This story follows the events from the series' episode 'Siege at Naxos'

The mud was wet, sticky and cold. At least, he figured it was mud. Sure felt like mud, gritty and mucky against his skin, oozing under him when he moved. Smelled like it, too. The rich, heavy scent of raw earth surrounded him, unmingled with any leavening fragrances of wood-smoke, sweet blossoms, water, flowers, pungent herbs or evergreen. But it was too dark to see. Completely pitch black with not so much as the feeble light of a single star penetrating the stygian gloom. Iolaus gasped at the shock of it, numb for a moment, startled past thinking by the instantaneous change from where he'd been, sprawled on the warm grass by the campfire, talking with Hercules, to lying in cold muddy darkness. The words that had been on his lips died in his throat as he forgot what he'd been in the process of saying. Instead, he swallowed hard, and called out, "Herc!"

There was no answer, not so much as an echo, the cadences of his voice lost in the gloom.

Rolling onto his hands and knees, he reached out cautiously, testing the space around him, patting the cloying freezing muck, finding his pack and his sword with a certain measure of relief. Drawing the pack towards him, he knelt in the icy mud and damp, chilly air, rummaging in it to find his flint and bits of kindling and rags he always carried for emergency situations. Hastily, he struck a spark to drive back the darkness and get a better sense of his environment. The flames caught and a tentative, tiny flame flickered into life. Hastily wrapping the rags around his sword, Iolaus created an improvised torch, then stood to examine his surroundings.

The dark stretched out beyond the light's reach both above and around him, only an endless expanse of dark, viscous mud in view. There was no wind, not even a hint of a breeze, the air around him completely still. He shivered in the chill, and from trepidation. There were no signposts of any kind…no sky, sun or stars to give him sense of bearings, no forest…nothing. No sound. As if he was in a vast, empty wasteland.

What in Tartarus had happened? And, more to the point, where was he?

The rags burned quickly, the flames straight with no current of air disturbing them…then they flickered and went out.

* * *

Earlier that day…

They'd found a boat to take them, and their prisoner Goth, across the short stretch of water to the mainland, where he could be safely left to the tender care of the magistrate in Corinth…and a life sentence in prison for his cruel, sadistic depredations on the people of Greece. It was with a sense of 'good riddance' that they left him behind, glad to have brought him to justice, very glad to see the last of him. His malicious, cold taunting, his sick observations on the world at large and promises of revenge had been poor company on the journey. It had been late by then, the sun having set an hour before, so they'd headed to the castle, to spend the night with their old friend.

Over breakfast, King Jason had urged them to stay for a few days, missing their company, but they both wanted only to find space and quiet, away from the busy precincts of the palace. So, weary in spirit more than body, the two heroes headed out of town, needing the peace of the countryside, the clean air and open rolling hills, the uncomplicated and straightforward life in the depths of the virgin forests. They'd had enough of danger and betrayal, enough of wanton cruelty and pointless death for a while. They wanted respite, a chance to just 'be', to live without the threat of bandits or warlords or monsters looming over them, to be away from crowds and noise…away from anyone who might make demands upon them.

Hercules, in particular, felt badly distracted, out of sorts, needing time to regain his balance, his sense of proportion. He needed to let go of the sickening memory that haunted his thoughts and dreams of Iolaus tied in front of the gigantic catapult, moments away from being torn apart, a breath away from grisly death. Shuddering as the unwanted vision rose to torment him again, he swallowed hard, biting his lip, choking off his desire to turn on his friend, to yell at him for his irresponsible, irrepressible recklessness.

He was angry with Iolaus, angrier than he'd been in a long time, for the foolish risks his partner took, for the cavalier and careless manner in which Iolaus all too often gambled his own life against impossible odds. But, they'd had that conversation before, too many times, with no effective result. Iolaus wouldn't listen, couldn't seem to understand what his life meant to Hercules…what his death would mean on the terrible day when Thanatos came for him. It would be bad enough, if it was unavoidable in battle, or of illness or old age, but to lose him because of thoughtless stupidity wasn't something the demigod could ever begin to accept. Hercules had no doubt that the loss of his friend would be more than he could bear and he shuddered again, as his fingers curled into fists, his shoulders tight with the control he was exerting on himself.

Maybe they should have stayed in Corinth, maybe the distraction of other people would have helped, and the presence of Jason might have tempered his fury. But, he couldn't stand the thought of trying to carry on empty conversations when his mind was in such turmoil. Sighing, he looked up into the sky, watching the flight of a hunting hawk as it circled seeking prey. He'd try again, tonight, when it was quiet and there were no other distractions. He'd try again to get Iolaus to see that such perilous courage, such selfless acts of heroism were foolhardy and, worse, unnecessary.

