Iolaus' wondrous transformation, and his victory on the Plains of Mycenae, were the talk of the village for a couple of months after his safe return home. His kids, now all adults themselves, were proud of him...and not a little awed. Having been born after his escapades with Hercules had long ended, they'd never really believed the extravagant stories of the adventures of their father's youth. But, now they wondered if maybe the stories had all really been true after all. The grandkids, who loved his stories of monsters and gods, accepted the miracle as nothing more than was to be expected of their wonderful grandfather, and were content to pump him for all the gory details.

Elliara was warmed to see him happy again, and beyond grateful to the Fates for having allowed him to come back to her.

But, like all things in life, even miracles, the interest and talk died after a time, and life returned to its calm rhythm. Days melted into weeks, and then into months. And, in those months the cult to the new god grew and word spread of it across Greece, drawing ever more worshipers.

* * *

Ares, when he heard the stories...some idiots actually came to his temples to ask after the 'Warrior God'... at first thought the supplicants meant him. So, he was less than pleased to realize, finally, that there was another god out there, poaching on his turf.

"Great God Ares," the supplicant had whispered, "I humbly ask you to carry my prayers to the Warrior God...."

Like he'd 'carry prayers' to anyone! They were supposed to pray to him!

Seething, Ares materialized in front of the latest, it must be admitted, less than bright, supplicant to demand just who this new Warrior God was supposed to be.

Cowering before the fury of the God, the young would-be warrior mumbled, "Iolaus, Lord, you know, the one who beat...." and then, the supplicant realized how dumb he'd been. How stupid was it to come to worship the victor at the shrine of the God who's forces had been routed in that legendary battle? "Er...you know..." the kid stammered to a halt.

"WHAT???" roared the God. Iolaus? That pint-sized runt who had trailed along after his goody two boots brother for all those years. "You've got to be KIDDING!" he bellowed. Iolaus? A God? It was ridiculous! Mortals weren't gods. They certainly weren't warrior gods. 'Dite was going to pay for this mockery of Olympians. It was all her fault Hercules' pet mortal had been there in the first place.

Oh, Ares hadn't minded how the battle had turned out. A battle was a battle, and the glory of it had been enough to satisfy his boredom for the moment.

But this! It was...mindblowing. Gods, these mortals were sheep. Now they were worshiping a seventy-year-old dodgering old man as a Warrior God! Idiots! All of them! Idiots!

Well, he'd see about this. Thought he was a god, did he?

Ignoring the dolt in front of him, much to the dolt's relief, Ares disappeared in a fiery puff of smoke.

And reappeared in furious splendour in front of the forge where Iolaus was tinkering with the broken wheel of his first great-grandson's toy wagon.

"Who do you think you are!" he raged, bearing down upon Iolaus, who looked up at the God, not really impressed with the sound and fury. He'd seen it all before...often.

"Well, hello, Ares is it? Hi, my name is Iolaus...but you know, I was sure we'd met before," Iolaus replied with a casual shrug.

Undeterred, and unimpressed with the response, Ares strode into the forge and grabbed Iolaus by the front of his shirt, hauling him into the air, so that he could glare into eyes which, after a moment's startlement rapidly blazed back in anger, as Ares shouted into his face, "You are a pitiful, pathetic old man, and I will not have you going around saying you're a god! It's...it's..." Ares spluttered, unable to describe how truly outrageous and unacceptable such an idea was.

"Put him down, Ares, NOW!" a cold voice spoke in his ear. Hercules, who routinely kept a close watch on his intemperate brother, had been right behind the God of War when Ares had set out on his tirade.

Ares opened his fist and Iolaus unceremoniously dropped to the ground, off balance and stumbling a little.

"What in Tarturus are you going on about, Ares?" Iolaus demanded. He might be old, but he was neither pitiful nor pathetic. He'd whupped this guy's butt less than a year ago!

"You! Starting up this ridiculous Cult of Iolaus, the Warrior God," Ares sneered, giving his brother an evil look. "You're probably behind all this. You always did rate this useless runt as something special, for reasons which have always escaped me."

Hercules met the glare with one of his own. "Iolaus had nothing to do with this, Ares, so you can take your 'righteous indignation' elsewhere. Mortals, in awe of his skill and courage in beating your forces to a pulp, started this all on their own."

Ares sniffed, his arms crossed. "Mortals," he spat. "They're all fools!" And then he was gone.

Iolaus had been gazing at Hercules with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. "What's all this about me being a god?"

Hercules was still frowning at the space Ares had occupied. Turning at the question, he hesitated, anticipating Iolaus' reaction when he learned what stories had been spreading about him across the width and length of Greece. The only surprise was that he hadn't heard them before now.

"The League's warriors decided you are a god, and started a cult to worship you after the battle below Mycenae," he explained. "Word of your divinity has been spreading across Greece...and I guess Ares just heard about it."

"My div...a god!" Iolaus repeated, a disbelieving look on his face. He looked down at the body his spirit wore, and shook his head. "I'm an old man! How could anyone think I'm a god?"

"Well, it was the most credible explanation the warriors could come up with to explain your miraculous arrival and youthful strength. Most of them believe you died years ago...so, they decided you must be a god." Hercules shrugged and smiled tentatively, "Seems a reasonable enough assumption to me."

Iolaus looked up at his friend, and he couldn't help it. The idea was ludicrous. He burst out laughing. "Me? A god?" he gasped, holding his side, almost doubled over with mirth. "Gods, Herc, I've heard a lot of ridiculous things in my life...but, that's got to take the prize!"

Herc smiled fondly at this friend, and waited...knowing that when it sank in, Iolaus was likely to have a different reaction. With few exceptions, Iolaus didn't think much of the gods, had never wanted to be one, and....

