Published July 27, 2021

Content warning: This chapter deals with death, and accompanying those who are dying. If this is a triggering subject for you, approach with caution.

"Crazy"

By the time Phil reached the seaport, his hurt feelings had made way for safer, more familiar emotions: disappointment, bitterness, and anger. He was angry at everyone, really: Hercules, Meg, the smoky skeleton guy she worked for, and even the gods themselves, though he managed to bite back any curses or grumbling against them. He knew better than to voice such thoughts after what had happened the last time he made fun of Zeus, and storm clouds were already brewing in the sky.

He just didn't see why he—or, rather, his students—had to keep failing so spectacularly, coming so close only to fall so far. He didn't see why the heroes he trained—each one bright and talented in his own way—had to keep falling victim to their own weaknesses. Maybe he was cursed, and his students' downfalls were his punishment for having such high aspirations.

Or maybe it was a human thing. Maybe humans just weren't capable of real heroism. Every one of them had some weakness—physical, mental, moral, whatever. Maybe that was why Hercules was so eager to become a god and essentially give up his humanity, to escape that inherent imperfection. Only that didn't seem to be high on his priorities anymore, since she had gotten her claws in him. That was even harder to swallow: Hercules' downfall wouldn't be at the hands of a monster, or a warrior, or a god, but an ordinary, backstabbing woman.

Phil was still stewing over this latest, greatest failure when Meg and Pegasus found him. He was less than sympathetic with Meg as she entreated him to talk to Hercules. But Pegasus cut off his path, glaring and whinnying angrily at him. That was different: Pegasus had always disliked and distrusted Meg just as much as Phil; something big must have happened to make him willing to cooperate with her.

Meg pleaded with him. "Look, I know what I did was wrong, but this isn't about me, it's about him! If you don't help him now, Phil, he'll die."

That stopped Phil in his hooftracks.

With every other would-be hero he had trained, there hadn't been anything he could do to help them in the end. He had lost too many of them to the Underworld too soon. He was not going to let Hercules be just one more, if it was in his power to stop it. The kid deserved better.

He still didn't like or trust this dame, but he was willing to take a chance on her if it would mean saving his last hope.

The captain of the ship he had been about to board called for the last stragglers. Phil turned and shouted back: "Shove off without me!" He refused Meg's outstretched hand, and wouldn't sit with her on the Pegasus's back, but clambered onto the horse's head. Pegasus neighed mightily and took to the sky again.

It was not easy to carry a conversation while flying through a thunderstorm, but they managed to catch up on the essential details. "So what kind of trouble is Herc in, other than you?"

Meg's answer was succinct, though no less urgent: "Hades tricked him into trading away his strength, and sent the Cyclops after him."

"Hades? That's the guy you were with in the garden?" Maybe he should not have been surprised, considering Hercules was a demigod; but that made all of this a much bigger deal than he had realized.

"You saw him there?"

"Yeah, I heard him say something about you serving him Herc's head on a platter."

"Did you hear me say I wouldn't help him anymore?"

Phil snorted. "No, I guess I conveniently missed that part!"

"Terrific," Meg scowled.

"So how'd a nice girl like you end up working for a jerk like Hades, and jilting the most guileless heartthrob in Greece?"

Meg shot him an annoyed look. "You really want the whole story? I just had to relive it for Hercules."

"Yeah, I want to hear it, 'cause I don't see why I should trust you."

"Look, I didn't have a choice earlier, but now I do. And it started as an act, but now it's real for me."

"Explain, then. What's your sob story?"

Meg explained as briefly as she could. "I sold my soul to Hades a few years ago. He's been after Hercules because he's the only one that can ruin his plan to take over Mount Olympus. He's the one who sent all the monsters Herc faced."

Several things clicked in Phil's mind, and the realizations did nothing to abate his anger or inspire his trust. "Oh, like the one you led us to?"

