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As they walked the quiet, cold street, Penelope kept her eyes sharp for any danger, but her strength showed in how she squeezed his hand reassuringly. She was here. She was present. She was safe. Safe in many different ways that were hard to find the words to articulate with. Penelope just knew he needed her right there, in that very moment, as a lifeline for the two decades he'd suffered through. He was her focus in that moment, or at least he would be once they got to her home. A home that was on street level and not very big or grand like the pair had grown up with, but it was still shelter. She pulled out her key and unlocked the front door, before hiding the key away again somewhere on her person. She then pushed open the door, dreading what he thought about it. The front door opened onto a fairly empty room with a low table, a cushion on one end on the floor next to a pile of blankets. The kitchen could be seen through a doorway to the right and back behind the empty room, residual heat coaxing them further into the house. She had no idea how to work the heat in the apartment, and so used methods she knew, such as figuring out a timer that turned off the small heater in the kitchen after so long. It was definitely warmer then outside at least. To the left and behind the empty room, there was a small hall with two doors: one on the right of the hall and one at the end, which was partly ajar to keep it from being bitter when she retired for the evening. As she shut the door behind him, she cautiously watched him, trying to piece together anything of his reaction to her squalor conditions.

He couldn't help but lean his head on her shoulder, his own shaking as he tried to get his muffled sobs under control. Her soothing words calmed him a little, enough that he was now taking stuttering breaths instead of outright sobs. When she began to steer them somewhere he let her guide him, unable to really function well enough to even attempt to ask questions as to what her home was like, and what he could expect as he adjusted to the afterlife here. It didn't make sense still, no matter how much he tried to work his way through the puzzle of why this was so different from what the Gods and their prophets had described. Nobody reached his left, outer hand down to grasp at his wife's smaller hand - he needed the comfort and reassurance. There was so much he needed to say, but his mind was having trouble working as it normally did, and he moved as if he were in a fog. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess. This isn't how I wanted you to see me upon our reunion." His voice was strained and shaky, an undertone of sheer exhaustion under everything.

He was falling apart, right in front her. Bit by bit, the pieces were falling away and her heart broke all over again. She pulled him close, wrapping her free arm around him to hold him close, allowing him an opportunity to cry further if that's what he wanted to do. The man looked beyond exhausted - and she remembered what that was like when Telemachus was small, even when the pair took turns to calm the baby. She ran her hand through his hair in an attempt to soothe him, keeping her arm around him as best as she could in that moment. "Shh... Shh...I have you." Her words were quiet, gentle, and after a moment, she shifted to steer them towards her small one bedroom apartment, keeping her arm around his waist to help support him and to keep in contact with someone she'd missed dearly and loved with the entirety of her being. "We can take you after you have had some rest. How does that sound?"

Going to talk to the Guard sounded like the best idea, but he was loathe to go somewhere that would require he engage with others. Between Calypso, all the dangers on the way home, Poseiden and all that had transpired with him, then the suitors... it was a wonder he had strength to even speak to another, even if that person was one of the two he'd fought so hard to get back to. Exhaustion plagued him, making him falter in his steps. Her words caused a further stumble, his eyes watering as he tried to blink away the forming tears. He cleared his throat and nodded, though he still had a pit in his stomach at the thought of telling her all he'd done. "And I've been fighting to get home to you. First surviving the war, and then with everything that happened after. You and Telemachus were foremost in my thoughts every step of the way. I..." Nobody cleared his throat again, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "I would rather go home with you. I do not have the capability to talk to others at present."

"There is. We need to show you to the Guards, but that can wait... Unless you would rather do it now?" That group was what had gotten her started when she'd arrived, and she knew her husband would need the slight nudge in the right direction after everything he'd gone through between when she'd last seen him to now. She squeezed his hand when he took hold of her own, enjoying the warmth and security of the simple gesture. It had been so long... And then a weight settled in her stomach at what he said, and her brows furrowed. How could things have ended in further horror then what she had endured? What she and her son both had endured? A smile tugged at her lips when he grasped her hand in both of his. Again, a familiar gesture she long since missed. Her heart, and her expression, softened, though, when he all but pleaded for her forgiveness in not so many words. "Odysseus. I've been waiting for you these past twenty years. It will take more then you think to chase me away."

