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When Hermes emerged from Hades' office, Eurydice's hand tightened around Orpheus's wrist. He lifted his face from where it had been buried in her hair, gazing up at his old mentor with the first stirrings of hope.
Hermes beckoned to him.
Taking her hand in his own, Orpheus moved to ascend the stairs - but Hermes stopped him short.
"Come alone, Orpheus."
Eurydice's free hand fisted convulsively in the loose fabric of his shirt, and he ducked to touch his lips to her forehead.
"It's alright - Mr. Hermes will be with me."
She tipped back her head to look at him, and he felt his heart crash against his ribs the way it always did when their eyes met. There was something in her face he hadn't seen before - a tightness around the corners of her mouth, a muscle jumping near her cheekbone. He cupped her face in the palm of his hand and stroked his thumb across the spot where he knew dimples appeared when she smiled. Instead, he felt the rabbit-quick pounding of her pulse against his fingers.
She was terrified.
She opened her mouth as though to to protest, but closed it again. He could feel the chattering of her teeth despite the sweltering heat, and it made him ache. He bent to kiss her brow again, whispered words into her skin.
"I'll bring you home. I promise."
She let him go.
---
Hermes closed the door behind them.
"Hades has reached a decision."
Orpheus looked expectantly at the king. For a moment, he thought he saw a flash of suspicion cross the old man's face as he studied Hermes, who was wiping a trickle of blood away from Orpheus' brow. A moment later, however, he appeared as impassive as ever.
"The contract is here. Read it carefully. Ain't no fraud - but there is a clause."
Orpheus stepped closer to the lavish desk where a single scroll lay waiting. Beneath the typewritten terms of Eurydice's original contract - his heart constricted at the sight of her signature scrawled in shaky letters near the bottom - was a hand-written addendum in what he assumed was Hades' script:
This contract shall be null and void, its parties fully unemployed and free to leave the Wall behind with only one provision:
Orpheus, the undersigned, shall not turn to look behind; shall not speak, nor touch, nor breathe a word to his Eurydice.
Beneath it, a space lay waiting for Orpheus' signature.
"I...why?" It was all he could say - his mind struggled to untangle the meaning behind the conditions.
"Don't ask," was all Hermes would say; his hands were busy unfastening the bandana from Orpheus's neck and retying it around his brow to staunch the blood still dripping sluggishly into the poet's eyelashes. Orpheus batted his fussing hands away gently, then froze.
"Shall not speak --"
"The penny drops," drawled Hades.
"I can't tell her?"
"No," Hermes confirmed, his voice soft.
"I just have to-"
"Start walking," Hades rumbled.
"I can't. I won't - she won't know to follow me! She won't understand, she'll think I'm--"
"You'll have to trust her," Hermes laid a hand on Orpheus shoulder. "And she'll have to trust you. Does she? Do you?"
Orpheus remembered the way she had pulled him into her the first night they'd met, breathed secrets into his ear, promises and pleas and the steady refrain of stay, hold me, promise me, shelter me...stay...
His stomach turned.
"Orpheus," Hermes spoke again, "This is the only way."
‐---
He stepped out of the office and into the overbearing light of the factory, careful to keep his eyes cast down at hands. They were trembling.
Below him was a hushed intake of breath as the workers awaited the verdict, and with them--
"Orpheus!"
Was that how she had sounded when she called his name before? How could he not have heard her? How, when even now he felt the sound of her voice pull him in like gravity?
"Orpheus," Hermes murmured from behind him, "Look up."
Orpheus did. He cast his gaze as far up as it would go and did his best to imagine that the fluorescent glare of the artificial light was the soft glow of stars.
Behind him, Hades boomed a dismissal: "The poet is leaving."
And slowly, Orpheus began to move.
---
Eurydice was frozen, right down to the bones.
"Orpheus?" She did her best to keep her voice steady, but even to her ears it sounded cracked and frayed.
She thought she saw him flinch.
He descended the stairs without the usual bounce in his step. And he never looked her way.
As he stepped down onto the landing and began to walk, she took an instinctive step toward him.
She waited for the workers to close around her - for the arms of the underworld to reach out to hold her back - but they did not come. She took another step, and then another.
Was she free to leave?
Ahead of her, Orpheus walked on.
"Orpheus?"
He did not answer her.
Unbidden, panic began to bubble up in her throat.
"Orpheus, wait -- wait!" She stumbled in her hurry to follow him. The hollow place inside of her where hunger had once lived was now filled with the heaviness that permeated Hadestown like smoke, twisting in her lungs and leaving her feeling sluggish and clumsy.
"Don't go, I'm coming with you!"
He did not slow down. Instead, as she struggled to catch up to him, she thought she saw him pick up the pace.
---
Orpheus walked.
He could hear her footsteps behind him as they rounded the far corner of the factory, where the cement floor gave way to the rough hewn cobblestones which lined the path to the wall. Every so often, he thought he heard her stumble, and the desire to turn and steady her became so overpowering that he forced himself to walk faster.
"Orpheus, wait -- please..."
But he couldn't. So he didn't.
The wall loomed over them, as solid and unforgiving as ever. Around them, a deep and throaty growl seemed to come from every direction. The dogs did not seem any happier to see him leave than they were to see him arrive.
Without the light of Hadestown ahead of him, shining through the gaps, it was harder to find the cracks. But his feet remembered the path, and the stones remembered his song - he could feel the music reverberating through the empty space, and he crawled through as slowly as he dared, silently begging the gods that she was near enough to follow him.
Ahead of them, the railroad tracks lead into the gaping tunnel of the mines. From within their depths, the first whistle of wind from the outside blew in. He felt it creep under his collar and chill his insides. He shuddered.