"You knew about this?" Iolaus challenged, the laughter fading. When Hercules nodded, he demanded, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Shrugging, looking away, Herc replied, "Well..."

"You knew I wouldn't like it much! Gods, Herc, we have to stop this! I don't want people worshipping me!" Iolaus shivered at the thought. "I can't believe this! They think I'm dead?"

Hercules chewed his lip, as he looked back at his best friend. "Well, I guess the stories of the battle have gotten mixed up with the old stories of how we defeated Dahok, when you went into the Light. A lot of years have passed, Iolaus...the younger generation don't all remember that you came back. And, well, they've been leaving offerings at the obelisk...." His voice fell away.

"That you carved for me, above Thebes...." Iolaus completed the thought, appalled. Offerings?

"I think it's too late to stop it...there're thousands of members of the cult and it's spreading like wildfire. You were...are...a popular hero, the stories of your bravery have been told over and over, all through the years. It hasn't taken much for folks to take the stories one step further," Hercules explained quietly.

"My bravery? Get real. Those stories are about you...hardly anyone ever even noticed I was around," Iolaus protested.

Quirking an eyebrow, Herc shrugged, "The stories are about the both of us...and it seems you weren't as invisible as you used to think. They remember you, Iolaus...and they are inspired by you. And, why shouldn't they be? A mortal, who faced all the dangers that anyone could imagine, who guarded the back of a demigod? A warrior, the greatest warrior in Greece, who's courage never faltered...who risked his life time and again to do what was right? And who just did it again, less than a year ago? Hey, you make a better god than any of us up on Olympus...."

Iolaus wearily waved a hand at his friend, turning aside. It was wrong. He wasn't a god. He was a man, an old man at that. People were deceiving themselves, praying to someone who could never hear them, hoping for...something...that would never come. Bad as the gods on Olympus were, they at least heard the prayers, and sometimes they even answered. Ashamed, he amended, the 'bad' reflection. Herc and 'Dite, Zeus, Artemis and Athena, Poseidon, even Hades...they weren't bad. Just...unpredictable. And, except for Hercules, unreliable as well.

But, they were gods. To think people were worshipping him...believing him to be a god. It was wrong!

"I never thought I'd live to see this..." he murmured, dismayed and saddened.

Hercules moved to stand behind his friend, a hand on his shoulder, "The best any god can do, is bring hope, inspire, protect, and encourage people to be the best they can be...and love them. To the extent that you have done all of that, and more, through all of your life, Iolaus, you deserve their good thoughts and thanks. They could choose worse to believe in."

Iolaus just shook his head. "I'm not a god, Herc...gods help them. Because I can't, not anymore."

* * *

Iolaus did his best to just ignore the growing cult to the warrior god, but when a shrine was set up to him, right there in the village, he had to try to stop it. Disgusted and dismayed, he stormed into the small temple one day, interrupting the ceremony.

"Stop this!" he ordered the surprised and confused gathering. "I am not a god and I never will be. You're wasting your time and breath. This...this travesty," he cried, shaking his fists up at the ceiling and waving his arms to encompass the walls, "should be torn down!"

But, they were newcomers, and didn't know him. They saw an old man, his hair gray, his face lined, his body frail, and shook their heads, clearly believing him to be unstable, if not downright crazy. Imagine, him thinking he was the great Warrior God, Iolaus. Two of the young men moved to his side, taking care not to alarm him, and took his arms to escort him outside.

"Take it easy, gramps," one of them said kindly, only to have Iolaus pull away from his hand, furious.

"Gramps? Gramps!" he sputtered, indignant. "If I was your grandfather, you'd know how foolish this is! I am Iolaus, from Thebes, once partner to Hercules. What they saw that day below Mycenae was a miracle, a gift of Aphrodite, of one day of youth. I am not a god!" he yelled, desperate for them to believe him.

But, they didn't. Gently, they forced him from the shrine, and closed the door in his face. He glared at it for a long moment, then his shoulders slumped. How could he battle blind belief and devotion? Shaking his head, he turned away.

"Look out for them, Herc," he muttered under his breath. "Blind fools... someone needs to take care of them!"

* * *

The seasons spun round their eternal cycles, year passing after year in quiet succession, until twenty-three more years had passed. Iolaus had celebrated his ninety-fourth year, and Elliara had danced with him that night. It was to be the last time they danced.

She'd been growing tired. Not unwell...just tired. It took more effort to rise in the morning, and she found herself short of breath during the days. Her ankles had taken to swelling during the day, and her arms ached. Until this past summer, she had walked miles with Iolaus everyday, across the meadow on the other side of the village, through the forest to gather wildflowers. Hand in hand, they had become a familiar sight strolling through the village...familiar and heartwarming. Not all couples were so devoted to one another after fifty years of marriage.

But, now, she grew breathless after a short distance, and so weary she had to lean upon her husband's arm as he steadied her home again.

Iolaus watched, heartbroken, as she grew pale, and weakened more it seemed with each passing day. She was going to leave him. And, he didn't want her to go.

He did all he could to ease her days, and spent long hours just holding her, as they reminisced about the life they had shared, the joy of it...the beauty. She, too, knew she was going, and she wanted to be sure he remembered the wondrousness of their life together, not the sadness of these last days.

One day, she took a chill, and had to take to her bed. It weakened her further, making it harder to breathe, stealing her energy away. She lingered for a week, growing weaker, and weaker.

Until, one night, when Iolaus held her in his arms, to warm her, and just to be near her warmth...the warmth of her heart and spirit...the warmth that had soothed his wounded heart, and brought him happiness again, when he'd thought it gone forever.

She laid with her head on his chest, listening to his heart, the heart which had given her strength, the heart which had touched her soul and bound it with love.

