Red eyes full of triumphant mockery, meeting the embarrassed rage of the goddess. Red like the blood of the Bull, welts caused by binding chains. Somber gold and green stood resolute at the king's side. Supreme arrogance in victory, divine fury clashing. A building whisper, like a chorus of souls.

"One day, King, you, too, will know scorn."

Derisive laughter cut over the whisper. Flashes of opulence in the sun.

"Resorting to threats, goddess?" echoing, powerful words, stronger than whispers.

The whisper rose again, spoken from perfect lips.

"Not a threat. The truth of the future."

The sudden sound of the door banging open shattered the trance and Helena gasped in surprise, her hands convulsing on the laptop keyboard and sending the screen into a hectic flash accompanied by the 'badum' of an error. Forcefully coming out of a vision was always difficult. It was hard to tell where glimpse ended and reality began. For a long moment, Helena remained still on the couch, regaining her bearings, her eyes wide. The desert sun was gone, replaced by the soft yellow glow of the lamp above her right shoulder. The blazing heat, too, had dissipated, and the soft hum of the electric heater filled the background.

"Lena?"

The exhausted question caused her eyes to jerk from the blank wall across the living room. She found her roommate dragging herself into the apartment, shutting the door after she crossed the threshold. Long white blonde hair hung in a loose braid, strands escaping from a day's worth of wear. Her face was tired as she leaned against the wall long enough to strip off her boots.

Hastily, Helena exited out of the error popups and closed her computer, half-read article still pulled up. She stood, moving toward Theresa in natural concern over her worn appearance.

"Ter, what-"

Theresa waved her off, moving past her with heavy steps.

"I'll tell you in a minute. We need to talk this out. And I need a drink."

Helena paused in surprise. Oh, it had been a stressful day, hadn't it? She watched as the taller woman dragged herself into the kitchen, black pants hugging her hips and tanktop stretching across her shoulders. She was exhausted, it was evident even in the way she walked, her steps lacking their usual surety and fighter's grace. She looked as though she'd taken a few too many hits in the ring, but Helena knew that wasn't the case this time. Theresa always gave better than she got. She had lost a total of five matches in Mattie's arena over the past twenty years, mostly because of her sheer grit and determination. Even on the nights of those losses, she hadn't been like this. Defeat had been met with a drive to do better and had led to her returning stronger than before. This...tiredness hadn't been there.

A few minutes later, Theresa emerged from the kitchen, two cans of soda in hand. Her father's blood gave her a high tolerance for alcohol, meaning that when she 'needed a drink' she never went for the obvious. Instead, she ingested something high in sugar. The rush from it was more than she'd ever gotten even after slamming back numerous beers. Helena had watched her down horrible-smelling alcoholic concoctions after being challenged to do and, aside from a grimace at the taste or burn of the liquid, she never showed any outward signs of having consumed it. As best as the pair of them reasoned, it was just an odd quirk from her Norse heritage.

Theresa sat heavily at their dining table, sprawling back, long legs stretched out, pulling her braid out and allowing her blonde hair to fall loosely over the back of the chair. She let the can thunk onto the tabletop as Helena joined her, taking the seat across from her. As soon as she was settled, Theresa slid the other can across to her. Diet soda, which the older demigod kept in store for nights like this. Helena took it with a murmured 'thank you' her eyes still brimming with worry. It was discomforting to see her like this.

Helena's earliest memory of the woman who had become her best friend was from many years prior, when Theresa had threatened a satyr for refusing to accept Helena's rebuttal of his advances. Helena would never forget that moment, when trepidation was replaced by relief as the towering woman pushed her way between the timid demigod and all-too-eager creature, whose lust for human flesh had not diminished despite the weakening of those beings from the Age of Gods. Helena could still see the way those eyes, gray like storm clouds, had snapped with their own internal lightning as her lips pulled in a thunderous scowl. Since then, she had become all too familiar with the storm brewing within her fellow demigod. She had witnessed Theresa's rages, from seething anger to table-shattering fury. The tall woman was naturally inclined to those hot, blistering emotions, though fortunately not as much so as her legendary father.

Still, in twenty years of knowing her, Helena had never witnessed this side of Theresa. A horrible hollowness had replaced the brewing storm. Sitting at their small dining table, Theresa dragged her hand through the top of her loose hair, throwing it into disarray. The untouched can of soda sat on the table before her as she lounged back in her chair, throwing one leg carelessly over the other, one arm dangling over the back of her seat. Helena's brows furrowed slightly as she wrapped her hands around her can, taking in the wet coldness that began to run down the outside of it and spread over her skin. When her roommate returned at nearly ten that night, an hour much later than usual, after a confusing series of texts concerning something called 'Chaldea', Helena wanted to immediately interrogate her. But, the tiredness that radiated from Theresa's normally strong frame deterred her. Instead, she waited, her eyes absently tracing patterns in the worn tablecloth. The table they sat at was a simple thing, just big enough for the two of them, with chipped paint and a wobbly leg. They'd picked it up at a secondhand store, but it served its purpose. It also served as the choice location for serious talks. Theresa was silent aside from the occasional sigh, and it was taking all of Helena's willpower to allow her to organize her thoughts without interference.