"Yes," Meg confirmed. "And last night, Hades finally figured out how to get to Hercules—through me. He made Hercules give up his strength for one day in exchange for my freedom. Then he told him the truth about me, to demoralize him. Now Hades has unleashed the Titans, and he sent the Cyclops after Hercules. And he's going to try to face it, even without his strength. He said he doesn't care if he dies—I don't think he believes he can even succeed."

A word came to Phil's mind, one of the deadliest threats ever known to heroes: despair. That was more serious than any challenge Hercules had faced yet. It wasn't a matter of physical ability or moral courage; it was a test of the will—heart, spirit, soul, whatever it was called.

"Okay, I'll see if I can knock some sense into him. But don't expect to get anything out of this," Phil warned Meg.

"I don't!" she insisted. "I'm doing this for him. I never wanted to hurt him. I don't want him to die." Her voice sounded almost choked when she said those last words. Phil almost believed her, and if he had, he might have pitied her.

The Cyclops could be seen from miles away. In comparison, they could not see Hercules until they were almost at the square where he was being tossed around like a child's toy ball. He looked more battered than they had ever seen him. He brightened the slightest bit when he saw Phil had arrived. But then he parroted Phil's own cynical advice. "You were right all along, Phil. Dreams are for rookies." He shot Meg a dirty look on those last words—it seemed that she had been at least one of his dreams.

Phil could have cursed himself for ever saying that. "No, no, no. Givin' up is for rookies. I came back 'cause I'm not quittin' on ya. I'm willing to go the distance. How 'bout you?"

He knew what a difference it made to have someone believe in you. For all the training he gave, that was the thing his students had really needed.

Knowing that Phil believed in him seemed to snap Hercules out of his disheartened stupor. He started thinking, and using his head instead of his muscle, he managed to trip the Cyclops so that it fell off a cliff.

Hercules was stunned by his sudden victory, and concerned about the possibility of the Cyclops coming back (monsters sometimes did that—take the Hydra for example.) So he did not see the column from the collapsing building that was falling toward him.

Philoctetes had seen all kinds of heroes—proud, humble, selfish, selfless, street smart, book smart, kinesthetically smart. He thought he had seen every kind of hero and every kind of heroic act. But even he was taken aback when Meg pushed Hercules out of the way of the falling column. It happened so quickly, it couldn't have been premeditated. She was acting on instinct to save someone, regardless of the danger to herself.

Phil and Pegasus had heard Hercules scream in pain before, on the rare occasions when he actually wounded himself—his strength had not made him immune to injury. But they had never heard such anguish in his voice as now, when he saw Meg crushed by the column and cried out, "No!"

Something equally amazing happened after that: as Hercules tried to lift the column enough to get Meg out, his strength suddenly returned; his wounds seemed to fade, and he managed to lift the column up over his head with ease.

He was just as stunned as his onlooking allies. "What's happening?"

Meg, who was somehow still alive, wheezed as she explained, "H-Hades' deal is broken. He promised I wouldn't get hurt."

Oh. Maybe her action had been premeditated. She had worked for Hades and been on the bad end of a deal with him; she must have known how to exploit his loopholes.

Hercules knelt next to her, cradling her head in his hand, looking over her broken body. He could not form a coherent question, though the gist of it came through: Why would you do that?

Amazingly, despite the pain of her crushed bones and organs, Meg smiled up at him as she answered, speaking from both of their experiences. "People always do crazy things … when they're in love."

Hercules was so stunned by her words and shaken by her actions, he could barely respond, mostly just stuttering her name.

"Are you always this articulate?" Meg joked weakly, echoing their first conversation. That got a slight laugh out of Hercules, but he was still gripped with worry.

"You haven't got much time," Meg urged him. "You can still stop Hades."

She was right. The battle for Mount Olympus was still going on, and Hercules was needed there; but there was no way he would leave Meg alone, especially not now.