She didn't mind dying, but she hated to leave him.

"I love you," she whispered quietly, her voice little more than a sigh. "You will always be my sun."

He held her close, stroking her back. "I never look at the sky, Elliara, without thinking of you, I never will. I love you, I'll love you until the day I die...and then for every moment after, for all of forever."

She sighed, and settled against him, resting safe and secure in his arms.

And, then, she was gone.

He felt her go, and tears burned his eyes, slipping down his cheeks. "Oh, Elliara," he whispered. "My own sweet love."

He kissed the top of her head, his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her.

Honeysuckle.

Closing his eyes, he whispered a prayer to Hades, to take care of her always.

* * *

He built her pyre with his own hands, not letting anyone, not even Hercules, help him. It was the last task he could do for her. The family was all there, all strong and healthy still. Six children, with their spouses, Thirty-three grandchildren, twenty three with spouses of their own, and forty-one great-grandchildren. Everyone from the villages and farms around came to pay their respects.

Hercules stood beside him, with 'Dite on the other side, sniffing.

Iolaus stepped forward, and pulled a flaming brand from the fire that had been built near the pyre. "Elliara, my love, we will all miss you, your family...your friends. We will miss your wisdom and your laughter. Your beauty and your courage. You gave us love and we give it back to you with all our hearts. We will all miss you, but none so much as I. Rest now, and gather the flowers in the fields of Elysium. Be at peace, my girl. Be at peace," Iolaus said quietly, then shoved the brand into the pyre, standing back as the dry wood caught, and flames rose up on the wind.

He stood and watched until there were no more than ashes. Silent. Remembering. He watched as his children gathered the ashes and placed them in a porcelain urn, to be buried under the old oak by their cottage. He'd watched dry-eyed, his back straight, until it was over.

And, then, he turned to 'Dite, taking her hand. "Thank you, Aphrodite, for always having been kind to her. She loved you well, and was always grateful to have been your priestess, and that you were her friend."

"Oh, Curly, I love her, too," 'Dite whispered quietly, stroking his hair. "She's okay...she wanted me to tell you not to mourn her, but to remember...." The Goddess' voice cracked.

He hugged her. "Thank you...tell her I will...I will remember all the bright days of our life together, and I will always be grateful for her love."

He released the Goddess and turned to his friend. "Hercules...I'll never find the words to thank you having sent me to her, or for the life you have given us, by your bargain with Zeus, all these years."

His composure broke then, and his face crumpled, eyes filling with tears. Hercules drew him forward, hugging him close, holding him while he mourned. "And, I will always be grateful to her, for having made you happy," the god whispered. "Hades said to tell you that he'll take very good care of her."

Hercules felt the frail body shake in his arms. Iolaus had grown old since last night. Tears in his own eyes, Herc held him until the trembling stopped. Then he and Iolaus turned to walk back to the cottage, to join the celebration of Elliara's life with the family and friends who waited for them.

* * *

Iolaus continued alone in the cottage, comforted by the many little touches that spoke of Elliara's love for him. As the days went by, the pain of her loss slipped from a sense of unreal numbness, into a sharper sense of loneliness, and then that, too, faded as the weeks and months rolled on. He kept himself busy making and fixing toys for the children of the village, and with his long solitary walks, and with his fishing trips deep in the forest by the eternal stream.

He tried, consciously, not to slip into melancholia. He was the last of his age. Iph and Jason had died long years before, as had their children. Their grandchildren felt only a remote connection with this old man in a small village near Patros, when they thought of him at all. His own children were entering middle age, busy with their own lives, lives into which he did not wish to intrude too often.

He reflected, one day by the stream, realizing that Elliara had been gone six years now, that time was a mystery. It seemed to run on forever when one was young, a day an endless experience, a week an eternity away and a year too remote to even imagine. But, the years had rolled more swiftly as they piled up together, like an avalanche gathering force until it plummeted and careened down a mountain side, sweeping up all in its path, moving too fast to notice the details of what was being consumed, or missed.

Until, one reached such deep old age that time seemed to slow again. Each day became a gift, if one was prepared to accept it. But the hours could seem interminable, and a year too far ahead to contemplate. He marvelled often, as he reflected back upon his life, at all it had encompassed. He'd lived more than most men would have done in two or three lifetimes...but the days of his youth were the clearest, as if they had happened only yesterday, not far back in the mists of time.

And, inside, it seemed time stood still. Inside, he still felt the same curiousity about the world around him, the same delight in catching a single, silver fish, the same desire to live fully, each and every day. Still, though his mind remained bright and eager for whatever came, he knew his body felt the weight of years, and was slowing down. He walked a good deal slower these days, and tired sooner. When he tried too much, or too fast, he felt a dull ache branch down along his left arm, ending in a sharper pain in his left wrist.

He knew what it meant. His heart was wearing down.

'And, well it should,' he thought, chuckling, as he eased his back against a warm rock and cast his line into the sunbright, rippling stream. 'Your old heart has run farther and faster, beat longer, loved more, than any heart has a right to do. No wonder it's getting tired,' he chided himself.

The sand which measured the moments of his life was running low, running swiftly now as the last grains slipped into the past. In another week, he'd celebrate his one hundredth birthday. He shook his head at the incredible thought. One hundred years. Who would ever have imagined he'd live so long? Chuckling ruefully, as he remembered Zeus' long ago promise, he knew he hadn't.

But, there was no escaping the fact his life was now in the past, his future could not go on much longer. He supposed he shouldn't mind, should instead just be grateful for all that he'd had, but his restless mind could not help venturing toward the future's horizon, wondering at it, wishing he could be part of it. Not like he was, no, but strong again. He smiled at the thought. He'd once had a day more of youthful strength than any man deserves. He'd have to be content with that.

