In My Life

Do you hear the people sing?

Singing a song of angry men?

It is the music of a people

Who will not be slaves again!

When the beating of your heart

Echoes the beating of the drums

There is a life about to start

When tomorrow comes!

--Herbert Kretzmer



"You just left?" Hercules asked.



"Yeah, well, she didn't need me anymore. And I didn't really wanna stick around and watch her die of old age."



"That's by far the hardest part of being immortal." said Hercules. "Watching your children age and die. All you can do is be happy that you had them when you did and hope you did right by them."



"Here, here." Autolycus agreed. "I did kinda spy on my great-grandkids once when they were out playing in the courtyard one day. The oldest boy was 17. Looked a lot like me at that age, only, well, happier. He eventually took the throne. You know, there's a good chance I'm a direct ancestor of the Sultan of Brunei. Maybe I'll visit him one of these days."



"Just for a family get together, right?" Hercules asked with a teasing smile.



Autolycus chuckled and sipped his coffee. "You wanna talk about families? Tell me about that three-way you were in. Hercules, you're the /last/ person I'd expect to find in a three-way!"



"Well, first of all," said Hercules. "I don't think of myself in terms of gay, straight, bi, whatever they call it now. I love a person. I love the wonderful person they are. It just so happened that in 1789, Troyes, France, I loved a man and a woman. And they both loved me. And they loved each other.



"I'm not exactly sure what happened when I first met Jean-Pierre. I just woke up one morning with a splitting headache. I was in some one room flat, in bed, while this man with curly blond hair was cooking some sausages by the fire."



"Curly and blond?" Autolycus cocked an eyebrow. "Still carrying a torch for Smallberry Shortcake?"



Hercules had to laugh. "Be glad you never called him that when he was alive! You know, now that I think about it, Jean-Pierre did look a lot like Iolaus. Well, thing is, I had no memory of Iolaus. I couldn't even remember who I was. I couldn't remember a thing about myself. Had a case of amnesia. Again."



"Again?"



"Yeah, the first time I was told I was married a princess and was almost sacrificed to Hera...but you don't wanna hear that. Well, Jean-Pierre gave me breakfast and told me his name. I apologized, saying I couldn't remember my own. Oh, I spoke French, but couldn't remember where I learned it from. Jean-Pierre decided Robért was as good a name as any. He confessed that when he found me slumped over in a back ally, he was thinking of just looting my body, until I started to get up and mumbled something in some language he didn't understand. Maybe I said something in Greek, but I don't really remember. He helped me walk up to the room he was renting and put me in his bed. I don't remember, this is just what he told me.



"Jean-Pierre told me what he could, what he thought would be important for me to know. We were in Troyes. It was spring of 1787. The rent was 100 francs a month, and I could stay with him if I helped him earn money for rent and groceries. Well, I didn't have anywhere else to be that I could remember, so I agreed.



"Jean-Pierre had some water heating over the fire for me. He wasn't exactly obsessed with cleanliness, but, frankly, I kinda reeked and I had a few days worth of stubble. You know, I never cared much for those paintings and sculptures of me with a beard. I just never liked having one. Didn't look right, didn't feel right and was too much upkeep."



"Just go for the 'stash. That's what I do."



"Facial hair just makes me look too much like the Sovereign. Anyway, Jean-Pierre gave me a cloth and a sliver of soap. He was going to just leave and give me some privacy when I noticed my right arm was just a mass of bruises. Must've hurt it same time I got whacked on the head. I told Jean-Pierre I could probably wash with my left hand, but I'd like it if he shaved me.



"So, Jean-Pierre sorta stuck around. He was acting like he wasn't watching, but I could tell he was looking at me, and it was pretty clear he liked what he saw. He was cute. Just sort of blushing like a schoolboy. I asked him if he'd do my back for me. He said 'I'd be glad to do you!'" Autolycus laughed. "He got so flustered. He said he meant he'd do my back. He had such nice hands; strong, but gentle.



"After he helped me dry off, he started brushing the lather on my face and got to work with the razor. He was so very careful. Didn't nick me once. He told me I had a very handsome face. I told him he wasn't bad looking himself. Jean-Pierre was always so cute when he blushed. He told me I might look even nicer with my hair brushed and tied back in a ponytail. That's how most men were wearing it then."



Hercules sighed dreamily. "Those hands of his were so nice. My hair was a rat's nest, but he managed to smooth it out without pulling too hard. He asked me if I was a nobleman. I had no memory either way. He told me I was so tall, so handsome and I carried myself like someone important but, gracefully."



"Gracefully?"