She wondered if she should break the silence by accounting her most recent vision, so similar and yet so different from those previous. Theresa always seemed to appreciate the distraction of idly attempting to reason out their meanings. As a child of the god of prophecy, Helena was inclined toward what she had named 'Glimpses'. They came in dreams, brief flashes, or, sometimes, trances that disconnected her completely from her surroundings. She had no control over them, and it would be a potent power if she had any idea what she was seeing. Her grandfather had once told her that these Glimpses revealed things that were, things that are, and things that will be. The issue was, Helena had no true way of knowing if what she saw had already come, was currently occurring, or had yet to pass. Though, Theresa certainly enjoyed the challenge of using the details within them to figure it out. They so often featured that same man, always in a different setting, doing something different. She'd seen him even as a young child, when she was just growing used to them. The imposing figure with his golden hair and red eyes and arrogant smirk had been a constant presence in her dreams and visions for decades. This last one, she was fairly certain it was a Glimpse of the past. And it had been one of the handful in which she actually heard dialogue.

Her thoughts were halted as Theresa leaned forward and snatched up her soda, cracking it open. A sign that she was ready to talk.

"After I texted you about that guy," she said without preamble, "He tried to follow me to Mattie's. I caught him and got him to talk. He said that his organization, Chaldea, caught footage of me fighting in the Alps three months ago."

Helena immediately changed course and cast her mind back, trying to remember what had occurred then. After a moment, she placed the incident. Theresa had responded to reports of a monstrous wolf terrorizing the locals there, and, upon arriving, found a Direwolf, a bloodthirsty creature straight out of the old legends. It had been a hard fight, and Theresa had returned with a particularly nasty claw mark on her arm.

"Footage? How…?"

Theresa shrugged one bare shoulder, taking a long drink. The muscles of her arm coiled beneath her pale skin, uncommonly defined for a woman, but not grotesque. Statuesque might be the proper term, another mark of her divine blood that so often drew unwanted attention.

"Not a clue," she replied, setting the can down again, "But, they identified and found me, that's the point. He said something about me being either an asset or a threat and being dealt with accordingly," her eyes narrowed, "I lost my temper…" her fist clenched on the tabletop, "Lena, I almost killed him. If you hadn't texted me when you did, I would have strangled him. He was turning purple and I didn't stop…"

Sensing her friend's disgust with herself, Helena put aside her own shock and reached out to touch Theresa's clenched hand. She wouldn't say it was alright, because it wasn't. Theresa was known for losing her temper, and, in all honesty, Helena had been afraid that she would choose a violent method to deal with her pursuer. That was why she'd sent the reminder when she had. It saddened her to know that her worries had been valid. Still, she didn't want Theresa to take this as some kind of confirmation that she was a monster. They weren't human, not completely, but neither were they monsters. This was something that the younger Demigod had struggled with since her childhood, past experiences complicating her views of herself and what she was. For Helena, things were different. Her lineage had far less human blood than Theresa's, but she could at least empathize. She honestly wasn't sure what she would have done in the face of the perceived threat. After all, they had been together for so long that a threat to one was a threat to both, and if it had been Theresa's life in danger by extension…

She felt a surge of bitterness just considering what this mage had put her friend through and quickly quashed it.

"It's over. He's still alive. Take this and move on. Learn from it, but don't dwell on it. What happened then?"

Theresa looked at her for a moment, hand slowly uncurling under her friend's. Then, she nodded, taking a breath.

"He gave me a card. It's in my coat pocket, I'll show you in a minute," another long gulp of soda, as though to steel herself, "I took it to Mattie, figured if anyone would know, he would…" she looked down at the table, frowning again, "I was right. According to him, this Chaldea group is a little-known mage organization that operates with the full knowledge of the government, both magical and non. UN-sanctioned, Tower-approved, and all that. They gather assets to go out and deal with threats to humanity."

The warrior's frown faded for a moment, changing into a self-deprecating smirk. Helena hated that expression. Theresa, for all her bravado and strength, didn't have much confidence in herself. She would say she did, but she didn't see the way her uncertainties showed. In her mind, it was no wonder she'd somehow screwed up and attracted attention. Helena desperately wished she could see that there was no need to-

"Mattie said it was quite the honor, being sought out by them. Then he said that, now that I'm on their radar, I won't be getting off easily. Even if they said they'll give me space, I've attracted their attention," again, her eyes narrowed, "And according to that asshole, if I don't join, then it's possible the Mage Association might try to get involved."