The gentle hand on his cheek was enough to pull him from the pain-filled spiral and he took a deep, shuddering breath. Reaching a hand of his own up to cup hers, he managed a watery smile. "I understand." Despite acknowledging her words, it took him a good few minutes to release her. Clearing his throat and clutching at one arm awkwardly with the other, he looked around them with uncertainty. "Is there some sort of formality to announce that I am here?" Finally managing to let go of his arm, he reached out to clasp her much smaller hand in his. "I fear that you will not like any of the news that I bring. Things outside of Ithaca ended in horror as well." He brought his free hand up to cup her tiny hand between both of his. "I pray that you can forgive me for my part in what I will tell you." To say he had a lot of apprehension to tell anyone about his shame, let alone his wife, would be the understatement of the millennium.

Penelope appreciated the gesture of protecting her, and she could tell he was struggling to understand what she'd told him. Unfortunately, she couldn't provide anything more to clarify what she meant. She struggled to understand it herself, so what could she say to make the brilliant man understand something that was beyond her? They would have to talk it out together when they got to her home... their home. At his observation about the architecture, she nodded, casting her eyes around at the buildings. Yes, it was far beyond what she knew as well, but she was used to it - for the most part. Before she could entirely move past him, though, Odysseus had pulled her to his warm, welcome chest again. His breathing grew ragged again and she wrapped her arms around him again, offering what comfort she could. Her eyes watered, stung, and she tried to be strong, to not cry. Penelope clung to her husband, who had seen far more horrors then she even knew, trying to be his rock and his support. "You did not fail us, my love. Cast that thought from your mind." She reached up and cupped his cheeks in her calloused hands, forcing him to look her in the eye. "We are together again. You are mine, and I am yours. Nothing can keep us apart. Understand?"

He gave a weak, torn smile in response to her words about fighting as long as they could. He didn't want to interrupt her, and he'd said a lot that she had to answer. Her explanation regarding the way time seemed to work confused him - his brilliant mind trying to apply what he knew and how Athena could influence time, only to come up short. Wherever this was - it wasn't what he'd expected to see when he finally closed his eyes for good. "Lead the way, my love. I'll keep watch for anyone approaching with ill intent." Nobody hoped that none of those he'd put down found their way here. He did selfishly hope that his son would though - if this place was in between life and death wouldn't a restless soul who'd not been able to rest find himself here? "The architecture is unlike anything I have seen, despite all my travels. Any home is better than what I had during all those long years." Unable to help himself, he wrapped his arms around Penelope, a few tears shedding again. "I'm so sorry. I failed you. I am so grateful that we can, at least, be reunited here." He let go after a long moment of silent, shoulder heaving sobs.

"We fought to buy you as much time as possible... I am sorry we could not buy you more." Penelope said, her face still buried in his shoulder, her grip tight on the man she loved, as if she was afraid he'd leave her again. The thought terrified her, and she shook with that fear. They both had been through so much and having him there, in front of her? She'd kill many more men then she had already to keep him there. She nuzzled into his neck, breathing deep his scent that was still his and his alone. At his confusion, she lifted her head to look at him out of her periphery. The former queen swallowed back the lump in her throat before she could respond. "Time seems to vary for those who come here. I've heard exchanges like ours where reunited companions were just as confused by the time difference." She didn't fully understand it herself; there was a lot here she didn't understand, but she had to adapt quickly, something she prided herself on. And then he was pulling away and before she could even process, there was a desperate whine escaping her throat as she tried to cling to him. That is, before she caught herself and after scolding herself mentally, she let go of him and straightened her posture, shoving her emotions back down with much practice. His question earned a nod, however. "I was just on my way home, actually. It is nothing like Ithaca and the home you built, but it is shelter, and it is private."

The time difference threw him off. It had been a good while longer than 2 weeks for him. He looked lost for a long moment, confusion clear on his scarred face. His eyes were distant, even as he continued to hold his wife. "I don't understand how you found yourself here. I made sure you were given all the proper rites. You had the obol needed for passage. I understand why I am here - I likely wasn't given that. But you should have been granted all that." There was anger simmering just under the surface. He expected that what waited him after death would not be pleasant. But he struggled to accept that Penelope had been so mistreated. His thoughts went to Telemachus, and his brow furrowed with worry. Resting his chin on her shoulder while continuing to hold her he sighed. "It has been much longer than two weeks since I lost you both back home." Straightening some and wiping at tears still trying to streak his cheeks, he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and tried to smile. "Can we go somewhere more private? I expect we both have much to share, my love."