Maybe this time he'd have more luck. Maybe this time, Iolaus would hear the fear under the words, would respond to it and promise to be more careful for Hercules' sake, if not his own.

Maybe.

Ambling along beside him, Iolaus could feel the tension emanating from his friend, could feel the anger, but wasn't sure what it was about. They'd won, beaten off the barbarians, saved the innocents, and brought Goth to justice. What was there to be angry about? He tried chatting about inconsequential things, but it was like talking to an angry bull, getting only the occasional snort in return. He whistled, but the tension flowing from Hercules was repressive, and he finally subsided into silence. Shrugging, he sighed and bided his time. Whatever was eating at his friend would eventually come out. Hercules could only steam in silence for so long before he finally revealed what it was that was bothering him so profoundly. Typically, he chose quiet times, when there were no other distractions…so, Iolaus would have laid money on the probability that Herc would let him know what was wrong that night by their fire. Letting his concern slip away, he contented himself with the pleasure of being out in the countryside, with the bright clear warmth of the day, smiling quietly with the sheer joy of being alive.

As the afternoon waned, Iolaus suggested they stop by a slow moving river and try their luck at catching their dinner. With a shrug, Hercules complied and set about establishing their camp while Iolaus headed to the bank, dropping in a line and settling his back against a handy rock. Within an hour, they were finishing their simple meal, the fire burning brightly as dusk fell over the forest around them.

Tired of the silence, deciding finally that the time had come to find out what was on his friend's mind, Iolaus licked the last of his meal from his fingers and cleared his throat. "So, did you plan to eventually tell me what's bothering you, or is it to remain one of life's little mysteries?" he asked, trying to hold a note of humour in his voice, though his eyes were clouded with concern. Hercules didn't get angry often, and he was seldom so morose for so long, so whatever it was, it had to be something serious.

Hercules looked up across the flames, and sighed at the look of confused innocence on Iolaus' face. His buddy clearly had no idea of why he was angry. "You really don't know, do you?" he reflected, a slight note of weary amazement in his voice.

Iolaus shrugged and shook his head. Holding his hands wide, he replied, "If I knew, I wouldn't have to ask. I don't get it…everything turned out fine so what's eating at you?"

Swallowing, Hercules tried to keep his voice even, tried not to let his emotion get the better of him, but it left him sounding strained, his voice a little raspy. "You just had to take on the whole horde by yourself, just had to go off with no warning to prove how daring you are, how 'sneaky'…."

"What are you talking about?" Iolaus asked with a slight frown, honestly mystified, having forgotten his boast on the ramparts about how much sneakier he was than Hercules.

"The catapult," Hercules snapped, his eyes smoldering. "What did they call it? Oh, yeah, Titantus."

"Oh…that," Iolaus responded flatly, biting his lip. In retrospect, he had to agree that it had been a pretty dumb move.

"Yes, 'that'. You left us without a look-out, and they almost overwhelmed us because I didn't know we'd been left wide open, defenceless," Hercules accused, the anger echoing in his voice. When the barbarians had stormed into the ruined fort, he'd been sick, wondering what had happened to Iolaus, believing that since the barbarians had gotten past his best friend, they had quite likely killed him. But, there'd been no time to react then, no time to drop everything and search for him, or his body. He'd had to battle the barbarians and fight them off, restoring the fragile security they had within the walls of the decaying and abandoned fortress. It was only later that he found Iolaus was missing…and he'd never forget looking across the battlements to see his friend bound before the massive pendulum of the catapult. Shuddering again, he pushed trembling fingers through his hair. Gods, would he ever forget what he'd felt in those cold endless moments?

Taking a deep breath, Iolaus nodded, acknowledging the fault of how vulnerable he'd left them to assault, and that Herc had a right to be angry. They needed to be able to trust each other. His thoughtlessness could have gotten them all killed. "I know…I'm sorry. I should have let you know I was going. But…I knew you'd try to stop me."

"No kidding," Hercules rejoined, his temper causing his voice to rise in pitch and volume. "It was stupid to try to take them all on alone."

"I know," Iolaus allowed with a placating tone, raising his hands to calm his friend and forestall other pithy observations of his idiocy, "I know, but I had to try. That catapult had the capacity to bring down the fort. I knew you'd probably go if I didn't…"

"And, that would have been a problem because…?" Hercules asked, trying to be fair, wanting to understand his friend's reasoning.