"That's the word he used. But, I wasn't dressed like a member of nobility, didn't have anything of any value on me. Jean-Pierre couldn't figure out what a nobleman would be doing in his neighborhood anyway. He said I was like a swan wallowing in a chicken coop."



"This Jean-Pierre sounds like a real poet."



"He could rhapsodize when he was in the mood. He tied my hair back for me, then...he kissed me. Jean-Pierre was a great kisser. He untied my hair so he could run his fingers through it." Hercules sighed at the memory. "Well, I don't have to tell you what happened next."



"I've got a good guess."



"He was so gentle with me, since there was no way of knowing if I had ever done that before. When it was over he laid next to me and told me if I could give him that kind of loving every night, he'd forget about asking me for rent money."



"So, you got yourself a sugar daddy?"



"He was half kidding. Money was hard to come by. The next day, he told me what he did to get money and started teaching me how to do it too."



"I can see it now. Hercules: Male Gigolo."



"Actually, our job was similar to yours. Jean-Pierre considered himself a highwayman extraordinaire. He tried to show me how to do it, but, even without my memory, I guess thievery just isn't in me. I'm certain I tried Jean-Pierre's patience a time or two. I tried. I wanted him to think I was as impressive as he was. I just ended up getting in his way a lot."



"You realize you're starting to sound a bit like Joxer?"



"Well, where banditry was concerned, I might as well have been Joxer. It's just not a skill of mine. My heart just wasn't in it. I only did it because it was all Jean-Pierre knew and all he could teach me."



"Don't feel too bad. No one can be good at everything."



"Jean-Pierre had a fiery spirit. He'd get mad whenever I messed up one of our robberies, he'd yell at me, I'd feel awful about screwing up, he'd feel bad about yelling at me and apologize then we'd have make-up sex."



"Joxer and I went through the same cycle when we first got together." Autolycus stubbed out his spent cigarette. "Then he decided to go the traveling troubadour rout. It fit him better."



"One time we did manage to steal a suitcase. Had nothing but clothes, a three cornered hat and a book of Charles Perrault's fairy tales. I was surprised to find out I could read, something Jean-Pierre couldn't do. He was almost sure I was a nobleman then. I told him I didn't know and didn't care. I just wanted to be with him."



"Didn't either of you notice you were freakishly strong?"



"Since I didn't know how strong I was, I didn't think to control it. Jean-Pierre and I thought I was just clumsy. We speculated sometimes about who I really was, but after a while it was just for fun, like me reading Perrault to him. I was too strongly built to be a nobleman, and being literate almost guaranteed I wasn't a laborer."



"When did you get your memory back?"



"Well, a couple years after I settled in with Jean-Pierre, we tried to rob a coach that belonged to Lady Marie DuValle."



"Same Marie you two got into the three-way with?"



"Getting ahead of yourself, Autolycus. Actually, the robbery was a bit of a set up. Jean-Pierre and I made a deal with this nobleman named Francois. Francois had lost nearly all of his fortune drinking and gambling and had a plan to get more money. The plan required a pair of filthy peasants- that would be me and Jean-Pierre. See, there was this revolutionary hero running about Troyes at the time known as the Chartreuse Fox. Francois' plan was to convince Marie that he was the Chartreuse Fox and that he needed money to fund the revolution. He would then make a bet with Marie saying that if he could convince a pair of lowly peasants that the revolution was worth fighting for, she would give him all her fortune. That's when Jean-Pierre and I stepped in."



"Oh, what a coinky-dink." said Autolycus. "Make a bet including a couple of peasants and they just happen to show up. Marie sounds pretty dim to go along with this. How'd you end up with her? Jean-Pierre at least seems to be living in the real world."



"I'm getting there. Part of the 'pep talk' to get me and Jean-Pierre to join the cause was to tell tales about, well, me. They told tales of the mighty Hercules, or Hercùle as they pronounced it. And, well, I guess hearing about my adventures reminded me who I was. It didn't come all rushing back to me at once, just little by little. It was a good year or so before I remembered I was Hercules, but this was a step in the right direction.



"It appeared our trick worked. Until Marie turned the tables on us. It turned out she was the Chartreuse Fox all along. She acted like she was going to blithely hand over her fortune, then she pretended she saw guards outside the window and got us all to hide. While we were hiding, she stole the very last of Francois' fortune and got away, leaving a yellow rose as her calling card."



"That is one tricky woman." Autolycus said admiringly.