So Phil came up, pushing a rock over to be a makeshift pillow for her, and told Hercules, "I'll watch over her, kid." It would mean missing what would probably be Hercules' most legendary moments—a demigod joining the gods' fight against the Titans—but Meg was the one who needed support now, and Hercules needed to know that she was not alone before he left her behind to enter the fray.

Hercules could not bring himself to say a goodbye. Instead he told Meg, "You're going to be alright. I promise."

Phil did not say anything, but in his heart he thought Hercules probably should not have made that promise, as it did not seem like one he could keep.

Thankfully, Hercules wasted no more time: he found his sword among the rubble, mounted Pegasus with renewed energy, and flew off toward Mount Olympus, leaving Phil and Meg alone.

They did not speak much. Meg was in too much pain to carry a prolonged conversation. Phil hardly knew what to say anyway. But he had some idea of what to do. He had seen enough mortally wounded people to know how important it was to have someone with them in their final moments. He tried to make her comfortable. He didn't dare touch anything injured; he just held her hand between his, reminding her that he was there. It may have been the first time he held a lady's hand without the least intention of flirting.

He could at least share what Hercules had not been able to say. "He loves you. He told me so, last night. He just couldn't find the words now."

"I figured as much." Meg grimaced. "I told myself I wouldn't say it … even to myself."

"So why'd ya say it now?"

"He should know that he's loved … that it was real for me, too."

"He knows. We all know." When Meg met his eyes, Phil told her earnestly, "You did good. You saved him twice." He smiled grudgingly. "I never thought I'd say this—least of all to you—but … you're a hero."

Meg laughed weakly, then winced at the pain it caused her. "Didn't see that coming," she murmured.

Phil snorted. "Yeah. Neither did I."

The minutes seemed to pass unbearably slowly. Meg did not complain, but Phil could tell by her facial expressions and the way she turned her head back and forth that the pain was bad, maybe even getting worse.

"Hang in there, kid. Herc promised you'd be alright; don't go making him break his promise."

But they both knew it was not up to Meg whether the Fates would cut her thread of life. Phil could see that she was slipping, wanting the pain to stop.

Finally, he caught sight of Pegasus rushing back to Earth. "Meg, I can see him! He's on his way. Just hold on."

But her eyes were closed, and her head was no longer moving. Phil lifted her wrist up, trying to find a pulse. Her fingers started to reach out, but then her arm fell lifelessly.

Phil was still holding her hand when Hercules arrived, calling out Meg's name. Phil turned toward him and shook his head sorrowfully; he couldn't speak the bad news out loud. He stepped away as Hercules fell on his knees and took Meg's body in his arms, sobbing.

It was a cruel irony, as Phil had reflected while waiting. Hercules had saved hundreds of people during his time in Thebes, and just moments ago he had even liberated the gods of Olympus; but he had not been able to save the person he loved most.

After a minute Hercules laid her body gently down, and buried his face in his folded arms. Phil approached him then.

"I'm sorry kid," he said truthfully. He looked at Meg's body, and could not think of a single comforting thing to say. All he could offer was resignation. He knew from experience that acceptance was needed for healing. "There's some things you just can't change."

After a moment, Hercules lifted his head, and his tone was darker than Phil had ever heard it. "Yes I can."

Phil turned, startled, and saw Hercules stand and turn to walk away. Pegasus neighed questioningly and made to follow him, but Hercules held up a hand. "No, you stay here. I don't need you to get where I'm going."

"Uh—where are ya goin'?" Phil posited.

"To bring Meg back."

Phil's eyes widened, and then he shook his head and waved his hands. "Wait, wait—you're not thinking …"

Hercules was resolute. "Meg saved my life, and that allowed me to save Mount Olympus. If anyone's worth going to hell and back, it's her."

Phil could not find a single word to refute that. All he could do was watch as his last hope walked off on a literal suicide mission.

Meg was right again: people did crazy things out of love.