AUTHOR'S NOTE: This episode of Kirra's Journey is a fanfic rewrite of the original season three Hercules the Legendary Journeys episode "Doomsday." I've done my best not to take too many liberties with this episode, as it was written originally by Brian Herskowitz, who wrote several season three episodes of HTLJ. However, there are places where I have reused or re-purposed the original dialog. There are parts that I believe just cannot be changed. They are a part of what I like to call "show history." Still, I have altered some aspects of the story where geography and real Greek history are concerned. I like mixing some truth with the chaotic history from the Hercules and Xena shows. You know how those shows are. The history in their world is all over the place.

Nevertheless, I believe what I've written enhances the original, hangs upon its framework and fills in the blanks. I think you'll like it. I've rehashed several characters from the original, given them a greater part in the story, as well as added a couple of original characters—Kirra, of course, and a few others.

When I write, I let the characters speak to me. They tell me, in essence, what direction the story is going to take. I had a basic idea. I knew I wanted to flow with the original episode, but some of my characters did things I didn't expect and new characters, that I did not expect to find, revealed themselves as I wrote. I'm both surprised and pleased with the results. I really hope you guys like this one, because I poured a lot of soul into it.

Also, make sure you've read the preceding short story Of Scribes and Heroes, before you read this one. And, if you haven't done so yet, reacquaint yourself with the "Doomsday" episode before reading chapter two. I think you'll better appreciate what I've done here in this rewrite. The only references to previous episodes are "The Wrong Path," "Mercenary" and "Love Takes a Holiday" if you'd like to go back and watch them, too.

Enjoy!

Kirra's Journey

Episode 3 – Outsider Looking In

Chapter 1

She was young, barely out of her teens. Hercules guessed her to be eighteen, maybe nineteen. Young enough in his estimation to live with her parents, and she likely did. It wasn't her age that bothered him. It was the unabashed smile she threw his way while handing him a ladle of water.

He courteously accepted the ladle. It was warm out this afternoon and the cool water was welcoming, as was her prettiness. "Thank you," he said with a smile that brought a blush to her cheeks.

"You're welcome, Hercules." She gave a quick curtsy and a nervous smile, and went back to work with the women filling hopsacks with sand.

The half-god shook his head, laughing to himself as the young woman strolled away. He had yet to understand what he did to cause such a reaction with women, young or old. Iolaus wasn't with him this day, but it didn't mean he couldn't hear him say, "You're Hercules! Women love you!"

Maybe, but Hercules never saw himself as particularly special. Surely, there were other men with better skills at charming women than him. How could a simple thank you make a young woman blush? A perplexing problem, one Hercules frequently chalked up to celebrity. Many stories had passed from mouth to mouth about his life and his labors. There weren't many people who did not know of Hercules, son of Zeus. When the stories of his famous battles managed to make their circuit around Greece and reached his own ears, the truth of the matter had strayed so far from actual events as to be comical. More comical were the people who believed them.

Hercules hoped it wasn't his name alone and the sometimes-fantastical nature of his life that brought out the overzealous reactions in the people he met. He hoped it was something simpler, he hoped their response was due to who he was as a person. He strived to treat others as he would like to be treated, with a giving spirit and a compassion they might not receive from those who govern them. There wasn't a man, woman or child in the known world who didn't appreciate being shown kindness.

If that garnered him more attention than was necessary, so be it. There wasn't much he could do about it. He chose to give of himself and go the extra mile others might not be willing to go. He wanted the people to see he was as human as they were. After a rather harrowing trip to Sparta, it was the reason he had traveled all the way to Nesimus.

Last year at this time, he and Iolaus were plucking entire families from the roofs of their homes and out of tree branches. The rains had forced the river to break its banks and the village of Nesimus had become inundated. It was only by chance he and Iolaus had even been in the area. They had been off to put a stop to two warring factions in an eastern district when heavy rains and flooding nearly swept them out of their camp.

The whole ordeal had been rough, but there were good memories in with the bad. His fondest was watching as Iolaus returned a lost child to the outstretched arms of his mother and father. Iolaus had grown quite attached to the boy after he had rescued him. So much so, he had difficulty handing him over. Hercules had seen the future father in Iolaus that night and hoped one day he would have the opportunity to experience it. Being a father is a feeling like none other, and Hercules missed it desperately.