His grip tightened on her, his hand embracing the back of her head in a gesture she long missed, and the walls went from cracked to broken, the emotions overwhelming her. It took a long moment of tears and quiet sobs into his shoulder before she realized he too was crying. This realization made her own grip tighten, holding him closer, as if to provide him some of her own assurance that she was there for him. His words made the sobbing harsher, a wail of relief, love, and long buried pain muffled into his cloak. She'd felt so alone for twenty years. It was a different kind of loneliness that only a partner could fix than what her son could provide. She'd had to shield so much from the boy to keep him from worrying, to keep him strong, especially from those damn monsters who had crept around their home. Odysseus' question - she had no idea he'd gone for Nobody as his name after everything - made her mind focus on something other then the downward spiral of how she'd failed her son and her kingdom. How she'd failed him. She swallowed hard, gasping for air for a moment before she could even form the words, "Two weeks." Two weeks since she'd woken up without any comfort, in a place nothing like what had always been described to her in the stories. Two weeks all alone and searching for her son or her husband, or even Eurylochus or Polites - anyone she might have known to be friendly to her. She didn't like being alone with nothing but her thoughts. It was painful.

Nobody - Odysseus - wrapped her up in his arms protectively, tears of his own now falling. To go from the excitement of getting home to the rage and despair of a broken man with nothing left, to near apathy as he wandered on the roads, to here with his wife in front of him was too much for the old soldier and former king to take. One hand came up to lovingly grip at the nape of her neck and back of her head, a gesture of devotion and reassurance he thought he'd never be able to give again. "I'm here, Penelope. And I will not be torn from your side again, Gods be damned." There were two he had positive feelings toward - Athena and Hermes, a number he was indifferent or apathetic about, and many more who terrified him or who he outright loathed. Hopefully they couldn't come here without Hades' support. That was one God he'd been grateful hadn't gotten involved in his journey. He'd likely observed and let them pass. "How long have you...?" He trailed off, not wanting to ask if she'd been here instantly after losing her life but also wanting to know how long she'd been alone. And he suspected she was. If their son were here, he'd have refused to let his mother walk to and from their home alone. Though the boy had been dying as he arrived, the number of suitors who'd breathed their last was impressive. Over 30 men. Athena had been training him well. No. This was not the time to dwell on that. Penelope was here and needed him.

The tenderness underneath his rough hands shattered something in Penelope's chest, something long buried. For so long she'd needed to keep it buried so she could focus on keeping those rabid dogs at bay. On keeping Telemachus safe. On raising him to not be like those horrible men that invaded their home. He pulled her close, gingerly at first, as if he wasn't sure she'd welcome his touch. The broken pieces surged forward and she wrapped her arms up and clutched at his cloak and back, desperate for the comfort of her love. Why was she so emotional? Tears stung at her eyes, burning and blurring her vision. She tried to keep it in check. She was trying so hard but the emotions refused to be ignored any longer. Love, affection, relief flooded her. It was so hard. She shook her head, buried against his chest. He still smelled the same... "No... I'm... I'm... Oh, Odysseus..." She couldn't form the words. Penelope couldn't get her words to form coherently. He'd think her a fool, truly.

He moved to meet her as she reached for him in return, rough hands grasping at hers. Confusion flickered behind his eyes though, as she apologized to him. Why was she apologizing? It wasn't her fault that the beasts who'd come sniffing around to demand she pick a new husband had turned on her. If anything, he should be the one to apologize. "There's nothing to apologize for. You fought fiercely to buy me time. I should be begging your forgiveness for being just moments too late." Nobody's voice was rough with emotion, and he didn't bother to hide any of it. Gently, he pulled her into an embrace, watching for any signs of distress as he did so. Her answers on what this place actually was were chilling though. He'd thought that the river is where any who couldn't pay the toll went. But she'd had her toll paid. So had his son. Why was she stuck here? So many questions raced through his head, though he kept them all silent, not wanting to overwhelm her with any of them. Especially as it seemed there would be time enough later.

