#i thought i would just drop the idea that Polites saw Ody during Just A Man and leave

[witless-winion1]

imagine Polites was in the courtyard for the last battle of Troy. Imagine he looks up from bandaging a comrade’s injury, and sees his friend. Helmet off, head lowered, face pinched in what could only be described as anguish. Polites would have called to him, but he knows better than to interrupt Ody during his Big Brain Thinking moments.

but then his friend raises something into view over the wall; a swaddle of white, and it’s squirming, enough that Polites could see it from where he stands, now frozen in confusion and inexplicable dread. Odysseus loved kids and babies, he wouldn’t harm one for any reason. Hell, he’d cried so hard when Penelope gave birth to Telemachus that he’d nearly passed out from dehydration. He’d spared every child in every battle in this ten-year war.

but his friend extends his arm, holding the swaddle precariously by the ends of the blanket, over the thirty foot drop onto the solid stone ground. The innocent baby just wiggles unconcernedly.

Polites opens his mouth, but whatever he was going to say (because he certainly didn’t know himself) gets caught, and then his friend let’s go.

and Polites can’t turn away as the white swaddle falls, a sudden, tiny cry starting from the hidden infant’s throat, that cuts off when it hits the ground, with a sound that Polites never wanted to hear again, and the white turns red.

Out of every horror he’s seen that night, that’s the one he dreams of when he eventually lays his head down to sleep.

He wakes thrashing, falling out of his hammock, and Odysseus’s hand jerks from his shoulder to his side, catching him before he can hit the ground and aggravate whatever minor injuries he got from the last battle.

Polites has always been a very honest person. Since boyhood, since he told his mother was sick because he ate too much sesamous when he was five, confessed to Odysseus and Eurylochus that he didn’t like hunting when he was nine, told his aunt she was too unkind to the less fortunate then them when he was thirteen.

when Odysseus asks him what troubles him, Polites can’t seem to bring himself to admit the truth.

when they sail for home, he forces himself not to avoid his captain. They’ve all done horrible things in the heat of Ares’ domain. but a baby? whispers his conscious.

Shush, he tells it. There’s a logical solution, there has to be.

and yet Odysseus offers none, and he is too cowardly to ask for it, and gods know he cannot make sense of it no matter how he tosses and turns with the rocking ship.

when they reach the island of the Lotus Eaters, Polites smiles at the funky little guys, adoring their blissful grin. He crouches and strokes it, cooing about how soft it is. Odysseus hums, unfazed, and grumpy. Polites can tell he hasn’t slept well the past few weeks. But he reaches down anyway and picks one up under the arms, studying it from every angle while the innocent creature just wiggles unconcernedly in his hands.

Polites can’t help the urge to gently pull the creature from his hands. He smiles to cover whatever tension there is, and places the lotus eater safely in the ground.

he reminds his friend that there’s no need to constantly be suspicious and prone to fighting; why not default to greeting the world with kindness and open arms? Even though trust may get taken advantage of sometimes, it would at least alleviate the risk of unnecessary blood spilled.

and as Odysseus looks away, Polites sees the pain in his eyes, staring at the Lotus eaters as they tumble around with each other. One drops suddenly from a low tree limb, and while Polites manages to stifle his wince, Odysseus is caught just off-guard enough to flinch when it hits the ground with a thump. The lotus eater got up and ambled off without a scratch.

“This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms,” Polites says softly, reaching out to grasp his friend by the elbow. “I see in your face, there is so much guilt inside your heart…”

Polites could see as the words hit home, his friend’s shoulders drooping as he looks up at him. His eyes are nearly akin to what Argos’s looked like when their ships sailed from Ithaca’s harbor.

“…so why not replace it, and light up the world; here’s how to start…” Polites gently squeezes his arm. “Greet the world with open arms.”

“Greet the world with open arms…” Odysseus repeated softly, leaning into him. Polites let him hide his face in his chest, wrapping him in his arms and letting him hide from the weight of his not-so-secret sins.