Hercules stood just out of his friend's line of sight, watching him with an aching fondness. He'd seen Iolaus slow down, and had seen his friend's reluctance to let go, his not quite grudging acceptance that his time could well be measured in hours now, days perhaps, weeks if he was lucky. Iolaus rubbed his left arm unconsciously, wincing a little at the almost constant ache there, and Hercules sighed.

It would not be long now. One day...soon...Iolaus' life would end.

Putting a lighthearted grin on his face, the god ambled to his friend's side and dropped down beside him on the grass. It was strange for him, too, to look at this man, and see the gray hair, the myriad lines on Iolaus' face, the thin, frail body and then look into those brilliant blue, unclouded eyes and see the same man, unchanged, who had been the foundation of his life for as long as he could remember.

"Fish biting today?" Herc enquired mildly.

"Not so far," Iolaus replied with a grin. "If something doesn't give soon, I might be reduced to having to ask you to throw a rock in there," he nodded at the stream, "to catch my dinner!"

Herc chuckled warmly. "Just let me know when, Iolaus," he replied, stretching out on the grass, hands linked behind his head, looking up at the clear sky. "So, what are the plans for the big birthday bash?" he asked.

It was rare for a man to reach his centennial year, and the village had been making preparations for weeks, intending to celebrate the event with a festival. Iolaus laughed, thinking about it. He'd always loved festivals! "Well, it should be memorable, Herc! Sounds like everyone from this valley, and the ones adjoining will be there next Thursday. They've got music all arranged, some new minstrel from Argos is coming. There's to be a bard contest, you know, the kind of competition to decide who tells the best story, and they're all supposed to recount episodes from our youthful exploits. The women have already started the baking and cooking. It should be a blast!"

Herc nodded as he plucked a long blade of grass and chewed on it. "I'm looking forward to it!" he said, his eyes dancing.

"I'm glad you plan to come. Wouldn't be the same without you," Iolaus replied, smiling.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Herc assured him, closing his eyes, enjoying the sun's warmth. "Not for the world."

* * *

And what a party it was! Streamers flew in the light breeze, all the colours of the rainbow, giving the village a jubilant air. Wandering minstrels supplimented the main act in the village square. The rich scents of foods and spices tempted the palate of the hundreds who had come to celebrate Iolaus' birthday. There was dancing, and feasting, laughter and stories...lots of stories.

Iolaus danced a jig, to everyone's delight, including his own! He collapsed, laughing, beside his friend on the bench outside of 'Dite's Temple. "Whew!" he gasped, wiping the sweat from his brow, "I'm getting too old for this!"

Herc laughed with him, clapping him on the shoulder, "I can't imagine that you will ever be too old to dance, Iolaus!"

There were bright, happy moments all day long, but the brightest, the happiest, was when Iolaus' great granddaughter presented him with his new, first, great great grandson. When he took the precious little bundle into his arms, he couldn't help the tears. Such a beautiful child. Elliara would have loved him.

Bright blue eyes, the colour of the sky, looked up into his as he traced a light finger down the perfect, satin cheek, then let the tiny fingers curl around his own. "What's his name," he asked with a smile, looking up at the girl who was the image of her grandmother, Dawn.

"Iolaus," she said softly, smiling down at him. His own smile froze and wavered. For all his youthful boasting nigh onto seventy years before, that all his sons would be named Iolaus, not one of his line had ever borne his name. Until now. His bit his lip to stop the trembling, and nodded. "Thank you, child... thank you," he whispered past the lump in his throat.

"Happy Birthday, Iolaus," Herc murmured, draping a light arm around the bowed, narrow shoulders.

* * *

The next day, Iolaus enjoyed a luxurious sleep-in, not rising until dawn was hours past. He puttered about, making himself a cup of tea, and cutting a hunk each of bread and cheese. Then, balancing his feast, he headed out the cottage door, intending to enjoy his breakfast on the bench under the spreading, ancient oak.

But, when he opened the door, and looked out at the bright day, he stopped in surprise. Hercules was there, sitting on a horse drawn wagon, waiting for him.

"What's up, Herc?" he asked, "Looks like you're going on a trip."

"Maybe," Hercules grinned, as he dropped down to the ground, taking Iolaus' plate of bread and cheese, walking with him to the shaded bench. "Depends."

"Depends on what?" Iolaus asked, settling on the bench, taking a tentative sip of the hot tea.

"On whether my best buddy feels like doing a bit of roaming," Herc replied, sitting down beside him, stretching out his long legs.

Iolaus cocked an eyebrow at him as he took the bread and cheese. "Roaming?" he asked, taking a bite.

Herc shrugged, "Yeah, roaming. It occurred to me that we hadn't set out together anywhere for, what, almost sixty years. I thought it was time you got out and around, check out some of the places we used to visit...."

While he chewed, Iolaus studied his friend. Hercules was up to something. And, he figured he knew what it was. Herc had a direct line to the Fates, could visit them whenever he wanted, and Iolaus was sure this meant his time was near. Herc wanted them to spend whatever life he had left, together. Roaming Greece. Like the old days...sort of. Iolaus was touched. He couldn't think of anything he'd rather do, than spend his last days, his last hours, with the best friend he'd ever known.

Nodding, he swallowed. "When do we leave?" he asked, a grin lighting his weathered, lined face.

"As soon as you're ready," Herc replied smiling.

Iolaus stuffed the last of the bread and cheese into his mouth, as he stood and headed back toward the house. "Just let me get my pack!" he called over his shoulder, his heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time...a very long time. Him and Herc, together again. Hot damn!

Herc grinned at the sprightly gait as his partner jogged back to the cottage, and leaned back against the bench, his arms up along the back of it, content to wait.

