Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The girl stared at her hands. Soft, delicate hands that should be used to paint or pick flowers. Hands that she instead abused with the work in the Mine until they were bleeding and burning. Why she ever started working in the Mine, she did not remember. She only knew she couldn't stop with it, or else, there would be consequences.

Serious consequences. 

"Hey, Ruthie!"

The girl looked up when someone called her name. At least, she thought it was. It had to be - it was the only thing she remembered from her time before the Mine. It would be weird, she reasoned, to remember a name that wasn't her own. And yet... it felt wrong to use it. Like it didn't quite belong to her.

A middle-aged man with a tangled black beard walked up to her. He was one of the oldest workers and their unofficial leader. He was known as Rico, although that probably wasn't his real name.

"C'mon, Ruth, we're almost done for the day. An hour or so and you can go home."

Sighing, the girl picked up her pickaxe and started chopping again. 

"Home" in this case was one out of many big, square buildings made of the same bricks as the Wall around Hadestown. It provided the Workers of a not-so-soft bed and one meal a day. You couldn't quite call it "comfortable", but it was not the material that made the house a home. It was the people.

About thirty of the Workers, including the girl, sat down in a circle. It was time for what they called it The Night of Memories. Every once in a while, the Workers sat together and tried to remember. They spoke about their lives before the Mine, they told funny stories and sad tales, they sang songs together. It was their way of coping with their memory loss, of not being consumed by the endless working in Hadestown. Ruthie didn't know if other Workhouses did this too, but she liked to hear the tales, the songs, the faded pieces of people's lives. Even though she remembered nothing at all.

When everyone was settled, Rico stood up. "Who starts tonight?" he asked.

After a couple of seconds, an old woman with white hair spoke. "I believe it was my turn." She cleared her throat. "I remember a song my mother always sang to me when I was scared or angry. It helped me calm down." She hummed a melody. Then, she sang a couple of phrases.

"Days are cold, nights are dark..."

"...it may be hidden, it may seem gone..."

"...the only thing you have to do...

is let me walk with you."

It wasn't complete. It didn't have to be. The sentences were beautiful on their own. 

Next, a young man stood up. He told a vague but funny story about he and a couple of friends walking home from a party. Many laughed at their stupid, drunk behavior.

A shy girl who never said anything spoke with a shivering voice: "I remember the smell of bread. Fresh, crispy bread." She looked at the others with a defensive glare, but they just nodded in understanding. She relaxed a bit.

And so, they went on for a while. Ruthie was completely absorbed in the stories, until Rico announced: "Let the Named one bless this round!" 

Suddenly, everything looked at her. Her face turned red because of the sudden attention and she stammered: "Wha- m... me?"

"You're the only one with a name here, aren't you?" Rico joked. A bit more serious, he added: "C'mon Ruth, I'm sure you remember something..."

Not wanting to disappoint him, she racked her brain. She searched every corner of her mind, trying to find anything. A smell, a song, a funny moment, it didn't matter what! But it did not work. She found nothing, except for the thing she already knew.

"I can't... I don't..." She sighed. "There's nothing. I remember nothing. Except... just the name: Ruthie. But I already told you guys that..."

The Workers looked at her sympathetically, but Ruthie could feel the disappointment radiating from them. Tears started forming in her eyes. She didn't want to disappoint them! She wished she could tell them more, too, but she just did not have the kind of memories they had! The only thing she knew, was a stupid name and a vague, everlasting sadness in her chest.

"Okay, the Night is over!" Rico announced, noticing that the atmosphere changed. "Go to sleep everyone, if we're not on time tomorrow the boss'll kill us, you know it."

The Workers grumbled, but they stood up and walked to their beds. Soon, only she and Rico were in the room. 

"Rico, I..." she started, but Rico cut her of. "It's okay, little one," he hushed, sitting down next to her. "You shouldn't be bothered. None of us really remember."

"But at least they 're able to tell something!" she burst out. "With their songs and party nights! All I got is this dumb feeling and a name."

Rico was quiet for a moment. "Do you know the people who didn't speak tonight?" he then said. "The ones who stayed silent?" She nodded, and he smiled. "They don't remember anything, too. Or at least not enough to talk about. They're just like you. You're not alone, Ruth." 

It wasn't a big comfort to hear that, but she still felt a little bit lighter. "Thank you, Rico." She yawned. "I think I'm going to bed."

Rico nodded. "Yeah, that's probably smart," he chuckled. "Sleep well, little one." 

The girl had a dream.

