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Orpheus had not truly known relief until he set his eyes on Eurydice once more. He had walked for so long he wasn't sure he knew what it meant to be still any longer. Walked for so long every bone and muscle in his protested and ached. Still, it was worth it to see his love again.
He spotted her long before he truly reached her. She'd only been a dot on the horizon and yet he knew exactly who it was.
He didn't know how he'd gotten lucky enough to find her sitting alone at the edge of Hadestown, but he knew well enough not to question. It must have been that fate wanted him to have her back. He broke into a run, not caring if he was caught. Nothing was more important than getting to her.
"Eurydice!" He called out.
She did not turn.
"Eurydice!" He tried again.
Again, she did not look, almost as if she had not heard him at all.
Dread clenched at his heart. Something was wrong. He knew his wife. She would be just as relieved to see him as he was her. She would know his voice. What had they done to her down here? What torture had she suffered while he'd walked?
Orpheus pushed himself impossibly faster. His lungs burned from the effort, his feet throbbed but still he pushed on.
His footsteps pounded against the ground, drawing his love's attention at last. Confusion painted her expression as she turned to him.
Orpheus slowed to a stop and dropped to his knees beside her, the gravel stabbing through his pant legs and likely drawing blood. Again he did not care, for he'd found her.
"Eurydice," he said softly, reaching for her hands.
She pulled back, almost jumping away from him and held her hands against her chest. "Who…"
Orpheus didn't let her finish. "It's me."
Eurydice was silent for a moment. Her brows still knit together in confusion, her eyes searching his face. There was not an ounce of recognition behind her eyes. "I don't know you." She said it like an apology, sensing his desperation and longing.
Orpheus' heart dropped to his stomach, tears blurred his vision before he got so much as a chance to collect himself. "Yes, you do," he breathed. "Eurydice, I'm your husband."
"Are you sure you have the right, girl?"
"Of course, I'm sure. I could never mistake you. We've always known each other— even before we met, remember?"
Eurydice shook her head.
The tears were falling now, devastation taring at his heart. "That's okay," he said. He could hear the way the tears crept into his voice. How insane must he look to her? "Hey, that's okay. We'll figure it out. I came all this way for you— we can figure out the rest."
Again she went silent, a look of deep contemplation painting her face. She was beautiful, even like this. Even dirty, worn out, and confused, she was still the most beautiful woman Orpheus had ever seen.
"You called for Eurydice," she said softly— barely a whisper.
Her tone was so unsure it took another stab at his heart. "I did," he replied.
"Is that my name?"
Gods, what had they done to her? What had they done to his wife?
"It is," he managed somehow.
She nodded. "How long have I been down here?"
"I don't know," he answered honestly, "I walked for a long time. I— I lost track."
Eurydice let out an almost laugh, sounding enough like her self that Orpheus nearly forgot her words before. "What do you mean walked?"
"From the station. I took the back way. Hermes told me the way."
"The God Hermes?"
"Yes."
"You know him?"
"So do you."
She shook her head. "Not anymore I don't."
Orpheus wiped his tears and extended his hand once more. Eurydice, hands still clutched to her chest, stared.
"You will again though."
"What if I don't?"
"I don't know," he answered honestly. "But I'll help you through it."
She loosened the tight grip she had on her own hands. Not yet bringing them to Orpheus', but a step nonetheless. "What's your name?" She asked.
"Orpheus," he answered, trying not to let the way his heart shattered show on his face.
The pity in her expression made him sure he failed. "It's a good name."
Orpheus gave a wet sort of laugh. "You never thought so before."
Something unreadable flickered across her face. "Maybe I just didn't say it."
"Maybe."
His hands were still outstretched. He felt silly sitting there, selfishly begging for this poor woman to let him hold her.
"You don't have to remember me," he assured her. "You just have to trust me."
That seemed to win her over because slowly and hesitantly she reached out a hand and placed it in his own. "I don't know why— but I do."
"Maybe there's a part of you that remembers me," he meant it as a joke, but it came out too desperate to be one.
Eurydice attempted a smile. It only resulted in a twitching at the corners of her lips. "Maybe," she allowed.
She stared down at their joined hands, watching as Orpheus rubbed gentle patterns with his thumb.
It was a subconscious gesture now. When they'd first met and this wad all she'd let him have of her he'd done it to help calm her and let her know it was enough. He supposed they were back to that.
Orpheus stood, helping to pull Eurydice to her feet as well.
"Let's go home."
"I don't where that is," she reminded.
"You don't have to, I know the way."
Eurydice's eyes went glassy with tears. "You really care for your Eurydice."
"I care you," he corrected.
She shook her head. "Why would you risk your life for someone who doesn't remember you? Why not turn around and go back alone? It'd be easier," she protested.
Orpheus didn't need to think, the answer was simple, "Because I love you."