It took a while to clear the town, and the valley beyond. There were the children to see, to tell them he'd be away a while. They were shocked that he planned to set out on what could only be a rigorous journey for a man of his great age, and each, in turn, told him he should be taking his ease at home.

He just laughed at them, saying this was the best thing for him...make his blood flow! Make him feel young again...as if he had ever stopped feeling young.

None said what was in their hearts. That he wouldn't be returning from this trip. But, they all knew it, and sorrowed, knowing this was the last time they'd see one another.

But, Iolaus wasn't interested in tears. He'd lived his life with laughter, and he intended to go out as he had lived.

His children, grandchildren, great grandchildren and even the last, great great grandchild, would be fine. They didn't need him anymore. This was his time now. His and Herc's. And he was glad to see the road unfold in front of them.

They traveled south first, along the coast, heading to Olympia, to visit the magnificent grounds, with the glorious temples and the now abandoned arena. The next games wouldn't be held for another two years. Standing there, in the sun, Iolaus remembered the gold he'd won so long ago, for archery and for the short sprint.

They continued heading south, until they reached a small village on the southern coast, where he'd won a glorious chariot race, a race he'd run to fund a home for orphans. He grinned at that thought, wondering what had happened to all those kids over the years. The Orphan's Home was still there, larger, well equipped, and the kids looked happy, well cared for.

Turning north, they traveled over the mountains of the central Peloponnese, enjoying the clear, endless views. At night, Iolaus would trap a rabbit or two, and then they'd curl around the fire, laughing at the memories of their many, and much varied, adventures over the years, recalling old friends, old times, the richness of the lives they had lived together.

They passed through the plains below Mycenae, and Iolaus marvelled again at that 'one day' Elliara had won with her love for him. That ridiculous cult credited him with the win. But, in his heart, he knew it had been Elliara who had saved Greece, because she had believed in him.

They skirted Argos, and headed north to Corinth, spending a day there, enjoying the market and their favourite tavern. They both laughed to see how little it had changed, save for being a little scruffier than it had been then...and it had been scruffy enough then.

They headed out along the road past the old Academy, but didn't go in to the compound. Content to sit and watch the gates, to listen to the high spirited shouts of the youths within, they were both lost in their own thoughts of the times they'd spent there, as youths themselves, and later as men, when Jason had taken it over. So many pranks. So many good times.

Further north still, across the isthmus, and after a day more on the road, they arrived in Thebes. They visited Alcmene's old home, the garden still a riot of colour and sweet scents, lingering a long moment at the flower-carved marker, remembering a woman blessed with grace...a woman who had known how to love with all her heart, fearlessly, joyously. This was the place they had both considered home when they were kids. The one place they had both felt safe and loved as children.

They visited the graves of Herc's family, Iolaus standing back, watching his friend as he knelt alone for a moment by the markers, faded now with age. So much pain, so much loss.

And, yet, Iolaus thought, life is about it all...love, joy, loss, grief, adventure, peaceful moments. Pain and bright happiness. It was a kind of balance, he supposed. One could not exist without the other, much as one would never choose the sorrow.

And, they visited Iolaus' old cottage up on the hill. Whoever lived there now was away, so they could visit the old graves in privacy, where Iolaus knelt in silence.

'So long ago,' Iolaus thought, 'but I remember you still, Anya, and our beautiful sons. I hope you and Elliara are the best of friends, now. Knowing the two of you, I have no doubt that you are laughing at me, and my reckless heart...I love you both, I always will.'

Herc steadied him as he rose from his knees, half lifted him up onto the wagon's seat, and they set off again, heading west now, into the hills.

Iolaus had been laughing, carrying on with one of his famous, endless, aimless monologues, Herc chuckling quietly beside him, as they headed along the road. The old man had thought they were headed to Delphi, though he had no need to visit the oracle to know his future. But, the laughter caught in his throat when Herc guided the horses off the main road, taking a smaller, less well traveled route higher into the hills.

"Herc," he finally managed, very quietly, "I'm not sure I want to go there."

Hercules cast a look down at the man by his side. "I know. You haven't been there in almost sixty years."

Iolaus looked away, having to swallow hard, surprised at the burning in his eyes. This place held the worst memory of his life...it was not one he ever wanted to revisit. "You know why..." he whispered.

Hercules nodded, looking back toward the road ahead. "It was our favourite place, Iolaus, where we were always happiest, ever since we'd been kids. I want to see it again."

"Then, go. I can wait for you here," Iolaus encouraged. He hated the place. Couldn't stand the thought of seeing the site where Herc had died. He knew he was trembling a bit, even at the thought of it. Sure, Herc was a god, and sure he'd stayed part of his life. But, what they'd had, the lives they had lived, had always hoped to live, had ended there in ugly and terrible agony.

"I want to see it with you. I want to fish again in that pool, and sleep under those firs, and take back what was ours...all the moments of joy. All the good memories. Iolaus, I know it's hard, but, please...."

Iolaus was about to refuse. But, then he paused, trying to remember the last time Hercules had ever asked anything of him, beyond that he be careful with his own life...and realized that Herc had never asked a thing of him, not since that terrible night, when Herc had begged for help to end that terrible agony. Not a single thing.

Looking down at the hands he'd clasped to still their shaking, he finally nodded. "Alright, Hercules, if it's what you really want," he said, trying to keep his voice strong. Resolutely, he lifted his head, to watch the road unfold ahead of them. It was just a place. It had been a good place, once. Maybe this visit could make it so, again.

Maybe...but, he doubted it.

They stopped for lunch at the old tavern, raising a few curious looks from the regulars. They wondered about the gaunt old man, face grayer than his hair, and the large, muscular, much younger man with him. But, the strangers just picked up a couple of bowls of stew, and mugs of ale, from the bar and moved to a quiet corner table, minding their own business.