When it was over and they had begun to help the people of Nesimus to rebuild their lives, Hercules had promised to return and help them prepare before the rains came again. He only wished Iolaus had decided to join him. They parted ways outside of Corinth. Iolaus had begged off, saying he needed to visit his mother. And maybe he did, but Hercules had a feeling Iolaus wasn't interested in sandbagging a river. Maybe, too, his heart ached a bit at the memory of the little boy, whose name Hercules couldn't quite remember.

Hercules handed the ladle off to the next man, who thanked him with a nod. Sadly, there was no pretty young woman to hand this man a ladle of water. Just a well-traveled and weary hero with a penchant for helping the helpless.

He made his way to a wagon loaded with ready sandbags. Two men stood poised at the edge of the wagon, waiting to hand off the next load. Hercules extended his arms, and the men loaded him down with several large bags. He smiled as best he could through the strain of the weight in his arms and walked the distance to the river's edge.

Reaching his destination, Hercules set the bags down on the ground to better situate them on the pile one at a time. As he did, he began thinking about home and his mother. Right about this time, she would be readying the new crops and hiring the same men she hired every year for the task—husbands and fathers needing the extra work to feed their families.

He placed the last bag on the pile. Thoughts of mother led him to thinking about Kirra. What might she being doing right now? Mother would be keeping her busy with chores no doubt. Hercules wondered how she got along there. He wondered if she had comfortably settled in or if she was still homesick. He took a second before returning to the wagon to stare out over the river. It was pretty here. The shady trees, the tall grasses and oceans of different colored wild flowers, but it wasn't home. He had to admit, he was a little homesick himself.

Well, back to work. It was the best thing to do. Reminiscing about home wouldn't bring it any closer.

Returning to the wagon, Hercules sensed a presence at his side and felt a hand warmly pat his back. It was Nan, Nesimus's village leader. The man gave him a jubilant smile. The prospect of making it through the flood months without incident had him beyond hopeful.

"How can we repay you, Hercules? Without your help, we could never have finished before the floods."

Hercules responded as only Hercules would—with humility. He patted the old man on the shoulder. "I only made the suggestion, Nan. Your people are doing most of the work."

Nan stopped and took Hercules's hand in a firm handshake. "All the same, we do thank you, and we will repay you."

"It's not necessary. I'm glad to help."

Hercules couldn't have dissuaded the village leader even if he wanted to. He smiled and shook his head at Nan who walked away to continue overseeing the project. Hercules, as well, continued on his path toward the wagon for another armload, a satisfied grin firmly in place.

"Hey thanks, Hercules!" said another villager.

"My pleasure," he said and stretched out his arms to receive another load. The two men hefted three bags one at a time into his waiting arms. He thanked them, the strain of the weight evident in his voice, and turned back toward the river. The bags may have been heavy (wet sand usually was), but the work didn't bother him. To Hercules, the only feeling that came a close second to being a father was the sight of happy faces and knowing his positive actions were the reason for it.

Understandably, the next words he heard from crowd threw him for a loop.

"So ... you're the Great Hercules?"

The words were said with such contempt Hercules stopped short his trek towards the river's edge. Though the voice sounded familiar, he couldn't imagine who it might be until he turned and was able to match the familiar voice to a much beloved face.

Kirra stood several yards away from him, her arms akimbo. His first thought was, What's Kirra doing here? until he realized she was glaring at him. Hercules no longer knew what to think. She was a far prettier (and a far more welcome) sight than the young woman who offered him the ladle of water, though a stern expression marred her pretty countenance.

His grinned at her, though cautiously, for he had seen her angry before.

"I've heard a lot about you, Hercules. If, of course, you are indeed the Hercules. But this…" She pointed at the sandbags in his arms. "I would hardly call manual labor under a hot sun legendary, not for one who claims to be the son of Zeus."

A glimmer of the Kirra he knew shown in her eyes and kicked his brain into gear. They hadn't seen each other in what seemed like ages, and instead of greeting him with what undoubtedly would have been an overenthusiastic hug and the awkward words 'I missed you,' she chose to play him. Hercules decided he would play along.

Dropping his grin, he continued on his way toward the river's edge. "I'm sorry. You are...?"

"I'm Kirra of Endor," she said, following close behind him.

Hercules set the bags upon the pile. Did he detect a note of anxiety in her voice?