"Well, because the others needed your help to escape. The old man was weak and might have needed to be carried. They couldn't afford to lose you if something went wrong," Iolaus tried to explain. It had all made so much sense at the time.

Nodding, his face devoid of the emotion he fought so hard to control, the demigod clarified further, "So, you decided you were more expendable than I was…you went out there knowing you could be killed."

"I…well, I didn't plan on getting caught," his friend replied with a diffident shrug, knowing it sounded lame.

Hercules nodded once, looking away. He ground his teeth, and his fists tightened as he fought his desire to try to shake sense into his best friend. "Don't do that," he grated, scowling.

"Don't…?" Iolaus repeated, not understanding, puzzlement clear in his eyes.

"Don't deliberately put yourself in harm's way to protect me. Don't go off to thoughtlessly risk your life because you consider yourself expendable. It drives me crazy, you know that," Hercules spelled it out, irritated that the clarification was necessary.

"Yeah, well, sometimes there isn't a lot of choice," Iolaus replied with a slight grin, relaxing. It would be okay. Herc was just in his 'mother hen' mode, worried about his well being. The hunter was used to these concerns, used to Hercules worrying about his mortal vulnerability.

"Sometimes? Maybe. But this wasn't one of those times," Hercules snapped, coming right back at him. His voice was angry, but there was a plaintive note underlying the aggressiveness as he continued, "Gods, Iolaus, do you know what that catapult could have done to you? You'd have been torn apart in a heartbeat! All you accomplished was to first leave us defenceless, with no warning of attack…we could have all been killed! And, then we almost had to trade Goth to get you back…and, once they had him back, they would have killed all of us anyway. It was stupid, and useless," Hercules raged, unable to contain his fear-spawned anger.

"What can I say?" Iolaus responded, trying not to react angrily, but he wasn't happy about having his actions classified as both stupid and useless…even if they had been. "It seemed like a good idea at the time, and besides, I did bring Goff back with me."

Hercules glared across the fire at his friend, remembering Iolaus' achievement in beating Goth, even when the warlord had been thrown a deadly ax while Iolaus had remained unarmed, and in dragging the outlaw back to the fortress, restoring the status quo…but that hadn't been the point of their discussion. Bringing it up had been Iolaus' way of saying, 'no harm done, really,' as if that was all that mattered. He just didn't get it…or wouldn't accept that he took risks beyond the bounds of reason.

"That's not the point! Would it kill you to stop and think before you act…just once in a while? Gods, Iolaus, sometimes I think the only reason I was born was to bail you out of the messes you get yourself into…to save your skin, time and time again," the demigod raged, his eyes flashing, his voice rough, knowing he was exaggerating, but subtlety didn't seem to work with his best friend.

Now, that hurt. Iolaus tended to be a tad sensitive about the number of times Hercules had had to rescue him from one scrape or another, but the truth of it was that he bailed Hercules out of trouble just about as often. Sure, sometimes he was impetuous or thoughtless, but there was no need to condemn his whole life for a few ill-considered actions. It wasn't as if he was some kind of burden that Hercules had to lug around. He knew Hercules worried about him but enough already…this conversation was going nowhere and it was time to fight back a little.

Tired of feeling defensive, his own temper rising, Iolaus snapped back, "So, what are you saying? That I'm more trouble than I'm worth? That you wish I'd never have been born? Would you like that, Hercules? Would that make your life less complicated?"

Swallowing hard, trying to damp down his anger before it got out of hand, Hercules shook his head, turning to lie down, facing away from the fire, his back to his friend. "There are times…" he muttered, "there are times…."

"And, this is one of them, is that it?" Iolaus pressed, unwilling now to let the argument go. Being worried wasn't an excuse for the insults and Herc could damned well apologize.

If anything, Iolaus' comments irritated Hercules even more…what a typically over the top, stupid, ridiculous notion. 'Never been born'…yeah, right. The demigod ground his teeth to keep from snapping back.

"Well, is it?" Iolaus prodded into the silence, righteously waiting for his partner to back down.