Iolaus wasn't very hungry, and he knew Herc didn't need to eat, but he figured this was some kind of ritual Herc wanted to play out. They'd always stopped here before heading up the last climb to the pool. It was an old tradition. He toyed with his food, trying to shrug off his extreme reluctance to go further. He did not want to do this.

But, Herc had asked. So, he would go.

When they rode past the old cottage at the end of the village, Iolaus averted his eyes. He didn't want to see it. He didn't want to remember.

But, the old woman's voice echoed in his mind. 'I've a couple of good warm cloaks...ye may be needin' them,' she'd said. And, they'd gladly accepted the loan of them. He wondered what she'd thought when they had never come back.

They had to leave the wagon by the road, when they came to the old, long overgrown path they'd have to climb the rest of the way. Hercules tied the horses, one after the other, on a long lead, so that he could lead them up the steep hillside, while still leaving a hand free to support his friend.

Iolaus began the grim climb. As it wore on, he thought he didn't remember it being so long...or so steep. He didn't know if it was the steepness, the weight of his years, or the burden of memories he carried, but he found it hard going, and they had to stop several times to let him catch his breath, before they reached the top and came out on the small, high plateau, the turquoise pool shimmering in the late afternoon light.

Iolaus stood, rubbing his left arm, while Herc hobbled the horses, and set up the camp. He stared at the place where the earth had been blackened sixty years ago, and was pitifully relieved to see there was no evidence of what had been done here. He didn't bother looking for any trace of where he'd left Medea lying, knowing her bones would have been carried away by scavengers long ago. But, he couldn't seem to move. Couldn't seem to make his legs carry him further toward the place where Herc built the fire.

Finally, Hercules looked up and gazed at him, knowing how hard this was for his friend. He sighed, and rose to his feet, moving to stand before Iolaus, to place a supportive, comforting hand on his shoulder. "We had to come here, Iolaus...it's the right place. The right time," he said quietly, his eyes not quite meeting Iolaus'.

The old man studied the god's face...a face which had never grown old. And understood.

He looked around again, with new eyes, a new realization. This was the end of their journey together.

Iolaus knew he would die here.

And, suddenly, it was all right. More than all right. This was where his life should end, in the place where Hercules had died so very long ago.

It was the right place...and the right time. Long years ago, gods could it be more than ninety, he and Herc had begun their first adventure together here, as boys. It was fitting that their last adventure together should end here as well.

He nodded, and patted Herc's arm. "You're right, Hercules," he said quietly, then grinned, his eyes bright with teasing. "Damn it, Herc...all these years, and you're still always right!" Chuckling, he shook his head and moved past his friend, toward the pool. Herc fell in beside him, an arm around his frail shoulders.

They fished for their supper, and speared their dinner over the fire. Hercules shook out the blankets he'd brought in a pack, and draped one over Iolaus' shoulders. It was late summer, and the air was beginning to chill.

Iolaus shivered for a moment in memory, but then thrust it aside. Tonight wasn't a night for shadows. It was a night for thanksgiving and laughter. Relaxing, he felt the subtle magic of the place seep into his bones, bringing a peace he never thought he'd ever find here again. They laughed about their boyhood antics, shaking their heads at the thought of what Alcmene would have done if she'd known about all the mischief they'd gotten themselves into. Darkness fell, and with it, a companionable silence, as they each roamed their memories.

They slept well, and Iolaus woke the next morning feeling lighthearted. Herc had gone to gather some apples and pears for their breakfast before his old friend had awakened, and they enjoyed their light repast, washing it down with the crystal clear waters of the pool.

They spent the morning fishing, growing ever more hilarious as they vied for the biggest catch of the day. Like the boys they'd been, they taunted and teased one another, giggling at a fish that was particularly pitiful, taking mercy on it, and throwing it back into the water to grow up a bit.

It was reaching toward noon, when Iolaus' pole bowed and almost pulled from his hand, with the strength of the fish which had taken his bait and was now trying to plunge deep and away to freedom. Both knarled hands gripped the pole tightly, as Iolaus shouted gleefully, "I've got him, Herc! The granddaddy of them all!"

Resisting the urge to say it was only appropriate, figuring Iolaus wouldn't particularly appreciate a reference to his age at this moment, Hercules dropped his own pole and moved to help Iolaus to his feet, so that he could balance better, and use his weight, in what would be the last battle of his mortal life.

But, neither of them were thinking of that. They were caught in the pleasure of the moment, as Iolaus used his skill and strength to play out the fish, and gradually draw him back in. It was a mighty battle, and when he was finally successful, wresting his opponent from the pool, he whooped, in spirited excitement. The monster had to be forty pounds, if it was an ounce.

Holding it up triumphantly, Iolaus turned to Hercules, his face alight with joy, his eyes blazing with his triumph. "Gotcha, Herc! This has gotta be the biggest damn fish in that pool!" he crowed.

Shaking his head, laughing with his friend, enjoying his delight, Herc replied, "I concede, as I always have to the greatest hunter and fisherman Greece will ever know!"

"And so you should!" replied Iolaus, grinning, about to turn back to their camp, when the grin became a grimace of pain. Gasping, he doubled over, dropping the fish, his right hand pushing against his chest, over his heart, his left arm hanging numb and useless by his side.

Hercules was beside him in less than a heartbeat, his own heart clenching at Iolaus' moan of pain. He caught his friend before he could fall, and eased him to the ground, cradling the ancient, brittle body of his best friend in his arms against his chest, trembling as he realized what was happening.

He was again holding Iolaus in his arms, again going to watch him die.

Dimly, his eyes and teeth clenched against the tearing agony, panting for breath, Iolaus felt Herc's arms around him, but the more insistent reality was the great weight pressing down on his chest.