"Not long after, she was arrested, identified as the Chartreuse Fox and sentenced to the guillotine for treason. Francois and Jean-Pierre were just going to cut their losses and move on, but I felt that rescuing Marie would be the right thing to do. I guess I inspired Francois and Jean-Pierre to help me. Jean-Pierre was surprisingly good with a sword. Francois wasn't the best fighter, but he could throw a punch if he had to. And Marie, once I got her out of the guillotine and put a sword in her hand, well, I think she could've gone toe to toe with Xena. She could've easily defeated the captain of the guards, but decided to humiliate him instead. We joined her cause, fighting the revolution, helping the oppressed in whatever way we could.



"After that, I began asking Marie and Francois for more stories about 'Hercùle'. It just sounded so familiar. I'm afraid Jean-Pierre got a little jealous that I was spending so much time with Marie. He had every right to be. She was a wonderful, brave, beautiful woman. I was falling in love with her, but part of me still loved Jean-Pierre. It was a very confusing time for me. More confusing than when I first lost my memory. When I told Marie that I loved both her and Jean-Pierre, she was surprisingly understanding. She decided to diffuse the situation by inviting Jean-Pierre to join us in bed. He was pleasantly surprised when we made this proposal to him."



"And so you became one of a male harem."



"I think it takes more than two to make a harem."



"What, you didn't invite Francois over?"



"Oh, we liked Francois well enough, but just as a friend. None of us were that attracted to him. He was straight as an arrow, so that suit him fine. Well, eventually, Marie became pregnant. No DNA testing at the time, so no telling which of us was the father. We wouldn't have gone for it if there was. I think she may have been Jean-Pierre's. Victoire had these big, baby blue eyes and gold blonde curls. Of course, so did her mother, so it could've been me, but there's no way to be sure. Anyway, it didn't matter. She had a Papa Robért and a Papa Jean-Pierre."



"Ah. Victoire has Two Papas." said Autolycus.



"Well, Marie's line of work was dangerous to say the least. When Victoire was three, Marie was killed in action. Jean-Pierre and I divided our time between fighting for the cause she died for and raising Victoire. 'Oncle Francois' was her favorite baby sitter.



"Just before and during the Revolution, Jean-Pierre and I were spies for the cause. Spying isn't that different from acting. The only difference is with acting, if you mess up you get a bad revue. If you mess up in spying, you could really lose your head. It was during this time I learned to do cobbling."



"You made shoes?"



Hercules chuckled. "No, in spy terms, 'cobbling' means making up fake documents. That way, if you need a passport on the rush or something to prove you're someone else, you got it. It's become trickier in recent years, but I've managed to pull it off. Out of necessity, of course."



"Of course." said Autolycus. "I've had to use more than a few fake ID's myself."



"Not long after the war was over and France was liberated, Francois' cousin died of consumption and left his estate to Francois. By then, he had come to think of us as family and invited us to come live with him. When Victoire was 16, she married a baron's son. Jean-Pierre and I both gave her away. We were a little sad to see her go. She was just like her mother. Bright, bold, beautiful. But, we both knew Alphonse loved her and would take care of her. The two of them opened up hospitals, orphanages, soup kitchens. They were so dedicated to continuing the mission to uplift the disadvantaged.



"In a little over ten years after Victoire was married, Jean-Pierre contracted smallpox. Francois and I did all we could to help him, but it was no use. Victoire was called to his bed to say good-bye to him. Then I said good-bye to her. With both my lovers dead and Victoire married well, I didn't feel a need to stay. Francois told me I could stay forever if I wanted. He'd even leave me the estate when he died. Victoire told me I should stay because I was about to be a grandfather. I told them both that I loved them, but they didn't need me and I just couldn't stay any longer. The next morning, I took a ship down the Seine and didn't get off until it hit Le Havre."



"What? You didn't wanna stop in Paris?"



"At the time, Paris was just like Troyes, only bigger. I needed to get away from France. So, I hitched a ride across the channel on a clipper bound for Brighton, England. By 1840, I found myself in London where I managed to get an interesting job. Paid the bills, kept me occupied and I met a lot of interesting people."



"What was the job?"



"History professor at Eton."

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A/N: The events in this chapter are inspired by the clip show "Les Contemptables". My husband gave me the idea of Robért actually being an amnesiac Hercules.

That's enough chapters for now. I'll load up five more next week. If you would like to see a chapter of this fic written in 3rd person prose, just leave a review and name which one you like.

Also, I'm working on a time line that will be posted as soon as all chapters are up. HTLJ was never clear on what exact time the events happen. XWP gave conflicting hints too. We had a young Homer (prior to 700 BC) co-existing with Julius Caesar (d. 44 BC) about "A thousand winters before Camelot" (500 BC). And don't get me started on those hints of a certain baby with the initials J.C. being born nearby! I decided to have the events happen a few years after the death of Caesar. My arithmetic is bad enough without BC and AD tripping me up.