Once he'd situated the bags into position, he turned to face her, expertly hiding the smile that teased the corners of his mouth. "And what exactly do you do, Kirra of Endor?"

That he played along had Kirra's heart racing from sheer happiness. She too had to keep her lips from tugging upward. He remembered her. He wasn't angry to see her standing before him miles away from the last place they had seen each other. And if his demeanor was any indication, he missed her company has much as she had missed him.

Now, however, he had her at a difficult impasse. How should she answer? How to keep up this silly game? "Wait, I'm thinking..."

Lost in her thoughts, Kirra didn't see Hercules lower his head, incapable of keeping a straight face. Her mind was too fuddled with his presence. She could think of only one person, the one who had abandoned her on the road, the one she had worked so hard to keep from standing in this very spot.

"Oh, yes. I am a scribe."

That was it. Hercules could contain his laughter no longer. He had to turn away and return to the wagon which promised to keep him busy the rest of the day. Kirra followed close behind him, though, her quick steps trying to keep up with his long stride.

Once he had reasonably controlled himself, he said, "I see. And what exactly does a scribe do?"

Hercules already knew the answer. He'd run into a number of scribes in his time and rarely were his encounters with them pleasant. But, for the sake of Kirra's game, he asked, and he really wanted to hear her reply.

Kirra took a deep breath. "Well, I discover news worthy events by listening to blathering gossip, follow this news wherever it may take me, badger people to death until they tell me the truth and ... I write about it."

"Sounds exciting." Hercules could barely keep the snigger from his voice. He waited with arms extended for another load of sandbags.

"It is! It involves a lot of traveling and a knack for asking a lot of annoying questions. Which, according to some people, I happen to be very good at."

Feeling the weight of the sandbags bearing down on his arms, he began to head back for the river's edge. Her quick steps were behind him. Better she not see the smile that had spread across his face.

"Anyway, I overheard the great Hercules was rerouting a river, so I came to see what the fuss was about. A woman from Corinth told me about it. I found it to be rather strange, because she claimed to be your mother."

Setting down the bags, Hercules asked, "Did she now?"

"Yes, and apparently, this whole 'rerouting-a-river' business is a huge load of ... you know. Because here you are sandbagging in an attempt to keep the rising river at bay. How does sandbagging get translated into rerouting?"

"Well, Kirra of Endor, 'blathering gossip' as you call it, often translates into exaggeration." Hercules started walking back to wagon. "I guess it's what people do."

"And what of the tale of you killing a giant sea monster with your bare hands—was that an exaggeration?"

"Well, that one's mostly true."

"Ah, I see. A pattern of mythological proportions is developing here. What of the ridiculous story of the two-headed Hydra?"

Three more sandbags in his arms and another trek to the river's edge. "That one they got wrong."

"Ah-ha!"

"It had three heads."

Kirra stopped in her tracks while Hercules continued walking. "Did it really? How did I not know that?"

She looked up to see Hercules was nearly at the river's edge. She followed at a slight run. "Well now, you see, these half truths would never have happened had I been there to record the events through the magic of song and lyric!"

Hercules once again set down the sandbags, but this time he turned to her in doubt. "Song and lyric?"

"Well, yes," she said with a crooked grin, unsettled by his incredulous question.

Hercules finally broke character, not able to continue the charade. His feigned skeptic frown melted into a warm smile and he grabbed Kirra up in his arms, lifting her off the ground.

Only seconds ago, Kirra had been staring up at the half-god. Now, she found herself staring down at him. He spun her through the air as he had that day in Attilas when she turned down the King's offer. She screamed with fright and exhilaration, holding onto his shoulders in a death-grip, delighted with his reaction. How could she have worried he would be angry with her? How childish her thoughts had been.

"It is so good to see you!"

Staring up into her face, only then did it sink in how much he missed the girl. Her bright smile, her appetite for life and that giggle of hers—seeing her again brought back old feelings of home and happiness. Hercules couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it was like walking the gravel pathway to his old house and seeing Deianeira and the kids come running out the door to greet him. Though, Kirra managed to ruin the moment in seconds.

"Eww! Put me down! You're sweaty and you stink!"

Embarrassed, but glad he had set her feet firmly on the ground, Kirra sheepishly looked back at Hercules with a self-conscious smile. "I missed you, too."

