The Revolving Door

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Telemachus was suitably angry when Penelope told him where Odysseus had gone, but he came around, watching the mirrors over his mother's shoulder each time he visited. Penelope continued work on the massive tapestry she had planned. It was a map, intricately woven of their old home, with as many details as she could manage. She included the village, the docks, the palace, Eumaeus's house, and the pen with its pigs, detailed in pink and brown. The windows of the palace were lit with golden threads, as were the sails of the ship...

"Mom!" Telemachus had to shake her shoulder, she'd been so focused on the last details. "It's— Dad's mirror's gone dark."

Penelope looked up, and saw that the bronze mirror had dimmed for the first time in decades. The glass mirror, Diomedes' mirror, was still bright, and still showed Diomedes mortal life. He was leaning over something, or someone, tears streaming down his cheeks. Penelope took both mirrors down from the wall, and ran.

Telemachus caught up with her, and they both ran to Hades' palace. No one made a move to stop them and the gates swung wide to admit her. Penelope followed the path down the hallways, now familiar to her, she'd walked it with Persephone several times over the last decades, and burst into the courtyard.

The activity was much the same as it had been, but there was a small figure at the base of the door, looking lost.

"Odysseus..." Penelope ran to him, and he looked at her, his outline blurring slightly, before solidifying into his familiar shape. Penelope took hold of his shoulders, and he looked at her without recognition for a painfully long moment, before his expression cleared and he smiled at her.

"Penelope," he whispered. "I—"

"You're home," Penelope said. "You did it."

"He's still out there," Odysseus looked back at the door. "I've got to go back, I have to—"

Penelope held him fast as he pulled against her grip. It was surprisingly easy and Penelope looked him over. Odysseus was covered in bruises, and a deep scratch cut across his forehead. He seemed so fragile beneath her hands suddenly, but she did not loosen her hold until he stopped struggling, then she pulled him closer, holding him tightly, knowing she did not have the words to comfort him right now.

"You did it," she repeated instead. "Now you need to rest. Diomedes will be here soon." Slowly, Penelope released one hand, then the other, and Telemachus took over holding Odysseus, who looked like he could hardly stand up without the support.

Penelope pulled Diomedes' mirror from her pocket, and watched him for a while. It was hard to tell what was happening, the image was dim, but she couldn't tell if that's because Diomedes was close to dying, or just that the space he was in was poorly lit.

The answer soon came though, as the light faded and, like the bronze mirror, it only reflected her face.

The door didn't so much as flash, and Diomedes was there. His body, like Odysseus's blurred, and reformed its original shape. He looked at his hands in confusion, and Odysseus broke from Telemachus's grip to help Diomedes to his feet.

"I didn't miss being mortal," Diomedes mumbled, as Penelope and Telemachus approached. Diomedes appeared to be bleeding from a wound in his side, but as they watched, the wound closed up, and the blood faded from his clothes. Odysseus also already looked better, most of his bruises had faded in a matter of minutes.

"Lets get you both home," Penelope said, "I've been working on something, though I'll admit I underestimated how long it would take, and its not quite finished..."

They arrived home and Penelope sent Odysseus straight to bed, and prepared one for Diomedes as well. Odysseus didn't argue, and slept for days. Since they didn't typically need sleep anymore, Penelope did her best not to let it worry her. They'd been through a lot, so she let him sleep.

Diomedes only slept a few hours though, before he was up again, raiding her larder for tea. He made no effort to return to his own palace, and Penelope didn't press, joining him over a cup.

"Do you want to talk about what happened up there?"

"Not particularly." Diomedes stared into his cup. "How much did you see?"

"I kept an eye on you."

"At least its over now," Diomedes looked down at his bracer, which had not been removed. The indicator gemstone was now a crystalline blue. "I'm not sure I'll ever be ready to do it a third time, but, I guess I'm in it now. Did Odysseus make it?"

Penelope thought, but she'd been so focused on his face she hadn't noticed the bracer. "I don't know."

"He should have," Diomedes said. "He... you'd have been proud of him, Pen."

"I've always been proud of him," Penelope said softly. "I'm proud of you too, you know."

Diomedes fidgeted, and didn't look at her. "I think the worst part was not knowing if I was going to find him. I wasn't even sure it *was* him at first."

"You both had new faces," Penelope remembered the early days, watching the two in their mirrors as infants, then children. "But there was a lot about your mannerisms that I recognized."

"You had the benefit of memories," Diomedes face was haunted. "It's strange, on the other side, I was, someone else. A different name, a different *life.*"

"That's what the goal was," Penelope reached over and took his hand, the one with the bracer. "To live a life of heroism, three times over. Two down, one to go."

Dio looked at the bracer, and he looked so tired...

Penelope squeezed his hand. "You should go back to sleep,"

"No, I'm alright, someone needs to look out for—"

Penelope put a finger over his lips, a little more forward than she usually was. "I will look after you both. Sleep Diomedes."

Diomedes looked toward the direction of the guest bed Penelope had set up, and Penelope sighed.

"Fine, but just this once," she said, and she was reminded of how many times she'd said those words with Telemachus, when he was very little, and having nightmares.

She led Diomedes up the stairs, and he followed, very similarly to a small child, though he was taller than she was.

Odysseus lay in the bed beneath the twisting branches of the olive tree, copied from their life. The tree was getting quite big now, and had completely overtaken the struts that had once secured it to the other three bedposts. There would be no removing it, but she had no interest in doing that anyway.

Odysseus was curled up in the middle of the bed, and looked very much like a small child himself. Penelope gestured, and allowed Diomedes to lay down beside him. It was the only thing to do when you had nightmares, she'd found. Sleep beside the people you loved. Odysseus stirred, and stretched out, reaching out for her, eyes still closed.

So she did, and Odysseus put his arm around her, and they all fell into the sweet relief of sleep, or however the phrase goes.