Catherine and Wylie (chapter 3)

by Aimee in ...I don't know. HOLY CROW, I'M LOST!!!!!!!!!

When Catherine next awoke, her back was lying on something hard. It felt like stone. Not very comfortable sleeping quarters. But her head was on something warm, and soft. Not pillow soft, but cushier then the stone bed she was one. As her mind came more into focus, she also felt somebody’s  fingers running through her hair. Her brain became more and more aware, and she could suddnely tell that there was someone holding her, stroking her hair, and whispering to her. She concentrated to catch the voice and words.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This isn’t fair,” came the pained whisper of Wylie. “This is exactly why I broke up with you. I knew something like this was coming. I knew that if they knew you were of any worth to me, they’d hurt you. Possibly kill you. I love you, Catheine. And as much as your presence here comforts me…I don’t want you here. You shouldn’t be here. This isn’t your world, this isn’t your life. This isn’t your war.”

He, obviously, still thought she was asleep. She knew he wouldn’t look this weak in front of anybody. Anybody. She needed to put him out of his misery. She needed to comfort him. Of course, he was the one that had broken her heart. But that seemed lightyears away. Nothing mattered anymore. He said he loved her. She didn’t know how deep that went as far as the whole ‘together’ thing. But it mattered.

She forced her eyes opento look up into his tear-streaked face. He was cradling her head in his lap, and his face was so fierce in his passion, that she almost kissed him. Almost. But her urge was unnessacary, for he let out a relieved gasp of, “Catherine,” and leaned down to  kiss her full on the mouth. She was about to push him away, thinking about how he hurt her, her hand on his chest. But then she  remember his speech he had given when he thought she was still unconscious, and ended grabbing his shirt where her hand was, and pulling him closer.

Wylie pulled away all to soo, only to leave them both breathless and staring at eachother in wonder and surprise.

“I’m sorry,” said Wylie, once again.

“Stop. Don’t even continue that thought. Not a moment of this is your fault. I don’t blame a second of it on you. So don’t  you even try to feed me that line of lies. There’s nothing to be sorry for. And the only thing we need to concentrate on right now is how to get out of here.”

The only answer was a long stare at her, until he finally let out a long sigh and said, “Okay.”

Catherine sat up, pulling her head out of his lap. For the first time she got a good look at her surroundings. She was right, she was sitting on a long slab of concrete held up by chains in the wall, just like old-fashion dungeons. There was a steel door was bolts running all along the planes.  There was no handle on the door, only a small window at the very top of the door with bars running vertically along it. The room itself was completely concrete. No decorations. Nothing but the so called ‘bed’ and another barred window.

Catherine looked back at Wylie and, trying to lighten the mood, said, “I’m guessing we’re in some kind of dungeon.”

Wylie looked at her with that incredibly pained expression again, giving a strained nod. Catherine sighed. “You’ve got to stop blaming yourself,” she said, reading that same guilty, regretful expression on his face that he had when he was appologizing. He dropped his head to his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. Catherine scooted closer to him, taking his hands away from his face, holding them in both of hers and forcing his gaze up to her’s. “Hey,” she said gently. “It’ll be ok. I promise. We’re both alive, aren’t we? And together. We’re gonna get out of this. I swear it.”

He stared at her, his eyes burning with passion. She smiled gently, trying to placate him. He wrapped his long, strong arms around her, and pulled her into a tight hug, whispering, “You have no idea how good it feels to hear you say that we’re together in this.”

Catherine pulled away and looked him square in the eye. “I promise. What happened a while back…that doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is now. And right now I have quite a bit of questions for you.”

He nodded, knowing this was coming, and pulled away, keeping her hands in his. He knew that she deserved answers, and truthful ones. So he would gives those. He nodded and gestered for her to continued.

“Your not human,” Catherine said, repeating the obvious. Wylie nodded, confirming this. “What are you?” He sighed. He shouldv’e known this was coming. He was hesitant, wondering how she’ll take it. “Tell me, Wylie. Tell me the truth,” she continued, trying to urge him on.

“You came over to my house a few times. Met my parents, remember?” he started. She nodded, showing she was on the same page. “Well….those aren’t my real parents,” he said bluntly. “They’re friends of mine. My real parents…aren’t exactly normal. You’ve read about greek mythology, right?” he questioned again. She nodded eagerly. Geek myths were her favorite stories to read. “Have you ever heard of the greek god, Poseidon?” she nodded again. Poseidon was her absolute favorite.  “He’s real. And he’s my father,” Wylie continued slowly. He stared at her face as the shock registired. She stared right back at him, her eyes wide and her mouth slack.

When she finally regained her composure, she asked anther question, “So…does that mean that you’re a…god?”

“Similar to one. My mother was a half blood. A person born to a mortal with only one god as a parent. So I’m…three fourths god.”

Catherine nodded mutely, starting to recover and soak everything in. “Who’s your second blood line to the gods?” she inquired.

“Athena. She was my mother’s mother. Both of whom are dead right now.”

“So…what does that have to do with all of this?” Catherine asked, gesturing around the room with her hands, before carefully placing them back into Wylie’s.

“There’s a war. A big one. The underworld. They’re revolting. Poseidon is running out of power. They need me now more then ever. I’m the only one with anything close to his power.”

“Well, how were you in my world in the first place? I mean why didn’t you just stay with him your entire life? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you were there, but why?”

“When I was thirteen, before my mother died, she and my father, Poseidon, decided I need to affiliate myself with the outside world. With the mortal world. They set up my home with my fake parents. I was to stay with them for a year. That’s when you first met me. When I started the year, I was so facinated by all the freedom and things you were and everybody was able to do. When the year was up I didn’t return. My replacement parents got a letter in the mail from my father. He told them how my mother was killed when her oxygyn mask broke one time while they were visiting. He told them of how he needed me to return immediately, for he felt the war brewing. But I didn’t. This world was so captivating, I couldn’t bring myself to leave. So I stayed. Many times my father sent his warriors to capture me. I escaped everytime. Except this time. Nero, he’s not somebody to be messed with. And I couldn’t get away. And then they dragged you into it. And here we are.”

Catherine’s eyes wandered with a  gazed over look. Trying to let all that soak in.

“Are you okay?” asked Wylie, his voice filled with concern.

“Yeah. Just feeling…incredibly insignifigant right now.”

His eyes automatically softened, and he pulled her into another hug, whispering in her ear, “You have no idea how much signifigance you are to me. No idea.”

Catherine sighed contently. He pulled away from the embrace, but kept his face close, looking her straight in the eyes and holding her shoulders. “Okay?”

“Okay. But why did he call you Lysander.”

Wylie sighed, relunctant but not completely blocked. “That’s my birth name. And I despise it. It’s too formal. It means ‘one who is freed’, you know. Except I don’t feel so free at the moment,” he said, looking arounf their cell. “And now, if you have no more questions for me, we need to figure out how to escape.”