Not now...gods, not yet.

Gradually, the pain subsided, and he slumped against Herc's arms. Tentatively, he opened his eyes, dizzy for a moment, then found Herc's, glistening in the reflected light from the lake. "Hey," he whispered, unable to say more.

"Shhh," Hercules replied, gathering Iolaus into his arms and taking him back to the campsite, where he laid his friend upon a blanket, wrapped it around him, then pulled him back into those strong arms. Reaching for the waterskin, Hercules lifted it to his buddy's lips, holding it while he drank a few drops, to moisten his dry lips and throat.

Herc held Iolaus close, wishing there was something more he could do to ease the pain, but he didn't think there was time to brew a herbal tea, and he was loathe to let go of his buddy. Iolaus fought to steady his ragged breathing, and gradually, it slowed to a normal rate.

"Herc?" he murmured.

"I'm here, buddy," Hercules replied. "I'll always be here...."

"I know," Iolaus whispered, "Just as you always have been...." He cleared his throat, searching up into Hercules' eyes, seeing the love there. "I...I wish Medea hadn't...."

"It's okay, Iolaus," Herc hastened to reassure him, drawing him closer.

"I'm sorry, Herc...wish it could have been different. But...I can't wish away Elliara and the kids...." he paused, feeling somehow this admission was a betrayal of his friendship.

Hercules smiled down at him, seeing the confusion, shaking his head. "Of course, you can't. I wouldn't want you to...your happiness with her, and your family, meant everything to me. Rest, Iolaus...just rest now...."

But, Iolaus wasn't ready yet, he still had things to say, and knew his time was running out. Cutting Herc off, he cleared his throat, to speak as clearly as possible, "Can't...rest, yet, Herc. Soon. Just listen...okay? I want, I want to tell you, happy as I was with the family, I missed you. Missed us. Much as I love them all, no one ever meant more to me than yo..." his voice caught in a cough, and Herc lifted him a little higher in his arms, to ease his breathing. Getting his breath once more, Iolaus continued in a whisper, "I remember thinking...that if I could only stop time...I'd have stopped it back then...so that we could have... gone on...forever..."

His voice died to a sigh, and his eyes drifted closed.

Hercules bit his lip, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "I know, buddy...I've always known...." he murmured.

Iolaus' body convulsed again as another blast of agony ripped through his chest. Hercules held him tightly, blinking away his tears, holding him securely against his chest, as Iolaus' body relaxed and he slipped further away. His breathing was laboured, and increasingly uncertain, catching for long moments, until it seemed he'd never breathe again.

Hercules raised his face to the sky. "It's time!" he called, his voice ragged and desperate.

Zeus appeared by their side, and gazed down upon his son, and the old man he held in his arms. "Yes, I see that it is."

"Do it!" Hercules said urgently, knowing there were only moments left before Thanatos came.

Zeus nodded, as he knelt beside his son, gazing fondly at the dying elderly man. Then, he laid a hand on Iolaus' head, fulfilling the bargain he'd made with his son, and the promise he'd made to a bride groom long years before.

"You will live long, Iolaus, I promise you...longer than you can, perhaps, imagine."

A warm, golden glow surrounded the elderly hunter, the light burning away the age, the lines the years had traced, the gray that had captured the once blond curls...now blond once again. The glow faded, leaving a younger man in Hercules' arms, a man in his prime, dressed once again in the vest and leather pants, the gauntlets and boots, which had been his uniform in those bygone days.

Zeus stood. "You kept your part of our deal, Hercules, and I know there were times when it was not easy. Now, I have kept mine." Zeus smiled, and faded away.

* * *

"Iolaus?"

"Hmmm?" the hunter mumbled, reaching back toward consciousness.

"C'mon, Iolaus, wake up!" Hercules encouraged, giving the hunter a gentle shake.

"Alright, alright, I'm awake," Iolaus grumbled, blinking his eyes, wondering at first what he was doing in Herc's arms...and then remembering. His eyes found Herc's and he gave his friend a lopsided grin, "I'm still here?"

"Uh huh," Hercules affirmed, unable to contain his own grin of delight.

Iolaus thought the grin a little exuberant, given the fact that he was dying. He hadn't expected Herc to be so glad to be finally rid of him. Frowning a little, he took stock of his various aches and pains...his eyes widening when he realized he didn't have any. He felt...great? Yeah. Great!

Hercules was watching the awareness grow in Iolaus' eyes with a barely restrained feeling of jubilation, unable to restrain a low chuckle of delight.

Iolaus' eyes flashed back to his friend's dancing gaze. What the...? He felt fine, so he might as well sit up on his own. Expecting to have to struggle up from Herc's arms, awkward with age, he found himself sitting forward in one smooth motion, and he looked at his body with amazement...and then with stupefaction.

His mouth dropped open, and his wide blue eyes came back up to stare at Hercules. For a wild moment, he thought perhaps he was dreaming, and he slapped his body with his hands, reached up and touched his face, rubbing his hand across his mouth and then back through his hair.

"I'm not dead?" he stammered, looking around, relieved to see the pool and not the Elysium Fields.

"Nope," replied Hercules, shaking his head, grinning.

An answering grin started to break across Iolaus' face. "I'm young again?"

"So it seems," Hercules replied, enjoying this.

"For how long?" asked Iolaus, a slight trace of fear that it couldn't be real, couldn't last.

Hercules shrugged. "For as long as you want, I guess," he replied.

Iolaus shook his head in stunned amazement. "I'm immortal?" he breathed.

"Maybe...but even gods can die," Hercules temporized.

"Gods...I'M A GOD?" Iolaus squeaked. This was unbelievable! He had to be dreaming.

