For The Love Of A God by Rosanna Leo (ebook reader for comics .txt) 📕

For now, they could enjoy their little flirtation, such as it was.

But soon enough, Eryx would be hers. She'd waited an eternity for him to come to his senses, and would not be denied. She was willing to wait a little longer, but not forever.

Smiling to herself, she retreated back into the museum. She had work to do.

Eric led her into the hospice, conscious of how her pace was slowing down. She was terrified. Scared to allow hope to bloom only to have it ripped up from the roots.

"I appreciate you bringing me here,” she said.

"No big deal,” he grinned.

She turned to face him. “It's a huge deal. You don't understand. This isn't an easy place to visit."

It was true. With all the gurneys and IVs and frail patients haunting each room, it was dismal at best. He reached for her hand, anxious to comfort her.

"My dad's in rough shape,” she continued in a little, soul-searing voice. “He was always this big man, the noted archaeologist who lived for the dig. Full of life and energy. To lose the use of his hands was pretty much a death sentence. He gave up, and his health just went downhill."

Eric remembered seeing pictures of Jim Douglas when the Eryx statue was discovered. He had indeed looked larger than life, passionate about his work. To hear he'd been brought so low grieved him too. “Let's go see him, Maia."

She stopped outside her father's door. She was squeezing Eric's hand so hard his heart swelled for her. “It must be a mistake. What the nurse told me."

He smiled down at her, wanting to tell her everything would be okay. “Go in. You can do this."

Impulsively, she asked, “Will you come with me? I know I have no right to ask."

"Maia, I'm right behind you.” She looked so small and fragile, and he tried to shake off the temptation to kiss her again. It was very hard, now he'd permitted himself those two small, exquisite tastes.

She sighed, as if relieved to have his assurance, and opened the door. She poked her head in and gasped.

Jim Douglas was not in a hospital bed. He wasn't even in a wheelchair. He was standing, and a team of doctors were huddled around him, each one looking more befuddled than the last. Jim looked robust, despite the weight he'd lost over the years, and there was a healthy, happy glow in his eyes. He looked ready to take on the world.

He spied her. “Maia, my sweet pea! Look!” For her benefit, he spun around, and then made some jabs in the air, as if pretending to be a boxer. “I'm cured.” His voice was hoarse from not being used for so long, but otherwise enthusiastic.

Maia just stared, as if waiting for him to fall down.

"Now, now, Dr. Douglas,” one of the doctors interjected. “Let's not be hasty. We're still running tests."

"Tests, schmests.” Jim waved him off. “I've never felt better in my life. Come ‘ere, sweet pea. I haven't been able to hug my girl properly in years."

She crept into the room, clutching Eric's hand. “Daddy?” And then she ran to him and hugged him.

Eric watched them, overjoyed at his handiwork. He'd been a self-indulgent bastard for most of his life, absorbed in his own pleasure, but he'd given her this moment. And he couldn't believe how good it felt. Sure, he wasn't really supposed to mess with the cycle of life and all that crap, but if he couldn't use his powers for good, what the hell use were they?

Besides, it wasn't as if he'd raised Douglas from the dead, which was a no-no. He'd merely revitalized a sick man.

Jim looked up over Maia's shoulder and spied Eric leaning against the back wall of the room. His eyes widened, and he loosened his hold on his daughter. “You."

"Oh.” Maia looked up, embarrassed, and wiped her eyes. “Dad, this is my ... new boss. His name is Eric Lord."

"No, it's not.” Jim narrowed his eyes and stepped toward Eric. His expression was not one of suspicion, but wonder. “I know who you are."

Eric stood silently, gazing at the man.

Maia looked between the two men and then back at the team of doctors. “Um, Dad, maybe you need some rest. You don't want to tire yourself out.” She pulled on his arm.

Jim would not be dissuaded. He continued to stare at Eric, took him all in with a smile of joy. “You did this. Thank you."

Eric didn't say a word. He just smiled at Jim and then at Maia.

"Dr. Douglas,” one of the doctors said. “I must insist you come back to bed. Let's not take any chances."

With a laugh, Jim gave Maia another hug and returned to his bed. “Don't worry, Doc. It's just a little miracle."

The doctor went over to Maia, and Eric watched as they spoke quietly for a few moments. This was where he would tell her not to get her hopes up, to expect a relapse of some sort. Eric knew there would be no relapse. Jim was indeed cured, but the doctors would never discover how.

After a while, they left, and Maia stood still outside her father's door. She was shaking, and he couldn't resist encircling her with his arms. Upon his touch, he felt her body tense and then relax, as if she somehow belonged there and had just realized it. He ran his hands over her hair, breathed in her baby powder fragrance, and kissed the top of her head.

She felt so good. He almost didn't know why he was fighting against this so much. Maybe there was a reason for Maia Douglas being in his life. And if he couldn't use his godly powers to make her happy, why be a god at all?

If only he knew what had happened on the museum steps. He didn't like it. His heart wanted to believe she'd taken an innocent tumble, lost her footing, but he recognized the handiwork of Nemesis.