She didn't flinch away when he revealed himself, but instead, calloused fingers reached up and pulled back her own hood, revealing brown hair up in an intricate updo, interspersed with streaks of silver and grey. Tentatively, she stepped forward, towards his outstretched hand. Tears welled in her eyes as she took in all the scars that covered him, and her heart ached again, but this time... this time it was different then just a moment ago. What had transpired that caused her husband to be here? Even if she hadn't made it, she had wished that he at least could live his life. Clearly, the gods thought otherwise, though. Penelope could read each emotion as it flicked across his features, and her feet continued her forward. Dark eyes remained on him, and she slowly reached out herself toward him, wanting to touch him. She wanted to prove to herself he was there. That he was real and solid and there. "I'm sorry, Odysseus." For so much, but especially for having to give him that news to start. His eyes were different then she remembered...

It was all he could do to stay on his feet as he stared at his wife. His legs trembled as he took a cautious step toward her, his knees threatening to buckle. He pulled the hood down, revealing a weathered and scarred face, framed with wavy dark brown hair streaked with grey. Red eyes stared at her as a myriad of emotions flashed across his face. "It is. I-" Nobody's voice cracked as he tried to continue, emotions a jumbled mess that made speaking difficult. "If we are seeing each other, I suppose that means I too am..." Dead. The thought was finished silently as he reached out a shaky hand, the scars on which were easily traced with one's eyes. If she was here, was their son? Were any of his crew? He had many questions, though a different emotion than the fear and confusion slowly but surely shoved all the others down in a box to be ignored. He felt joy, though it was slightly colored by fear. He wasn't the man she'd fallen in love with.

The man couldn't stay still. He fidgeted and fussed, unable to stop from giving his hands something to do. Nervous. He was nervous? Her mind worked quickly, though no where near as fast as her husband's had been. He'd once admitted it was part of why he'd pursued her in the first place, and the memory warmed her heart for a moment. How she missed him. She still believed he'd been almost home, but the suitors had the same thought and made their move soon after she'd made her challenge known. She swallowed, pushing the memories aside to deal with later - if at all. Then he stopped, his gaze snapping up at her as she spoke, and to her, he seemed suddenly off balance. It was a large bit of news to give someone, and so it didn't surprise her that he reacted like - Penelope stopped short herself. Her name, with such hope and reverence it made her heart ache, spoken so gently... It couldn't be. Her eyes flicked over him, trying to piece together his identity, though her heart screamed she knew him. She swallowed again, her shoulders relaxing only the smallest degree. Did she dare hope? "Odysseus? Is that you?"

Nobody could feel the tenseness in the air between them. He wasn't sure what had caused her to tense, hoping it wasn't his eyes nor anything else he couldn't change. Her weight had shifted, which told him that there was at least a degree of nervousness. He wished Athena were there to guide him on how to approach this. He wasn't good with people anymore. Shifting slightly himself, he dropped his hands to his sides before bringing one up to fiddle with the fastener keeping it in place over his armor. A glimpse of said armor could be seen underneath the cloak, revealing that he was in no way dressed for the weather. As she spoke, his fidgeting stopped, his eyes going wide. That voice. It couldn't be. She had died. And yet... Then her words hit him: "where lost souls end up." Was this the afterlife? It didn't feel like the Underworld. He remembered that all too well. If this was indeed where lost souls came to find themselves then that meant... His mind was entirely off balance, and it took another moment for him to form words - even if it was just a singular name. "Penelope?"

From this distance, she couldn't really make out much of his features, not with his hood drawn as forward as her own was. She kept her distance, one hand resting on the side of the building she stood beside, trying to hide any signal that she might take flight if the wrong move was made. Still, he wasn't being aggressive. Yet. Why did something about his voice seem familiar? Like a distant lullaby from when she was a girl, it was comforting but just out of her mind's reach, despite how gruff and sharp it was to the untrained ear. Penelope studied him more intently as he spoke, trying to piece together why her mind felt comforted by this stranger. Older. Weary. He seemed to be studying her with just as much intensity as she did him, as well, and her weight shifted. That was the only clue that she was uneasy - or so she hoped at any rate. "Ah, so you found yourself here the same way as many others here, than. We are in a place called Infernum, stranger, where lost souls end up."

