Every morning Hercules spent away from Megara was torture. He hated himself for giving in to Phil's marketing scheme just to placate him. Emptiness in his bed or at his side yawned cold and painful. So many strangers surrounded him, all vying for his attention and some superficial sign of affection. He used to store up these experiences to laugh about them later with Megara. Her perspective was always valuable and often amusing. She'd created a reliable pressure release for his mind to stay resilient for every challenge.
Now, he had a silent version of her along for the ride, imagining her pithy responses to what she saw out there. Her imaginary presence became the scaffolding for his unsteady smile. Daydreaming had rarely been so influential a part of his day.
The whole time, he kept one of Megara's sashes folded neatly in his armor so nobody could see it or take it away. Especially not Phil.
His eyes glazed over much of the day, ignoring the reality of his situation. He would frequently retrieve a spare sash of Megara's from his armor and bury his face in it to remember her scent and softness. It was the only way to endure without relief and the ever-growing ache for companionship. He started thinking through all his friends and which one of them he'd invite along if he could, but truthfully, all he wanted was Megara.
She'd sent him away with a letter, but he and his retinue moved so quickly that he was sure either she was still sending letters, and he outran them, or she'd despaired of reaching him in time and stopped sending any. Either option distressed him, but he internalized his anxiety and loneliness rather than reveal them. He couldn't show this weakness to just anyone. People didn't want to see a hero's weaknesses, at least not the well-intentioned people. He definitely couldn't reveal a weakness to his enemies, either. Thus, he would have to pretend he was indifferent.
The wear and tear of this tour showed on his face in the quiet moments when he and Phil spared the time to eat together and fit in a workout or two between stops.
"Cheer up, we got people traveling from Elis to see ya! That's two cities over!"
"Phil…" Hercules's voice was crackly as if he'd been screaming all day. In a way, he had, but he'd kept it all internal. "Can't we take a break? Or give me something new to do… Or better yet, just let me go home… I've got a wedding waiting for me."
They'd gotten into multiple heated discussions about whether it was time before, but Phil did not object this time. Hercules must have despair and exhaustion written all over his face. "Okay, Kid. You wanna take a break? You've earned it. We'll head back to Thebes after today's show. Promise."
Knowing that energized Hercules for the rest of that morning, but this was the day someone approached him with a bouquet of peonies and another with anemone flowers wrapped in black cloth.
"We're sorry you're going through this," the middle-aged lady told him, gesturing to her family, who approached him slowly with somber faces. "We wanted to show our support for your heroic efforts. You've done so well despite everything. We wanted to express our sympathy and compassion for what you've lost while doing so much work for everyone else. Please accept these peonies as a sign of our commiseration."
He didn't know what they referred to, but Hercules reflexively accepted the peonies. "What… Have you heard something I haven't?"
Megara would love their delicate and intricate petals.
"You haven't heard?" The fan covered his mouth. "I didn't mean to be the one who informed you, Hercules! I thought you would be the first to know!"
Hercules maintained his patented public relations smile, though he was now staring at his fan and his family as if he'd smuggled a snake into the flowers. Megara would've liked those flowers, too, and commented on how ironic it was for flowers associated with death to be lively and colorful. She ought to be here to accept them. "What kind of flowers are these?" He was now almost afraid to know.
"Anemonies are for those who've lost a lover to death," the middle-aged woman answered as the father was afraid to speak the words.
Meg.
He hadn't heard from her in… how long?
This thought drew all the blood from his feet to his head, then back again, and the great hero wobbled on his feet.
"Kid! What're ya doin'?" Phil was now at his side, waving his pudgy arms around. "Get a grip! C'mon, it's just some flowers! You ain't allergic!"
Hercules dropped the flowers onto Phil's head. "Who…?" he asked the fan, but the man's wife spoke up, looking empathetically into his eyes.
"Princess Megara, dear… It was in the Greekly World News this morning. Everyone knows about how gorgons broke into your home and petrified her."
Someone could have shoved a red hot rod up his nose, and he'd have the same reaction. His eyes rolled back, and the mighty hero slammed backward onto the stage, causing a rumble with the force of impact.
There was no way for him to process the news of her death without going mad. It couldn't be true! He could wake up in bed with her, and it would all go away. He wrenched his eyes open to see multiple concerned faces hovering over him.
None of them belonged to Megara.
"Meg's a tough gal. She ain't dead," Phil tried to tell him.
Hercules grimace-smiled at that reassurance. Of course, Meg wouldn't let anyone take her down, even if he wasn't there to watch over her. She was too tough and resourceful!
Or was she?
The man whose family had presented him with anemones unwrapped the bouquet. They'd used an issue of the Greekly World News to bind the flowers together. On the paper's front page, it announced that Princess Megara of Thebes had died in her home when confronted by gorgons.
He couldn't read anymore. There was a picture of Megara's face, an engraving from their victory parade. He stood beside her in that picture, his arm around her as he waved to the crowd. His stomach turned over, his head swimming with poison.