She dreamt of a field full of snow. It was cold, biting cold, and the field looked preciously serene. But despite its beauty, the girl didn't feel calm, or happy, or even impressed. She felt panic and despair twirl in her stomach. She heard a voice, sobbing.

"No, Ruth, stay with me, please... I know you're cold, and hungry, but we'll find food tomorrow... no, I will find food tomorrow, you'll never have to do anything again, just stay with me, please... stay awake, Ruth... I'll do better, I promise... just stay, please..." 

The voice sobbed harder. It still spoke, but it was now inaudible for the girl. Her whole body shaked from the sobs escaping her throat. 

Wait... my throat?

That's when the girl realized she was the one sobbing, the one begging somebody to stay alive. That's when she realized she was holding someone, someone whos heart pounded way to slow, so slow, and then it stopped.

Dreams are sweet, until they're not.

Some dreams have never been sweet at all.

Chapter Text

The girl stared at her hands. She knew she was supposed to be working, but she couldn't. Her head was too full, the noise was too loud, and with every chop, it became harder to raise the pickaxe again. 

She didn't understand. She was Ruthie! That was supposed to be her name! But ever since she had that dream (or rather a nightmare), she wasn't so sure anymore. It seemed that someone else was Ruthie.

But then, who was it? 

And why would she remember their name, instead of her own?

The questions haunted her, day and night. She couldn't work or sleep. It drove her crazy. She needed answers, but they were nowhere to be found.

"Raaaagh!"

In a fit of rage, she grabbed the pickaxe and shattered a stone with one blow. Gasping for air, she stared at the pieces. A useless action, a waste of energy she immediately regretted.

"Hey, Ruthie."

The girl didn't look up to see who it was; she already knew by hearing his voice that it was Rico who talked to her.

"Ruthie, are you OK?" he asked while kneeling down to her level and looking her in her eyes. "The last few days you seemed a bit... off."

"It's fine, really," she muttered. She tried to raise her pickaxe again, but Rico stopped her. "No, Ruth, it's not, I can tell," he said while putting his hand on her shoulder.

She swallowed, trying to keep the tears in. She felt like a little kid, crying for nothing more than a nightmare which she had days ago. The Workers from Hadestown rarely had dreams, because dreams were things one's mind created to process memories. But if a Worker had a dream, it was always a vague memory from their past life. So, dreams were considered good things. 

But my dream wasn't "good", the girl thought. It was horrifying. She wondered if Rico would think her dreams were weird. But no, she had always been able to tell him everything. Rico was like the father she must have once had! 

Eventually, she whispered: "I... had a dream a few days ago."

Rico's eyes lit up. "Oh! Well, that's good news, isn't it?" 

"This... was a bad dream," the girl replied quietly. "A nightmare." 

Rico's gaze softened. "That must have been hard," he said gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She hesitated. "Won't The Fates notice we stopped working?"

They looked at the The Fates, who were supposed to watch The Workers where Hades couldn't. But the girl guessed they were bored, because they weren't really paying attention. In fact, Lachesis was holding a bottle of wine, just taking a sip, and Clotho and Atropos were laughing at some joke she apparantly had told.

"Nahh, I dont think they will," Rico said, smiling. 

Silence filled the air between them. The girl didn't talk. She wanted to, but she didn't know what to say. How to start. But when she saw Rico's encouraging, soft smile, the words tumbled out of her mouth.

"There... there a was a field. A field full of snow. And it was so, so cold." She shivered at the thought, but still, she continued. "I... I wasn't alone. Someone else... a girl, laying in my arms..." She swallowed. "She felt so small and fragile, Rico... I could feel her heart pounding, but it wasn't... right, it was too slow, and then... then it stopped..."

She could not say more. Her voice drowned in the tears spilling from her eyes. She finally cried — for the girl in her dream, for herself, and for so, so many other things.

Rico wrapped his warm, strong arms around her and comforted her. "It's gonna be OK," he muttered. "I'm here for you." She dove deeper into his arms.

The girl didn't know how long it took for her to pull herself together; in the Underworld, time loses its name, just like her. But eventually, she dried her tears and slowly stepped away from Rico's embrace. 

"I... I think we should get back to work," she muttered, embarrassed, but grateful all the same. Rico had done so much for her, and she already felt better because of his bear hug.

Rico's smile faltered a bit, but he nodded. The girl realised that it was probably a bit rude to step away like that and go on like he hadn't just prevented a mental breakdown. Quickly, she added: "Hey, Rico... thank you. I really needed that."

Rico grinned, a bright, fatherly smile that made her feel safe. "Anytime, little one."