis offers. “I’m always here if you need me. She still needs to eat.”
“I know, and I’ve got something in the oven,” he answers, accepting the warm hug before pulling away. “Get home safe, okay?”
He’s grateful for such a good and supportive friend, something he often tells his therapist out of both truth and a guilty conscience. It’s been about two years since Achilles passed, but only a year since Briseis had tried to step in to soothe the ache in Patroclus’ heart. One thing had led to another. Briseis was a wonderful woman- beautiful, kind, and generous. One of the most intelligent women he’s ever met. Even the sex- something Patroclus never thought he’d ever want again- was great, a welcome distraction from the pain.
But that’s all it ever was- a distraction.
No matter how much he tried, he could not bring himself to yearn for her the way he did for Achilles. Even when they lay side by side, when he felt some of the emptiness inside him give way to companionship, it felt…wrong. Once, he’d watched a sex tape he and Achilles had filmed. His heart warmed as they tease back and forth, falling into an easy intimacy; the way he responded to a fire that he could not replicate with Briseis. Nothing could compare. He wouldn’t love romantically again, and it was both a searing reality and a relief to finally accept.
It wasn’t fair to Briseis, who would never have his heart. It also wasn’t fair to Philia to introduce someone into her life that would never be the parental figure she wanted. He’d cut it off with Briseis soon after. She was understandably heartbroken, but she understood. But he hadn’t realized just how horrible he felt until he went to tell Philia, and she had looked up at him with Achilles’ bright green eyes and said:
“Auntie Bri isn’t going to be my new Daddy?”
Patroclus’ entire backbone crumbled. He stumbled a few feet, racing away before Philia could see him cry. He’d barely made it into the closet that had become his sanctuary before sobbing, begging Achilles’ memory for forgiveness. How dare he. How dare he bring someone into his home, to try to take his place in the eyes of his daughter. How could he. He was worse than the lowest of traitors to his husband, and to Philia.
Philia who had been, for the most part, the most resilient child he could ever ask for. Loss had wizened her beyond her tiny years, but she still wanted her Daddy, and instead Patroclus had brought someone into their home far before they could ever be ready. And he would never be ready. For God knows how long, he silently screamed, clawed at his arms, and pulled at his locs in that closet, hating himself until the depression overcame him so thoroughly that he was ready to end it all.
He crawled to the bathroom, blindly digging through the bottles in the drawers until he found a full bottle of aspirin. He didn’t deserve his husband, and he didn’t deserve his daughter. The open bottle was at his lips when a small hand gripped his shirt.
“Are you sick, Papa?” Philia asked, brow furrowed with concern. “Does it hurt that bad? I can call a doctor. Well I don’t know any doctors- but I can figure it out!”
She was going to support him.
He was about to leave her to discover his dead body, probably surrounded by vomit and blood; a horrific image that she would never escape. A final ‘gift’ from her pathetic Papa whom she would resent for the rest of her life- and she was about to do it faithfully.
“Papa?” Philia asked, stunned when Patroclus yanked her into a hug. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”
“No,” he wept. “No, I didn’t.” But I was going to hurt you. I was going to leave you behind with no fathers at all. “I’m okay.”
“Papa, you’re hurting me.”
“I’m sorry,” Patroclus pulls away, gently thumbing at her arms. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m okay, I’ll be okay.”
The next morning- he didn’t sleep a wink- he called a psychiatrist.
Patroclus reclines in the sun, watching Philia play in the front yard. It’s summer break, and that means Philia has all the time in the world to jump, scream, and laugh. It’s a balm for his soul. His alarm buzzes; twelve noon.
“Phi! Medicine time.”
Philia sprints to him, lifting her water bottle from the grass. Patroclus, on one of his better days, found a creative way to get Philia to take her ADHD meds while also encouraging himself to take his own- make it a family thing.
“Aah,” he reveals, opening his mouth. Philia does it back, and he rubs her head before letting her go play again. This week in particular has made him anxious. A new family is moving onto the block, bringing a change to his environment that Patroclus is unable to control. Worst of all, it’s Hector from undergrad. Ugh. If Achilles had been here, they could have hissed and booed at the oncoming truck together.
He certainly doesn’t think it’s going to be an unavoidable issue until he hears a crash, followed by a disgruntled ‘ouch!’ from the cul-de-sac. He sits up to see a kid that looks Philia’s age stand, tearfully lifting a bright red two-wheeler from the ground. Philia drops her toys to run to him, and Patroclus frowns. She shouldn’t run into the street; she could get hurt-
Uh oh.
The boy flushes to his reddish-brown roots upon her approach, blinking a few times before he puffs up his chest, all his former tears replaced by bravado. Philia giggles; she must be asking about the bike, because the boy starts pointing out all of its features, even offering the seat. Philia turns back to the house, only pausing to wave the boy forward, until they are in the driveway and then right in front of him. Once the boy’s close enough, it takes everything within Patroclus not to roll his eyes. He knows exactly whose child this is. It doesn’t help that Philia is practically glowing from excitement, batting her lashes up at Patroclus.
“Papa, this is Calix! He just moved in down the street! His older brother painted his bike for him, and it’s so pretty! Can…” She pauses, suddenly unsure. “Can he come inside for a snack?”
Suddenly, it doesn’t matter who this kid’s father is. Patroclus didn’t realize it until just now, but Philia hasn’t looked this happy in a long time. She certainly hasn’t asked anyone into their home; perhaps out of respect for him? Regardless, it’s been three years, and Philia is finally ready to move forward… even if he is not. If this new friend made her happy, could bring light to her life… who is he to refuse?
Tentatively, Patroclus nods, rising.
“Okay.” Philia’s eyes widen with elation, her breath catching. “Let’s get you both something to eat.”
Patroclus waits at home, fretting over his preparations for the fifth time. He just can’t help it- Philia is coming home for winter break at the end of the week, and he wants to make sure everything is perfect for her. Her room and bathroom are clean and stocked with fresh towels and linens. Her favorite snacks fill the pantry, and he’s prepared to make all her favorite meals. He knows she’s missed his home cooking, cooking they used to do together. He even has their matching aprons washed and ready.
It's been fourteen years since Achilles passed, and their daughter is now a proud sophomore in college. Philia struggled with schoolwork, but Patroclus always knew that she was capable of anything she set her mind to. Not only did she graduate with decent grades, but she’s been offered a position in a prestigious Dance program. He worried when she was twelve; she was receding into herself, her grades slipping. So when she expressed interest in dance, Patroclus firmly threw himself into making it happen. He attended almost every program and competition, and if he couldn’t make it, her grandparents would tag in. He signed her up for every seminar and camp she asked. It fills him with endless pride and joy, witnessing how much she excelled out there under the lights. He wishes her Daddy could have seen her, and he often tells her how proud Achilles would have been.
He is so happy! He’s going to see his daughter again, to hear all of her lively stories, to see her sunshine smile with those gigantic dimples. Everything was going to be great.
Except for one thing.
She’s bringing her boyfriend.