Helena squeezed her hand quickly, aiming to keep her calm. She herself was having a hard time. This was…big. That word was all Helena could supply to describe it. They'd been going about their lives, just…doing what they did, going to work, watching movies, eating takeout, wondering when the landlord would notice that they weren't aging quite as they should, and this happened. Still, she had to be the one who remained calm in this situation. Theresa's emotions were already flying high. They'd been discovered, in the worst way possible. It was all so sudden...the Tower and the Government both were aware of them now, no doubt. To the point that they knew how to find them. Every vague mention of Chaldea she'd managed to find had connected it to the Tower. Scenes from those horrible spy movies Theresa liked so much played in her mind's eye. People being taken into rooms deep underground, forgotten by the world and at the mercy of their captors-

Stop, she commanded herself, Breathe.

That was a far-fetched outcome. The Association wouldn't dare strike at a Demigod without provocation. And, even if it did happen, they had advantages mortals did not. The best thing to do was prepare and overcome. Besides, nothing a mortal could dredge up would be any worse than some of the things they had already witnessed. She doubted Britain's government had anything that came close to the horrors of the Fields of Punishment. Or Theresa's description of Surtr, the giant who would bring about Ragnorok.

"Even if it comes to that, we'll face it together," she said gently, "Did Mattie say anything else?"

Theresa nodded, shifting her hand so that her fingers intertwined with Helena's, grounding herself.

"He asked that I stay out of the ring for a while, just in case these guys start actively looking for Demigods and decide to use me as their lead. Said he'll be in touch if he hears anything else," she sighed, dragging her free hand through her hair again, "Said I should at least give them a call to clarify this, not to make a big deal of it," she chuckled, a choked sound, "Only he would make a joke out of a mage organization hunting someone down to recruit them…."

Helena's lips twitched at that. She'd only met Mattie a few times, but the son of Hermes had proven to be quite the character in those meetings. When they'd first been introduced at one of Theresa's matches, he'd recognized her immediately as one of Apollo's children and swooped in to hug her, declaring that it was excellent to meet another cousin. Then, he'd handed her back the necklace she'd been wearing, smiling unabashedly.

"I agree with him, actually," she murmured, "I think you should call them, ascertain what they really want. Clear up this whole mess."

Theresa looked at her for a long moment, grey eyes having lightened to the color of a cloudy sky rather than a storm front.

"…if you think it's wise," she finally assented, "I'm not certain it will be that easy, but I'm willing to try."

Helena nodded, giving her hand one more squeeze. Then, she pulled back, finally opening her can of diet soda. Theresa slammed the rest of hers back in one huge swallow, sucking down so much sugar in one go that Helena felt a flash of worry. She really was shaken by this whole day, wasn't she?

"I guess I should apologize for that guy too…" she muttered, setting the empty can down.

Her eyes flickered back to Helena.

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to," Helena said gently.

Theresa's expression tightened in distaste. Helena always had a way of stating things that were true but unpleasant to hear. They both knew that she was unlikely to apologize to the mage, but it was the reminder that Helena was not the only one keeping her accountable that grated. She huffed through her nose, a sound that further emphasized just how much she disliked the reminder.

After a long moment, in which she was obviously gathering herself, Theresa pushed up from the table, the worn wood protesting. Helena watched her go with worried eyes, taking another sip of her soda. Theresa was the type of woman who was used to fighting. She'd grown up in a war-torn place and time before Odin retrieved her and saw to her training. Battle was what she knew, and not much frightened her. This, though, was different. A fight for victory, or even a fight to the death, made sense to her, the same way that the motions of driving made sense to anyone trained in the skill. Feeling cornered and hunted was a new sensation, and it had totally thrown her off. She wasn't afraid, per say, but she was ruffled. It didn't feel natural. Helena could tell by the way the storm in her eyes had arisen like a distant flickering of lightning. Her natural inclination was to face the perceived enemy head on, but there was no one to face.

There was also the issue of Chaldea being a mage organization. Demigods were wary of mages. A particularly powerful individual could harm a Demigod fairly easily if they knew what spells to use and how to use them. On the other hand, a powerful Demigod could do harm to a mage. As such, the two groups regarded each other with wariness. The thing that worked against the Demigods was that they were far more divided than the mages. It was unusual for them to pack together simply because putting more than a few magical entities together in a concentrated area tended to draw the wrong type of attention. Things happened, mortals noticed, or worse, beasts arrived to attempt to feed on partially divine flesh. At one time, it had been dangerous because a leader among the mages had suggested that the presence of Demigods would upset the balance of the world and called for their destruction. Fortunately, that had been before either of their times. The current truce between the two groups was likely the greatest boon they had at this point. The mages wouldn't attack them outright, but this was still too delicate and dangerous a situation for either of them.