"Lover..." She whispered behind him.
Terror shot through him. Where was she? Was she close enough to overtake him? Was she so far back she'd lose sight of him?
"Orpheus, what did he say to you?"
Was she was beginning to sound more like herself, or was the wind playing tricks on him?
He walked faster. Overhead, the lights of the mine swung lazily in the cold breeze. He had almost forgotten that aboveground it was winter time.
"What could he have said to make you leave without me? Why won't you look at me?"
He could feel the hard steel of the railroad tracks beneath the soles of his shoes. They were old and worn, like everything he owned - like everything he had. He could feel blisters forming on his heels. Had he felt them on the way down? He couldn't remember.
"Am I so easy to leave behind?"
Her voice was stronger now, he was sure of it. He could no longer hear her footsteps over the shrill whistle of the wind through the tunnels.
Although he kept his gaze fixed up at the blinking lights above him, his mind could see her perfectly: his cold, hungry, brave, beautiful girl close at his heels. Her brown eyes creasing at the corners as she laughed in the dim lights of the tavern; narrowed with suspicion as he passed her a paper flower; lit from behind with a tenderness reserved only for him in the dark and privacy of their own bed.
Blown wide with fear, the last time he saw them.
"Don't you wanna take me home?"
The answer was on his lips like the refrain to a song he'd sung a million times. Yes. Yes.
He walked faster.
---
Walking was easier in the mines. Eurydice knew this wasn't right; after all, they were now walking uphill and into the wind. Still, she felt lighter than she had before. The numb resignation that had overwhelmed her in the factory breathed out of her with every exhale. And with every inhalation, the wind carried with it the scent of her poet: firewood and honeysuckle and spilled liquor.
The wind whipped through in a particularly strong gust, and began to taste bitter on her tongue.
"Thought you said you'd never leave me!"
She almost yelled it, uncertain if he could hear her over the wind.
"Thought you said you'd walk beside me? But look at you! Where are you now? Orpheus!"
She waited for him to stop - to turn round and outstretch his arms to her - to reassure her the way he'd always done: Oh no, I'm not like that!
He quickened his pace.
It hurt like a slap in the face, and the hurt drove her on. Was the roaring she heard really the wind in her ears, or the blood rushing through her veins hard and fast?
----
"Didn't you love me? Orpheus!"
She was right behind him, and he could hear the tears in her voice. It tore at him. What was he doing? What was he doing to her? Was it worth it? Even if they came out the other side of it, she would hate him. Wouldn't it be better to tell her, to show her? The wind around him was cold. She would freeze out in the open air. He could warm her - could hold her one last time...
Something solid and warm traced down his spine through the thin material of his shirt.
Her fingertips.
Panic flooded his body with adrenaline and suddenly he was running, sprinting ahead of her, trailing his hand along the walls of the tunnel in a desperate attempt to keep his balance as he went.
There was light ahead. He could see it in the distance. Sweat trickled down his forehead as he ran - the bandana Hermes had bandaged him with slid uselessly, and his cut began to bleed anew.
"Orpheus!"
She was so close. They were so close. The light was getting brighter now, it was just around the corner. His bones were rattling, and the roaring in his ears was almost deafening now. He could see his shadow across the ground ahead of him - could see hers close behind, her arm outstretched to reach for him -
Awareness hit him like a blast of ice. If his shadow was ahead of him, a light was shining from behind. A light, a roar, a rattling-
A train.
He turned.
----
She had felt it behind her before he had. She'd screamed his name, but it was lost in the warning whistle and the chug of the engines.
"Orpheus!"
She could pinpoint the exact moment he realized what it was - his back went rigid and he faltered. The entrance was only feet ahead of them. She could smell snow on the air, could see the blinking lights of the train station beyond. He dragged a hand against the wall to try to slow his momentum.
He turned to reach for her.
...and the bandana Hermes had tied around his head slipped down over his eyes.
His hands flew to his head, and hers to his chest. She crashed forward into him, pushing him out ahead of her --
The train ripped through the mouth of the tunnel.
--
He was blind and deaf, and there was something cold against his back and something warm against his front.
His fingers fumbled for the bandana. It slid easily over his sweaty face and settled back down around his neck. He wiped the blood from his eyes.
And found her eyes looking back at him.
He had failed.
"Oh god. No. Please. Wait, I'll try again, I'll try--"
"Orpheus," she whispered his name with a reverence he had never heard before, and he wrapped his arms around her and held on.
"'M sorry, I'm sorry, forgive me. He said I couldn't tell you, or look, or-- otherwise I'd never have-- Eurydice, I tried, I swear--"
"No," she held his face in her hands and she was smiling, "you didn't try. You did. We did."
And though it was difficult, he looked past her--
And saw the rising sun.
"There's bad news though," her lips twitched in a wry grin, and she reached behind him for a handful of something soft and wet, and shook it loose over his chest. He looked down.
Snow.
A laugh bubbled up in his throat, and she swallowed it down as she kissed him. He threaded his shaking fingers through her hair and kissed her back with all the words he couldn't speak before. I love you I love you I love you.
He held her as the train rolled to a halt at the station, and they watched as a beautiful woman dressed in green stepped onto the platform. She lifted a hand to wave, and a bluebird settled deftly onto her shoulder.
They waved back.
---
The car door opened a second time. Hermes stepped out onto the platform behind Persephone. He followed her gaze to the battered pair of lovers near the entrance to the tunnel - cold, wet, hungry and beaming.
Orpheus seemed to catch sight of him and waved harder than before. Persephone laughed.
"This the way the world is now?"
Hermes smiled.
"Could be."