A woman revealed herself, greeting him with an observation that he had no way to deny. He was lost. And underneath everything, this new and strange place frightened him. Not that he'd let that show out in the open like this. Open arms, my friend... echoed in his mind and he had to shake himself out of the downward spiral that threatened to overtake him at that haunting inner voice. He had many, all of them friends or family, and they often haunted his sleep. They'd always haunted his waking moments. "I suppose you could say that. One moment I was fighting bandits off, and the next I was stumbling forward and here." Revealing some information was necessary, regardless of how he handled this. There was something that was niggling at him from the recesses of his mind. She'd not said much, but her voice was familiar. If he could get her talking more, perhaps it would help. He studied her as he waited for her response. She had a warm cloak on, though he couldn't see much beyond that. There was fur lining it though - something he was feeling just a slight bit jealous over. He hoped his eyes, with their red glow, didn't alarm her overly much. It was something that had drawn far too much unwanted attention both while he remained in Ithaca and on the road after. "Where are we?"

Penelope drew her own cloak closer around her thinning form, glad for the fur that lined the insides, keeping her warm against the biting teeth of cold that threatened. She had been walking home to her small apartment after a long day of work as a weaver. The irony in that was not lost on the former queen, and she'd enjoyed the quiet. Her own cloak hood was forward to keep the cold at bay from her sensitive cheeks, keeping the wind at bay. As she rounded a corner, she stopped. There, ahead of her, was a figure, and instinctively, she stepped back around the corner to hide herself out of view while she watched him. Save very select people, men made her nervous, and this figure had the distinct bearing of one, with broad shoulders barely hidden under his unmistakably thin cloak. The newcomer seemed lost, confused, and her body stiffened as he whipped around to stare in her general direction, his eyes searching. And then he'd demanded she show herself. Penelope swallowed back her nerves. She then stood straighter, shoulders squared and her chin tilted ever so slightly. She needed to not show he made her uncomfortable, that he had that kind of power over her - just like she'd had many years of practice doing by the time - "Hello, stranger. You seem lost."

The man paused as he snapped back to himself, confusion written clearly across his face - or what parts of it could be seen past the hooded cloak he wore. He'd been mid struggle with bandits on the road he'd chosen to wander when someone had clubbed the back of his head. Almost instinctively a hand shot up to the spot, a low hissed exclamation accompanying the motion as the spot throbbed in protest. Straightening to look around himself, searching for any sign of the lot who'd surrounded him, Nobody found himself alone. A light fog hung in the air around him, chillier than almost anything he'd experienced before. His breath puffed out in front of him, and he shivered, wrapping his arms around himself under the cloak. He took a second, closer look - a double-take, really - when he got a better look at some of the buildings around him. "What sort of sorcery is this?" he muttered to himself. The architecture wasn't anything like what he'd encountered before, during, or after the war on his way home. Some sort of creature or god or... something had to be here, as these buildings were far beyond anything that mere mortals could create. Pulling the hood a bit tighter around himself, he grimaced at the armor he wore under it. In any other situation it was more than enough to keep the biting cold at bay. Here? It felt a great deal colder, like the harshest of winter nights and then some and his gear was not up to the challenge. As he stared at one of the tallest buildings in front of him, he became distinctly aware of someone watching him. He'd always had a good sense of that, to the point it had greatly annoyed Athena when she had wanted to watch him from a distance. This didn't feel quite the same as that, though. "I know you're there. Show yourself."

"No. No. Stop that." He muttered quietly into the other man's ear, his breath brushing against the other man's hair. He squeezed the man tightly, holding him closer still. Tears stung at his own eyes, dripping free into Eurylochus' shoulder as he tried to remain strong for the other man. He was the Captain after all. His men looked to him for strength. Not that he deserved the title after everything. He swallowed back the lump in his throat, his other hand running up and down Eury's back to try and soothe him. "It is mine own fault. As your captain it fell on me to keep you all safe and I failed horribly in that regard." He said, his voice still soft, but there was definite firmness there.

Eurylochus was entirely unprepared for the embrace. When his head was pulled in closer for a more intimate embrace he all but melted. His arms came up to wrap around Odysseus, and he buried his face in the other man's shoulder. Deep, heaving breaths foreshadowed the sobs that soon followed, and he tightened the embrace. "I-I'm so sorry. It was all my fault. You deserved a better second-in-command and l-lover. It's m-my fault they all died."