"Oh…" Phil said, "Maybe I spoke too soon…"
There was a wrenching sensation in Hercules's gut as if an eagle tore out his liver. Everything in and around him was wrong!
"Back up! Give the guy some space!" Phil shooed several onlookers away, but the damage had already been done.
"I should've been with her," he groaned. "She needed me, and I wasn't there!" The pain of his shredded inner peace flared red hot as he recognized the perfect and only target for his ire. "Phil…" he ground out between his teeth.
The satyr put up his hands. "We couldn't have known that would happen! Look how much we were accomplishing out here!"
"She should've been with me!" Hercules roared back to his feet and glared down at Phil as if he could hurl him into the sun. His hands itched to exact revenge, but his training was too powerful. He turned away. "You betrayed me, Phil! I can't describe thisfury!You weren't thinking of what was good for me or my future. You were thinking of our brand. I'm done here."
"What d'ya mean?" Phil sounded heartbroken, but in his current state, Hercules could only think that fair was fair, and Phil should get a taste of what he'd inflicted.
A stampede of teenagers stormed the stage as Hercules was on his way off of it.
"You're single?" One of them asked, grinning widely and gripping his arm.
"His girlfriend died. He needs another one to comfort him!"
"Poor distressed baby, do you need cuddles?"
They were all over him.
It was like a whole anthill got dumped on him. Every touch was a thousand revolting pinpricks, but they were girls. He couldn't fling them around the way he could other threats. All he could do was put his arms up and try to block them from reaching into his armor or face.
The last time this had happened, he'd been with Megara, who could rip them off him without guilt. She could do low-level damage on the same tier as the others.
Now, he was alone, just as his Megara had been when she died, confronted by multiple horrific monsters in the place where she ought to have been safest.
His reasoning skills waned and snapped. He flung his thick, powerful arms to either side with a roar of terror mingled with despair and rage. Three girls clung onto him, but the others reeled back, one falling back into the crowd.
Normally, he'd apologize, but today, he staggered across the stage, his eyes fixed on Pegasus like the only saving grace in his world. If he could just fly home, he could think of a solution. Megara couldn't be gone. She was too integral to his life!
"Where are you going?" a whiny voice asked directly in his ear. The speaker was clinging onto his arm, wrestling with a neighbor to get onto his back.
There were so many noises, too many people in his face. He couldn't make it all make sense at the same time. There was no way to process everything. Dropping onto all fours, Hercules rolled his body, trying to get away while shielding his ears. Multiple girls yelled and darted away, and then he started crawling to he-didn't-know-where. Were they chasing him? Hercules released another cry of enraged horror, the only preamble to how he jumped to his feet again and swung his body so quickly and with so much force that all the clingers who'd tried to regain control or contact went careening in all directions.
He never looked back to see what had happened to them.
Screams filled the air around him, but he was free. Hercules rushed onto Pegasus's back and kicked his flanks. They took to the air together, releasing him from the prison of contact with so many hangers-on demanding his attention.
Only one thing mattered: the distance between him and whatever was left of Megara.
He flew without words or coherent thought. Pegasus knew the way. There was no reason to direct him verbally.
All he could do was filter images of Megara through his mind and beg all the gods he could think of to let her live.
At one point in the flight, he was so numbed in the center of his mind that he felt himself falling through the air. He wasn't even conscious enough to care.
Pegasus, however, swept under him and caught him in midair before he could fall like a comet to the ground.
Once he was safe, Hercules wondered to himself whether or not dying would be so terrible if it meant he could be with her. Wouldn't she be lonely if she were in Asphodel? She'd need him there with her! Besides, he couldn't stand being on a plane of existence without her.
Pegasus neighed sharply at him and snorted in disapproval. Had he a voice, Hercules wagered, this would've been an admonishment to pull himself together. His oldest friend demanded that he stay focused, and he would. He had only one goal, one priority.
They soared over Thebes, and Pegasus corkscrewed down to the courtyard of their villa.
Galatea, Medusa, and Ismene stood over a table with a map of Greece and multiple pegs connected by red thread. It looked as if they were tracking someone or something. Each of them looked up in surprise when they saw him arrive.
"Hercules!" they all cried at once, abandoning the table to rush toward him.
Hercules threw his arms out in front of himself to shield his face, once again fearing that same helpless prickling terror of being crowded and used.
The trio halted in their approach, proving that at least some people were empathetic to his situation.
It was Galatea who spoke first to comfort him. "We were looking for you! We thought we might get the news to you before the gossip rags!"
Why were they all smiling at him? "Meg…" he said, voice crackling. "Is it true?"
"No," Medusa put a hand on his shoulder, all her snakes focusing on him with soft, soothing hisses.
He couldn't think past the thought that this was one of the last sights Megara had. He leaned away from his former friend, but it was then he saw the wall open.
There she was. Alive, with her hair tied up in a silk kerchief as if she'd been hard at work. She smiled at him and walked toward him, leaving the secret passageway she'd designed hanging open. "It's really you, you're home!" She opened her arms as she approached him.
For the second time that day, Hercules lost consciousness.