δυο: Day by Day, Watch by Watch

Present Day: Crete, July 2008

The humid Greek sun bore down on Theodore's back and he took a swig of his water to cure his thirst. His fellow archeologists around him had the looks of those proud of their accomplishment, and they should have. To discover an ancient town on the northern coast of Crete was going to shake the world of archeology as they knew it. A few ancient homes stood products of three years of excavation.

An excavation that Theodore Lowsely himself had funded. Theodore was a man born and raised in the city of Birmingham, England. His father had been a professor at the university for Classics and Ancient History. When he was young, his father had brought home many a Roman, Egyptian, and Greek artifact. The ancient civilizations all fascinated him, but one had stood beyond the others and sparked his imagination: Ancient Greece.

His father fueled his obsession by buying him The Iliad and The Odyssey. He spent hours reading an rereading the poems to the point their covers were hanging limp. His passion only grew after that. While other young boys his age were outside playing ball, he was inside with his father, studying the rich Greek mythology. He grinned, nostalgic.

His father had long since passed on, but his love of Greece lived on in his son. Theodore capped his water and turned to his companions.

"Alright guys, you can take a break."

He watched, amused, as they all headed for their water bottles. It was an abnormally hot day. The only relief that came their way was an occasional whisper of wind that lessened their suffering, but not by much. Something was going to happen, he could just feel it. I have to look around some more. Rest be damned, he thought nodding grimly.

There was one house left that they had not yet explored. A once white structure that was now gray and flecked with spots of ecru clay. It was smaller than the other homes and was more near the outskirts of town.

Theodore had concluded at once that whoever had lived there was a lone soul who preferred seclusion than the interaction of people around them, Theodore could sympathize with that. His heart beat rapidly against his ribs as he stepped inside the house, with a pick ax in his back pocket. While excavating, they found several items that led to more knowledge about the resident. However, they had not searched it fully. He took his pick ax out of his pocket and eased down to the floor, scanning the rocky dirt below him. Spotting a peculiar spot, he began to carefully dig at it. Minutes later, he heard a sharp sound and knew he had struck gold.

He brushed away the dirt to find a sandpaper colored top. He hammered around until the ground around it caved in revealing an amphora, a storage jug. His eyes were bright with excitement and he gripped at the handles and pulled with all his strength, using a rock beside his foot for leverage. He pulled out the jug with a grunt, and a shower of loose dirt rained down on him. The cover flew off and landed somewhere over his shoulder.

Theodore cringed considerably and walked over to the now cracked top, cursing his enthusiasm. It was salvageable, but just barley. He settled down upon the dirt floor and inspected the container itself for any kinds of damage. Luckily, there was none.

As he wiped the sweat off his brow, he peered inside and saw several pieces of papyrus. Each page had faded black writing and several unraveled threads. Despite this they were in better condition than most writings from the age he had seen due to their underground preservation. They only needed restoration and to be finally translated and Theodore volunteered himself for the job.

-----

For many days and nights he spent hours translating the pages and restoring them to their former glory. Bit by bit, word by word, the story within the pages began to unravel leaving Theodore intrigued. To think that Helen had a son of Troy, it was unthinkable, scandalous, and completely revolutionary. It was his crowning achievement.

At the age of 29, he was a bachelor. He had no need for any human interaction beyond his students, fellow archaeologists, and an old flame from his college years. He was not an ugly man by any means, just average with mousy brown hair, eyes, and a square jaw. He had had many admirers over the years but none had captured his imagination or held his attention for long like his work although, he had one that might have been close. He figured everything was better this way; his social skills were deplorable, to say the least.

Years went by and he stayed in the past, immersed in his research. Many of his colleagues called him insane but he laughed them away. They didn't touch the papyrus, feel their textures, or read the rich story within. However, something bothered him about the text, it had no author and it felt oddly familiar to him, like an old friend.

When searching about the other houses they had found nothing as to who the recluse man was. It was a puzzling mystery and no matter how many times he went back to that home he could not find a thing about the man who lived there besides the story. Nor had he found an appropriate title for the work seeing as it had been left nameless with just the main text laid bare to the world.

Potential titles piled up beside his desk in the rubbish bin before he finally settled on Abaddon, after the protagonist of the tragic tale. Perfect.

Theodore laid back in his chair, exhausted from the night's endless work. He finally had a title for the thing, now what? His cellphone began to ring and he picked it up without question with a mild sense of annoyance. The damn thing had been ringing off the hook for the past several months. He kept it on only to keep himself updated on potential publishers. None had bitten the bullet yet, but he was sure there was one out there with literary integrity.

"Hello," Theodore said into the receiver and looked down at the caller I.D. Unknown number, how odd.

"Theodore where the hell have you been?"

That snotty tone. It had to be his old college friend. He must be calling from a new number.

"James," Theodore found himself smiling. "How are you?"

"Don't even attempt to change the subject," The man sounded like he was ready to kill someone. Theodore swallowed hard. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I've been sort of busy working and it's not as if you don't know where I live you ponce. All you had to do was ring my door bell--" he began.

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT! I read the newspaper. I'm not blind. You could have at least called me to let me know how you were doing."

He rubbed his neck nervously and peered towards the manuscript on his desk. He had a feeling of dread swell up in his stomach. Had all those anonymous calls had been James. Oh dear.

"Well you weren't exactly easy to find yourself. Is this not a new number you're calling from?" Theodore replied cheekily.

"This is my office phone. I'm only calling you from here because you have an issue answering even when I do use my cellular." So his thoughts had been correct. God, what an arse he was.

"You don't have to worry. I'm doing fine," Theodore replied. "Look, I got something for you to look at. Maybe we can grab a bite afterwards if you're game?"

There was silence on the other line for a moment. Theodore had to check if James was still on the line.

"That myth of yours?"

"Yeah, that."

"Okay fine," A heavy sigh was heard on the other line. "Bring it in tomorrow. I'll be in my office. My secretary will ring you up."

"Thank you old friend," Theodore was so sure the man was going to refuse.

"Don't mention it. Just promise me something."

"Yeah, what?"

"Promise me you won't disappear on me again."

Theodore halted his celebratory spin in his chair. James... That melancholy tone said it all. He bit his lip, sobering instantly. How many times have you heard that tone? How many times are you going to cause him disappointment?

"I give you my word."