Theresa and Helena's time spent living together had been surprisingly quiet, especially when they were so close to the Clocktower. Normally, the mages didn't like it when Demigods entered their territory, but the British Isles held a surprising number of both groups. Helena theorized that it was the innate magic of the locations that had drawn them. As such, it was not uncommon for them to brush shoulders in the street, dutifully ignoring each other. She sometimes wondered if the general populace of mages even recognized what they were anymore or if they had faded into legend...

Theresa paced into the kitchen, dropping her empty can into the recycling bin before wandering back into the common room. She retrieved her coat from where it had been slung lazily over the arm of the sofa and pulled her phone from within its pocket, along with the card Brandon had given her. For a long moment, she sat on the couch, considering it. Then she punched in the number on the card and put it on speaker, her face tense as she held the device near her face.

Helena watched, her breath stalled in her chest as she reminded herself that fear was a crippling enemy. Logic would help them overcome this. Theresa's eyes glared into the same blank wall that Helena herself had been staring at only short while earlier during her trance. The ringing echoed in the small apartment for a handful of seconds that dragged on into an eternity.

The receiver clicked, causing them both to jump slightly. Helena felt anxiety-induced nausea swirling in her stomach as a pleasant female voice answered.

"Hello. You have reached the office of the director. Please state your name and business."

No confirmation of who, exactly the director was, or of the organization's name. Odd. And the woman's cheery tone was certainly not expected, either. They glanced at each other, eyes meeting briefly.

"Theresa Mcdonough. I was given this card by someone named-," she paused, frowning in her attempt to remember, "Brandon?"

The faint sound of clicking keys confirmed that they were speaking with a real person, and not a computer. Then, the woman spoke again.

"Ah, yes! Thank you for calling, Ms. Mcdonough. We're glad to hear from you. Unfortunately, the director is currently unavailable. Though, I do know that he will be excited to speak with you. If possible, we would like to arrange a video call in order to communicate more directly. Do you have the capacity to do so?"

Theresa's expression had morphed into one of puzzlement. She glanced at her laptop, laying on the coffee table next to Helena's own.

"Yeah, I do."

The woman on the other end wasn't put off by her confused tone. At least, if she was, it didn't show.

"Excellent! Would tomorrow at the same time be acceptable?"

Theresa paused, just long enough to turn the interaction a bit awkward. She and Helena stared at each other, mirroring the other's thoughts. Wasn't this supposed to be an organization run by holier-than-thou mages? Weren't they going to report to the Tower to send some taskforce or asset to deal with them as threats? After all the tension and fear, scheduling a video call seemed so...normal. Either there had been some kind of misunderstanding...or the higher ups of Chaldea were devious enough to lure them into a false sense of calm.

"Ms. Mcdonough?"

Shaking herself, Theresa replied.

"Yeah. Should be fine."

More keys clicked, the woman on the other end of the line humming in affirmation.

"Very good. I've scheduled your meeting. Director Archaman will be in contact with you tomorrow. In the meantime, is there anything else I can help you with?"

Theresa's confusion had yet to fade. She cocked her head, looking down at the phone as though the woman could see her bewilderment through the receiver.

"Uh...I have a question. This is Chaldea, right? The mage organization?"

The woman hummed pleasantly in affirmation.

"Correct, you have reached Chaldea. And yes, we are staffed predominantly by mages. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how much I am at liberty to discuss, and will leave that to the director. He'll have more information regarding our function, your potential duties, and the benefits included. Do you have any other questions?"

Again, the two women exchanged a glance, Theresa mouthing 'benefits?'. Helena shrugged slightly, looking just as puzzled.

"No, I don't have any other questions," Theresa said, "Thank you."

"Of course! We look forward to speaking with you. Have a lovely evening."

The receiver clicked and a dial tone sounded. Slowly, Theresa hung up as well, still frowning heavily. Helena blinked owlishly as she tried to process what had just happened.

"...Did I just schedule a job interview?" Theresa finally asked.

Helena considered this for a moment and then nodded once.

"That's certainly what it sounded like."

The tall woman stood, rubbing her forehead as though to force her thoughts into order. She was silent for a long moment, scowling at the floor as though it would give her answers.

"...What the hell?" she finally said.

Helena nodded again. That was a good response. It was what she was saying internally, too. What the hell had just happened? And what the hell had they gotten into?

Oh, look, I wrote something. Having a career is not conducive to writing. At least, not when you're in your first year. I had the first half of this chapter hanging out for a while and the new Fate Babylonia anime inspired me to finish it. In all honesty, I've got the entire storyline plotted, I just have no idea when the muse will strike again because I've got other projects going on.

Hope you enjoyed this little bit of demigod interaction. I'll remind you that this is an AU in which I've taken some artistic liberty with the lore, so it won't line up exactly. If that's not your thing, this isn't the fic for you :)

If it is your thing, feel free to drop a review!