Someone once used Hercules as a demonstration of rewards for longsuffering. He was not fond of the fact he was pedestalized on that account. There were other laurels to wear, and these were the only ones he considered odious. Withdrawing from Megara's life, though he deemed her ready for a life of her own, shook him to the base of his self-understanding. He was no hero if not for her and her sacrifices, the ongoing challenges that molded them both into a greater whole.

Yet his choice to offer her unspoken freedom cost him the one solace he clung to for so many burdensome centuries. He retreated, withdrawing even his attention when she venerated one of his sculptures. Part of giving her a life of her own choosing was not interfering from beyond her realm and meddling with her unduly. Damage may already have befallen her due to his early involvement, but that couldn't be helped. Hades dragged him into that.

Hades had a habit of bringing them together.

Melancholy ran counter to the nature Hercules knew his worshippers admired, but the facade of exuberant determination could only last so long on a shaky foundation.

In shame, he withdrew into his original home with Megara, and clung to any remnant of her essence he had preserved over the years. He stood outside the door of their room, where stood a lifelike statue in her image. The crystal eyes he'd smuggled from the Underworld sometimes gleamed with reflected light the way mischief had once illuminated her from within.

He couldn't approach the statue even to leave offerings of flowers and wine.

This was part of letting go.

For so long, his entire essence longed for her and hungered for the day he could stand in her presence once more. But now she was embarking on her interdependent journey out in the world. Her nature demanded freedom, and he could never deny her anything.

Heavy-thudding footsteps raced up the stairs.

Hercules winced, knowing soon he would have to play the bulwark to his children.

"Papa!" one of the twins shouted from the top of the stairs.

The other knocked into him from behind, so they both went tumbling face down on the landing before Hercules so much as turned his head.

As much as they resembled their mother, there was no denying he'd left his mark on them.

Aniketos and Alexiares rolled to their feet, only getting tangled up for a moment before they smoothed their chitons and fixed their father with a set of piercing violet eyes.

"Did she tell you where she went?" Alexiares asked.

The unclear "she" made Hercules's heart seize painfully between beats. His immortal heart didn't necessarily need to beat, but he was used to it. "Who?" he asked.

"Moni," both twins responded at once.

Hercules furrowed his brow. "Where did she go?"

"She went to meet our mother," Alexiares told him with firm clarity. "I want to go, too."

Hercules shot to his feet like he'd been loosed from a bow. "What do you mean? She went out? To see... her?"

"She's got this whole college girl routine, but I don't know who she thinks she's kidding," Aniketos scoffed. He folded his arms. "She's gonna tell Mother everything, and then we'll never get to meet her because she'll avoid us all!"

Panic rushed through Hercules's skull like wine in a jar. He thought Dionysus must be pranking him. "What... why did she...?"

"Are we going or what?" Alexiares asked. "We'll go if you do, but I wouldn't know what to say if it were the two of us."

"What do you mean... go?" He knew what they meant. Go to wander about with the mortals and encounter Megara again. How could he introduce her to their children? "Wait!" Hercules waved his arms around to stop the boys from answering. "Why is she-?" Wrong question, "Why didn't she tell me?"

"Because you'd squawk like a seagull at a bacchanal?" Alexiares suggested.

Classic Theban humor. Hercules couldn't relax enough to laugh.

"Boys. Harmonia can't... I gotta talk to her! Stay here!"

He closed his eyes and thought of his daughter. Impetuous, independent, and clever. Definitely more akin to her mother than himself.

He heard the chatter of many voices, the engine of a train, and the giddiness of Harmonia.

Hercules didn't want to create a scene the way he usually did. If he were going to confront his daughter, shouldn't he look the appropriate age for a father whose appearance froze at the age of twenty?

He didn't put too much thought into his appearance; there were enough statues of him that got it wrong and gave him a wild, wooly appearance. Whoever thought that was a good idea hadn't met him, but whatever. It was only a disguise.