With a grin he couldn't possibly remove from his face, Hercules asked, "What are you doing here? How did you get here?"

Kirra hesitantly shrugged her shoulders. "Corinth bored me," she said. "And you're mother did tell me where to find you. So, I decided to take a little trip on my own."

"On your own?"

Hercules's smile fell as she figured it might.

"Well, why not? I had a very capable map, my comfortable walking boots and an itch to get out of the house."

"Are you sure that was a good idea?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Look at me. I was quite safe."

Hercules took her advice and looked at her. Kirra spoke too soon. His eyes went from her disheveled hair to her mud-splattered and tattered dress. "You look like you've been through the wringer. What happened? Is everything all right?"

Kirra swiped a nonchalant hand at him. "Yes, everything is fine."

"Where are Mother and Jason?"

"Home in Corinth."

Her indifference on the subject did not stop Hercules from reprimanding her with his eyes. "Kirra, you should have gotten Jason or someone to travel with you. Iolaus was in the area recently. I'm sure he wouldn't have minded—"

"No, thank you," she retorted quickly, hoping to stop that conversation in its tracks. "There's no need for you to worry. I had a traveling companion for most of my trip. I met a perfectly nice woman along the road. Actually, she's the scribe. We talked the whole while and got on quite nicely. Nothing bad happened."

Hercules sighed. "That's not the point."

"Then what is the point?" Once again, the arms were akimbo and she voiced her question with something akin to contempt. Only this time Kirra wasn't pretending.

"The point is..." Hercules began in the hopes of placating her, but the look on her face placated him instead. "I don't know what the point is."

Annoyed, Hercules headed back to the wagon.

So much for not making him angry, Kirra thought, and pattered after him.

"You're worrying for nothing, Hercules. I seriously doubt every day and every location brings with it dire circumstances or dangerous situations."

Kirra stopped in her tracks when Hercules came to a halt and stared at her. Then, he picked up the pace again.

"Well, it's true," she continued. "Not once did we encounter any sort of evil. In fact, our journey was pleasant, quiet even."

Hercules had a bad feeling that was about to change. Perhaps the very reason her journey had been pleasant and quiet was because she hadn't been with him. It got him to wondering about the person she traveled with.

He stopped at the wagon. "Who did you say you traveled with?"

"A scribe. She called herself Katrina of Katea." The memory of their conversation, and Katrina's story that Hercules's friend Daedalus had caused the death of his own son, returned. "She said she was on her way to the capital city of Euboea and hoped to find you along the way."

"What's there?"

Kirra hesitated. Did he know? "A man named Daedalus. Don't you know him?"

Another set of sandbags landed into Hercules's waiting arms. He turned to her with a frown. "Yeah, he's a good friend of mine. I haven't seen him in ages, though."

"I've always wanted to meet him. I've heard so much about him, and not only in connection with you. He seems like a fascinating person. What's he like?"

"He's probably the smartest man I know," he said as he walked back to the bank.

"That's it?" Kirra asked with a tentative laugh. "You can do better than that, Hercules. Tell me something I don't know."

"That depends."

"On what?"

Hercules looked back at her, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. "On what you don't know."

It pleased her to see something of a smile on his face, but it didn't still her worry. She couldn't tell whether news of Daedalus had reached him or not. "Oh, please. I may claim to know everything about you, but it doesn't mean I do."

Hercules would have laughed when Kirra averted her eyes had he thought she'd done so in embarrassment. But there was something more pressing in her manner. She had begun to wring her hands.

He set the bags down and turned to face her. "Kirra, what is it? What did the scribe want with Daedalus?"

A sudden guilt hit her square in the chest. "Oh, Hercules. You haven't heard."

"Heard what?"

"I'm sorry you have to find out this way."

Kirra turned away, reluctant to speak it, but Hercules grasped both of her shoulders in his hands.

"Kirra, what are you talking about?"

"The scribe, she said…"

"Yes?"

"She told me the reason she was heading to Euboea was because she heard that Daedalus's son, Icarus … is dead."

Hercules dropped his hands and backed away. He looked as if someone had punched him and Kirra felt like that someone.

"Dead?"

"Yes." The worst part of the tale was yet to come and Kirra had no idea how to say it. There was no better way than to... "And she's claiming Daedalus is the one who killed him."

