Chapter Text
Los Angeles was restless.
To a goddess, cities spoke in pulses—heartbeat rhythms only the divine could feel. Athena walked its streets in mortal skin, each step tapping into the city’s bloodstream. Traffic lights blinked like eyelids too tired to stay open. Sirens wailed as if mourning. People passed her without knowing they were in the presence of something ancient.
She liked it that way.
This time, she didn’t come as the goddess of war. She came as a woman as Athena. A sergeant’s jacket hung over her shoulders, her boots were scuffed, and she carried herself like someone used to shadows.
The world didn’t need gods today.
But it might need her.
She didn’t know what she was looking for.
She usually didn’t spend this much time on earth, however Mount Olympus wasn’t feeling like home anymore.
So here she was as a 29 year old Sargent.
Here she could be happy.
Here she could decide who she was.
So here she stayed.
Then she saw him.
He was not extraordinary.
That was the most extraordinary thing about him.
She saw him for the first time at the edge of a street, crouched beside a woman whose car had spun into a light pole. He was in jeans and a dark flannel shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow. He spoke low and calm, pressing gauze to her forehead, anchoring her in the moment.
Athena paused across the intersection, her senses sharpening.
He didn’t yell. Didn’t command. He simply… steadied.
She waited. Watched.
A fire engine arrived moments later—Station 118. He rose and greeted the crew, then stepped back without fanfare, disappearing around the corner.
She followed him.
Until they reached the firehouse.
So that's why he knew the crew.
The next day, she returned.
He was sitting on the firehouse steps this time, sipping from a dented thermos. His eyes scanned the street, not idly, but purposefully—like he was always watching. Always ready. Not the kind of ready born from ego, but from experience.
She came back again. And again.
He never noticed her.
On the fifth day, he did.
He walked over to her, slowly but purposefully.
She pretended not to notice. She was curious.
“You’re not lost,” he said from the sidewalk, not unkindly. Just so.
Athena turned. He stood just a few feet away, arms crossed lightly, the hint of a smile playing at his mouth.
“I beg your pardon?” she replied, matching his tone.
“You’ve been across the street four days in a row. Same spot. Same time. Most people walking that much either work around here or they’re lost. But you don’t look like either.”
He wasn’t wrong. Despite her human form having a job she wasn’t working nearby.
Athena let a pause bloom between them before answering. “Maybe I just like fire stations.”
“Most people take a tour if they’re that curious,” he replied.
She smiled. “Maybe I’m not most people.”
He nodded once. “I’ll buy you coffee if you’re planning on sticking around.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Is that how you lure strangers into conversation?”
“No,” he said easily. “That’s how I learn their names.”
She stared at him for a moment, then stepped forward and held out her hand.
“Athena,” “Athena Carter”
He shook it gently. “Bobby.”
They met again the next morning.
Coffee. No expectations.
They sat on a bench near a corner bakery, steam curling from mismatched cups. He liked his plain—black and bitter. She took hers with too much sugar and didn’t explain why.
He didn’t ask her.
They talked about the weather first.
“It’s a lovely day today.”
“Zues must be in a good mood.”
Bobby turned to look at her and raised an eyebrow.
Sure he was catholic and he knew she didn't know that, however he didn't really think anyone really believed in the greek gods.
She shrugged and replied
“Not a believer?”
“I am.”
That's all he said and that's all she asked.
Then the conversation moved to the street vendor across the road with too many wind chimes.
“No one needs that many, and more importantly not that many people are going to buy them.”
“You just want them to stop making noise.” Athena said.
“I- well yes but…” He trailed off. His cheeks flush a light red.
She smiled and moved the conversation again.
Later after they finished talking they agreed to meet again.
It took three more meetings before either of them mentioned anything real.
“I grew up in Minnesota," Bobby said one afternoon, staring across traffic. “Didn’t see the ocean till I was twenty. Smelled it before I saw it.”
Athena sipped her drink. “Did it disappoint you?”
“No. It was just… big. Bigger than I expected. Made everything I’d been carrying feel smaller for a minute.”
She nodded. “Sometimes, that’s what we need. Something bigger than us.”
“Are you speaking from experience?” He asked.
Athena turned and smiled. She wasn't really. She was usually the “something bigger.” She did understand. How finding something bigger makes you feel less burdened. Maybe you really are
“Something like that.”
He looked at her then—not with suspicion, but understanding. Like he knew she’d seen oceans far more ancient than the one he described.
They didn’t speak again for a long time.
The routine became unspoken.
They met in the mornings when he was off-shift. Some days on the firehouse steps, some days at the park, some days walking nowhere at all.
He learned that she liked maps but hated using GPS. That she had a thing for Skittles and always carried a pack in her coat pocket. That she didn’t talk about her family.
She learned that he was a captain. That he loved to cook and often made too much. That he was quiet because words, when used, should mean something.
Neither of them named what was happening between them.
It was too soon.
But Athena began waking up wondering what he was doing. Bobby found himself saving extra coffee in case she showed up.
One afternoon, as sunlight filtered through palm trees and laid gold across the pavement, Bobby turned toward her and asked softly, “Do you believe people get more than one chance?”
She didn’t respond right away.
“I believe people get what they fight for,” she said. “But not everyone knows what they’re fighting for until it’s almost too late.”
He nodded. “I used to think I’d ruined all my chances. That I was still breathing out of stubbornness, not grace.”
Athena tilted her head. “What changed?”
“I met someone who made me want to keep showing up.”
She didn’t ask who. And he didn’t elaborate.
But she knew, instinctively,
He was talking about her.
This was bigger than romance.
It was about recovery.
Redemption.
One evening, Athena arrived later than usual.
Bobby was sitting on the steps, fingers loosely knotted between his knees, eyes distant.
She sat beside him without a word.
The air was different. Heavy.
“They pulled a kid out of a fire today,” he said finally.
“Did he make it?”
Bobby shook his head. “Four years old. Couldn’t reach him in time. I keep going over it in my head like I missed something, but… I didn’t. Sometimes there’s just—nothing.”
Athena’s throat tightened.
“It’s part of the job isn’t it?”
“What is losing people?”
“No. well yes but im referring the the curse of the first responders.”
“Born to save everyone. Forced to save who we can.”
Bobby blinked then turned to look at her.
“I guess it is.” He replied.
Her words had helped but he was still in his own head.
So she decided to share one more thing.
“I used to think I had all the answers,” she murmured. “Thought if I stood strong enough, no one would break. But I’ve seen enough now to know… sometimes the world just cracks.”
He looked at her, again—really looked. Like her words had unlocked a part of him he rarely let anyone see.
She reached into her coat, pulled out the small pack of Skittles, and handed it to him.
He chuckled faintly. “You sharing these now?”
“Just one. That’s your ration.”
He took the green one and held it like it meant something.
Maybe it did.
The sun dipped low behind them, the streetlight flickering on with a buzz.
Athena turned to him and said quietly, “Do you ever feel like you’re standing in two worlds at once?”
Bobby blinked. “Sometimes. Like… who I used to be and who I’m trying to be now are both still in the room.”
She nodded, staring straight ahead. “I know what that feels like.”
For a long while, neither of them spoke.
And then Bobby leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes on the horizon.
“I don’t know who you were before this,” he said. “But whoever you are now… I like her.”
The words landed somewhere deep in her chest. Not romantic. Not yet.
But honest.
Grounded.
And maybe—just maybe—the beginning of something more.