Hercules shrugged, "More an immortal mortal...but, I guess, technically, you have been worshiped as a god for thirty years now," Getting to his feet, Herc reached a hand down to help Iolaus to his.

"Can I throw bolts of energy?" Iolaus asked, a faint gleam of anticipation in his eyes.

"Ah...no," Herc said regretfully, shaking his head.

Iolaus frowned, wondering why not. Deciding he really wanted to know, he asked, "Why not?"

"Sorry, Iolaus...you weren't born a god, or with divine blood, so all you get is immortality," Hercules explained, genuinely sorry to disappoint his friend.

"Oh...well, yeah, I can understand that," Iolaus replied, pondering this. "So, do I have divine strength?" he asked, still hopeful.

Herc just grimaced, and shook his head. "'Fraid not," he said.

"Fly?" Iolaus continued, brows raised, hands on his hips.

"Nope, no flying," Herc looked away, having a hard time to keep himself from laughing out loud. He knew Iolaus was playing him along, buying the time he needed to get used to what had happened to him...the wonder of it.

Throwing his hands into the air, Iolaus exclaimed with feigned exasperation, "Then, what can I do?"

Behaving as if he was pondering this deeply, Hercules replied slowly, "Well, you can disappear and reappear where you want, live on Olympus and hang around with me for eternity, if you want to...."

If you want to....

Gods, it was all he had ever really wanted. The first and last wish of his life was to spend forever beside Hercules, guarding his back....

Overwhelmed by the reality of his dreams made real, Iolaus brought his fist to his lips, and turned quickly away, blinking the tears from his eyes. Concerned, Hercules moved to stand beside him, a hand on his shoulder.

"Iolaus? Are you alright? I thought...I thought you'd be happy about this." The god was suddenly unsure. Maybe he'd been wrong about his buddy's wishes. Maybe he'd made a bargain Iolaus didn't want to live with.

"Happy?" Iolaus responded, his voice cracking. He swallowed and took a deep breath. Turning, he looked up at Hercules, the love and gratitude blazing from his eyes, as he moved to wrap the bigger man in a tight embrace. Herc's arms came up and around him, hugging him back. "I never wanted anything else, Herc...I've been given wonderful gifts of love and family, but I never wanted anything but this."

Herc's own eyes burned then, and he had to blink against the stinging in his eyes. He let out a long sigh, relieved beyond words, his heart aching with its fullness.

Iolaus sniffed and pushed back, fingers wiping the moisture from his eyes and cheeks. Sniffing again, he asked, "How? How could this be possible?"

Herc looked down at the ground, his hands on his hips, then looked back up at Iolaus, "Well, you remember the bargain I made?"

"Yeah, how could I forget?" Iolaus responded, with a puzzled frown.

"Well, I bargained good behaviour for a long life for you, providing you died a natural death...a very long life, as it turns out," Hercules said, smiling softly.

And, finally, it all made sense. Why Hercules had so diligently refused to break his bargain, even when Iolaus was already an old man, when he'd already lived far longer than he'd ever dreamed. Why Herc had been so upset at his decision to fight that day, on the Plains below Mycenae. Gods, he'd been risking eternity...and Herc hadn't been free to tell him. He could only stand beside him, and guard his back, hoping Iolaus would survive. If he'd thrown his life away, if he'd died in battle rather than from natural causes, Hercules would have lost his gamble for eternity.

"Gods, Herc," Iolaus whispered. "How can I ever thank you for this?"

Herc just shook his head. "Iolaus, you don't ever need to thank me. Your life is my gift to myself, as much or more than it is a gift to you. I missed you buddy. Every damned day. I couldn't face the thought of eternity without you by my side. It would have been...empty," he said quietly, but fervently. "You're my partner, Iolaus, my best friend, the best part of me. I've told you before, I'm lost without you."

Iolaus just gazed up at him in wonder for a long moment, until a broad smile broke slowly across his face, lighting Hercules' world. Looking around at the forested glade, drinking in its bright beauty, he shook his head, then threw his hands into the air in a gesture of wild abandon, as he spun in a little dance of glory. Laughing, he dropped his arms and turned to face his friend.

"So, Herc, buddy of mine, what do we do now?" he teased.

"Now?" Herc looked up and around at the world, shrugged, and then looked back down at Iolaus, "Now, we go after the monsters, and the warlords, and the rest of the generally disreputable types that have been getting away with murder for too long. Ready to kick some butt?" Herc waited with one brow raised, a grin lighting his face.

"Bet on it, buddy," Iolaus assured him, unable to restrain a giggle of anticipation, sweeping out an arm as he turned with a bright grin. "Just lead the way!"

Laughing, the two buddies turned to clear their camp, to begin a new endless life of adventure together. Leaving the place where their mortal beings had both died, and where they had both attained immortality. They set out, Herc's arm draped over Iolaus' shoulder, searching for wrongs to right, the vulnerable to protect, evil to defeat...and to have the time of their lives...for all the time to come.

Forever.

Finis

Disclaimer: While I have made rather free of the myth concerning Hercules' demise, the essential details, of the cursed cloak, the terrible pain, his death on the pyre built by Iolaus and his transformation into a god by Zeus, are true to the original legend. The legends also tell of how Medea chose a similar means of cursing the clothing of her children and of Jason's bride on the day he was to be married. The rest is conjecture, to fill in the blanks of Iolaus' life after Herc's death and transformation, to explain how Iolaus came to have a family, how at the age of seventy he won 'one day' of youth to defeat Ares' forces, lived to the ripe old age of one hundred and came to be worshipped as a god in his own right. And, of course, to explain how these two lifelong friends, brothers of the heart, and soulmates, would come to share eternity, forever protecting the vulnerable, forever battling the forces of evil and chaos.