Kirra couldn't stop wringing her hands or fidgeting with her skirts or pulling at her curls while Hercules made his apologies to the village leader of Nesimus. He had made his decision not long after she relayed the story the scribe had told her. She felt bad enough for having to be the one to give him bad news. Now, it was worse. Hercules was going to leave the people to finish the job of sandbagging the river on their own.

"I know this is bad timing, Nan," Hercules said, regret plastered to his face. "But, I need to visit a friend. He may need my help. He's not far from here in the capital city."

"Ah, yes, Chalcis," Nan replied with a nod.

Kirra didn't know much about Chalcis or its inhabitants, but she could gather from Nan's bewildered expression that he did not hold them in high regard.

"I understand," Nan said. Kirra wasn't sure if he really did, but he didn't argue. "Please, go and help your friend."

"I'm sorry about this, Nan. I promise you, I'll be back well before the rains come."

The idea of leaving the people behind to continue the work he promised to help complete ate at Hercules. His only consolation was Nan seemed to appreciate his predicament. The village leader and his subjects were capable of continuing through the evening. However, they were counting on his strength and knowledge to help them see the task through to its completion. Promise or not, Hercules left them with instructions on how they should proceed in case he didn't make it back in time.

Kirra watched from the sidelines as Hercules instructed the village leader and some of his more capable men on what they needed to accomplish before his return. A few rounds of handshakes and well wishes, and Hercules returned to Kirra's side, his warm smile irrevocably lost. Remorse and sorrow now clouded his features. He tried to smile for her sake, but it was a pitiable attempt. Kirra felt bad for him and was not too proud of herself.

"I'm sorry, Hercules. I wish I hadn't given you the horrible news."

He dismissed her worry with a wave of his hand. "Don't be. I'm sure I would have found out one way or another."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes, there is. Tell me more about this scribe. Did she say when this happened?"

"No, not to me. She only told me Daedalus used his son to test some kind of flying device, but something went wrong."

Hope reappeared in Hercules's eyes. "Then, it was an accident. Daedalus didn't actually kill him."

"I don't know," Kirra said apologetically, shrugging her shoulders. She didn't want to fill him with a false hope if indeed the scribe's story was true. "It does seem as if it was just an accident, but the scribe, the way she told the story made it seem as if your friend Daedalus was responsible."

His hope vanished. "What did she say?"

This was the last thing she wanted to convey to Hercules. "That he's living in Chalcis, employed by the king himself to create weapons for his army."

Hercules's brows came together in a deep frown and met her eyes pointedly. "No. That's not the Daedalus I know. If he discovered his invention could harm someone, he would dismantle it or destroy it immediately. I don't care what this scribe says. She has her story wrong. I need to see Daedalus and set this straight, if only for his reputation."

"You're headed for the capital city, then?" Kirra didn't like the note of desperation in her voice.

"Yeah. It's not too far from here. I should be able to get there before nightfall. I can talk to Daedalus, see how he's doing and get the real story."

Seeing as how she had come all the way out here to see him, and how despondent she appeared at the idea of his leaving, Hercules decided he had better take Kirra with him. For her own sake, at least. He could keep an eye on her and make sure she didn't get into any trouble.

Who was he kidding? He hadn't seen her in what felt like an eternity. Having her here, even if he didn't approve of how she got here, was like having a light in the darkness. Bad news was never an easy thing to hear, but it always came softer from a friend than from a stranger. Hercules was glad of her company.

"You're welcome to come along," he added.

Kirra looked up at him, hopeful, but she also didn't want to be a burden. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he told her. "Unless, you'd like to stay and help sandbag." Despite the situation, Hercules laughed. Kirra's sudden frown tickled his funny bone. "I'm joking."

"Oh," Kirra said with some relief. If it were what Hercules would have wanted of her, she would have obliged him, but the idea of sandbagging a river was not to her fancy. "Not very funny."

He continued to laugh as he put an arm around Kirra's shoulders, turning her in the direction of the road. "It is definitely good to see you again, Kirra."

"You, too." She smiled up at him, happy to see the smile returning to his face. How she had missed him!

"What has it been? Three, four months?"

"Something like that."

"And, you decided to come looking for me because…?"

Kirra dropped her gaze self-consciously. Her cheeks burned and he had to know why. He must have thought her completely daft!

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