Anticipating which station Harmonia would stop at, Hercules stepped out of a shadowed corner and onto the platform. He didn't know what he'd say, but he had to call Harmonia out of her madness. Chasing Meg around when he'd said not to meddle with her life choices? Didn't she even care to respect his perspective?

His arms were folded as he waited on the platform, and the train approached. He saw Harmonia's face through a window first of all, and she knew him on sight.

Her eyes widened, and her lips visibly formed the word, "Dad?" It seemed she knew she was in trouble.

Another face snapped into view, and it shocked his system. That face. Her eyes were narrowed with suspicion, and then they rolled toward the ceiling. She looked down at her phone and then left the train car.

Hercules stood frozen while she briskly moved past him. So much purple. Violet backpack, eggplant leather jacket... form fitting... lavender dress... why did he know so many shades of purple?

Megara had already swept past him in the time it took him to catalog her purples. Her perfume lingered in the air. Not the same, but... not too different... Still floral, still soft... Hercules turned his head to follow her.

"Wait up! I'll talk to my dad and catch up with the group!" Harmonia charged out of the train car and stopped between her parents. What was she doing?

"Uh-huh, whatever," Megara waved dismissively over her shoulder. She still had that sway about her, the same gleam at every twist of her curls.

How he'd longed to run his fingers through those curls...

"What're you doing?" Harmoniai snapped her fingers in his face. "You wanna wreck my chance to meet my mother just because you're selfish?"

He didn't tear his eyes from Megara until she was out of sight. Even then, his eyes lingered on the last place he'd seen her, as if there may be one more glimpse he could catch. "Selfish?" he repeated, dazed by the implication. "If I was selfish, I'd have taken advantage of the way she's always felt about me. But this is her life, and she gets to-"

"Dad! Cut that out!" Harmonia nudged his shoulder almost imperceptibly. "You're taking yourself out of her life; fine, do whatever you want, but you don't get to make that choice for me! So I'm going!" With a huff through her dainty nose, Harmonia pivoted on her heel and whacked Hercules with her backpack. She stalked away, shoulders hunched forward and her irritation radiating off of her hotly enough to make people hurry out of her way.

Was he wrong?

When had he become wrong?

Should he allow Harmonia to have a relationship with Megara while forfeiting his own?

Transposed over the vision he had of the bustling platform, Megara's violet eyes seared into those of one of his statues somewhere else in the station.

Hercules held his breath. Why did she seem so irritated with him? Did she know he'd been there on the platform? Would she withdraw her allegiance because he was such a loser?

"I don't really feel the same about him," her voice was cold and dismissive. She kept her eyes fixed on the statue's face. "I used to think he was there for me, like he cared somehow."

He did. He did!

Hercules's heart wrenched out of place as if he could throw it directly to her.

It went against everything he'd decided to do on her behalf, but... for her to be aware of him, and... did she hate him?

"But y'know, I guess I picked books over sports, and now I'm not important. Guess that's my bad for not being one of his typical devotees."

Standing on the platform and hearing this... anti-prayer?... Hercules knew he couldn't let her go like that. Anyone could call him a hypocrite, but there were tears in her eyes. Nope. Wasn't gonna stay like that?

Ordinary interventions from him typically were to inspire an athlete or to comfort someone who needed assurance and healing. This was technically a matter of healing, right?

Before Megara could tear her eyes away from his statue, Hercules radiated his golden aura from it. Anyone else could see; he didn't care. The wonder and gratitude on her face was all that mattered. That look in her eyes was almost...

Hercules transported himself back to his house, shaking and clutching at his heart.

He couldn't do this again and then let her go. He had to control himself, stay withdrawn, stay in control. And yet... she'd felt abandoned when he did those things. Her gratitude still reached him, though he'd withdrawn his aura from the statue.

It was just on the edge of possible he'd misread the situation. Maybe they couldn't stay away from each other.

He rubbed at his brow, hoping to find wisdom there. His older sister would have to do.