Work Text:
Outis stretched her muscles taut, trying to ease out the constant soreness and fatigue that had set in her bones when she'd joined the company. It always remained, despite everything she did to ease or erase it even a small bit. She'd even stooped as low as to request aid from Gregor-- although he was one of the few colleagues of hers she respected, so she didn't feel too shameful. His solutions still never worked.
She knew now, that the ache came from her ties to the Executive Manager. She didn't like feeling weak. It was insulting, to be dragged down to the level of an inept, malnourished scholar. Penelope was... How was Outis going to...?
Shaking her head and scoffing at the thought of being as weak as a schoolboy, Outis reminded herself she was still as smart and cunning as she ever was. No chains to any stupid clocks were ever going to change that, no matter how enthusiastic she seemed to be to do their bidding.
It wasn't her fault the only way to get through the war was to mooch off of higher powers, using her life as a bargaining chip. Rank was rank, after all.
...
She sounded like she was a part of the Thumb, thinking like that. Haah. Whatever.
Outis started her daily warm-ups, placing her hands below her lungs and breathing as deep as she could, feeling the cool air of her room fill her warm body.
She let her mind drift to memories of her life before the war. Faint as they were, she fought to cling to them. Her wife's face when she presented her with their bed carved from the olive tree where they'd met. Her son's tiny hand grasping her finger just a few days after he'd been born. Waking up next to the two, not knowing the horrors Odysseus was going to leave them for in mere months.
She hoped Telemachus was growing up to be kind. She knew Penelope wouldn't let him learn to be a cruel man, she was never one to tolerate that in their home. Outis half hoped Penelope waited for her, half hoped she had moved on to find someone good to help raise their son.
Outis wouldn't let herself cry. She couldn't. She'd joined the company to get home, and crying could wait until she got there. She didn't let a single tear spill out of her eye, thinking of her wife and son smiling softly up at her, trying to get her to lay back down for five more minutes in bed with them.
Ah, her breathing was getting a bit shaky.
Pushing away the thoughts of her better life, her happier half, and anything else that could bring her back to them, she focused on her deep breaths.
In. And she thought of the war.
Out. Of Achilles, the invincible man. Reckless Agamemmnon, and the wise Nestor, who would drone on and on, if you let him.
In. She thought of how Achilles was struck down.
Out. Of how one arrow could destroy an entire battalion's morale.
In. She thought of how the rest of her allies were probably home by now.
Out. And she hoped she'd get to hers as well.
In. She thought of her family again.
Out. What had become of them?
In. Were any of them still alive?
Out. Her parents, waiting for a child who'd never come home, not in their lifetime. Her wife and son, perhaps killed by those vying for the power Odysseus held.
Outis stopped breathing. It had sped up, beyond her control. She didn't want to think about her past anymore.
What mattered to her at the moment was not supposed to be what she had left at home, despite how much it pained her heart to push away the memories of her wife's warm arms, hugging her tight after a long day of work.
What mattered right now was her nigh unbreakable facade she was to show off for the rest of her journey home. She was to play up the part of Outis, a confident, battle worn veteran, who was no more than a strict, sycophantic yes-man who followed the clock's every order as it was the law. Her weapons were not too heavy for her to wield, her heart iron in the face of a threat.
She would only allow herself to be Odysseus when she finished her journey. She could hold back her fear until she fell into her wife's arms once more, tired and broken after decades of fighting to be there.
She didn't cry. She couldn't. She wouldn't allow herself to, not even in private.
Nobody noticed, even if her eyes were slightly redder than usual that morning as she stepped into the main room one minute after she always did.