But, Hercules wasn't ready to let it go, either. Knowing Iolaus would just keep badgering him until he responded, he snarled into the darkness, "Yeah, if you want to know so bad, this is one of those times! If you keep up with your crazy behaviour you'll be dead soon anyway so what difference would it have made if you'd never been born?"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Hercules regretted them. They weren't fair and he knew it… Iolaus had done enormous good in his life, had had incredible impact on many, many lives, not least of all his own. Even if he died today, this moment, Iolaus' life would have been worth living…but that was the whole point, wasn't it? That Hercules was afraid he would die, and couldn't face that. He had to get Iolaus to agree to be more careful. So, he just swallowed hard, still angry that Iolaus remained unrepentant and essentially oblivious to his terrifying lack of any sense of self-preservation. Gods, Iolaus had even worked the argument around so that now it was Hercules who should be apologizing, dammit…and the demigod knew he would apologize, but just not immediately. Not until Iolaus signaled that he'd heard and understood… and, please gods, would be more careful.

Sobered into silence by that irritated admission, Iolaus bit back his own anger. He'd expected Herc to immediately deny ever wishing he'd never been born…that's why he'd gone in with the outrageous statement in the first place, to put a little perspective into the argument. Instead, he'd underestimated Herc's anger and had pushed too hard, getting a confirmation they both knew wasn't true.

Thinking about it from Herc's perspective, he had to admit that he did occasionally get himself into risky situations because he'd failed to consider the consequences. He knew he counted on Herc to get him out of trouble, usually unconsciously, but that still meant he often took Hercules for granted. And, though Herc's comments had hurt, to be completely fair, he knew Hercules was only upset because he'd been so badly scared…his buddy had never made any secret of his fears that Iolaus would one day get himself killed, or of how those fears sickened him. He hadn't realized how badly he'd scared Hercules, the impact that seeing him framed in that catapult's path must have had on his friend. Swallowing, he knew how he'd have felt if their positions had been reversed.

Iolaus decided his friend had every right to be irritated. "Right," he mumbled finally in sympathetic agreement as he, too, lay down on the sweet-smelling, still warm grass, and curled an arm under his head.

Philosophically, he sighed to himself as he gazed into the fire…and past it at his partner's rigid back. Herc didn't really mean that he wished Iolaus hadn't been born, or even that he truly resented the trouble his buddy got into. For all the doubts and anxieties of his life, for all the hidden insecurities that haunted him, Iolaus was confident of one thing…Hercules was his best friend and cared about him deeply. Herc wouldn't ever really wish he'd never been born…he just wished that Iolaus wouldn't be so careless with his life. He was mad because he cared. "I'm sorry…" Iolaus murmured to his friend's back, meaning it. Hercules carried enough on his shoulders and in his heart…he didn't need to also bear the constant fear that his partner and best friend would stupidly throw away his life.

Hercules heard the sincerity, knew Iolaus meant it, and regretted his own angry words. Sighing, he was saying, "I'm sorry, too, but you scare me when…" as he rolled over to face his friend. The words died as he gazed at the empty spot where Iolaus had been. Frowning, he lifted his head, looking around the campsite, but he was alone. "Iolaus?" he called softly, wondering how his buddy had managed to disappear so quickly when his voice had sounded so close.

When there was no answer, Hercules sat up, his eyes again raking the campsite, noticing this time that Iolaus' pack and sword were also gone. Rolling to his feet, he moved around the fire, seeking tracks. Maybe he'd hurt his friend so badly by his angry and ill-considered remarks that Iolaus had taken off. He'd been known to do that when his feelings were badly hurt, when he thought he was in the way. But, there were no tracks, no sign of any kind. Mystified, Hercules dropped to one knee on Iolaus' side of the fire, studying the ground closely. It was impossible, but it was as if the area had been swept clean of any sign…as if Iolaus hadn't been there at all. The grass was buoyant and bore no shadow of the man who had lain so recently upon it. Shaking his head, frowning, Hercules bit his lip, trying to figure out what had happened. It didn't make any sense. Iolaus was good but not that good. He couldn't have erased all signs of his presence so quickly, so silently. Where…?

Standing, he called out again, loudly, "IOLAUS!"

But, there was only the silence of the night around him. Hercules shivered, as if he'd just been touched by a cold hand, and his breath caught in his chest as he looked wildly around the campsite, taking in the remains of one fish, not two…as if he'd eaten alone. As if Iolaus hadn't ever been there. He snatched up a burning brand from the fire, using it to light the ground over the areas where he knew Iolaus had walked…the path from the trail into the clearing…the distance between their camp and the river where he'd caught their dinner. But, he could only find his own tracks, none of the hunter's.

What in the name of Hades was going on here? For a moment, he felt dislocated, with a dull ache behind his eyes, as if he'd been dreaming about his friend while, in truth, he'd been alone all along. Irritated, he shook off the feeling, ignored it.

Straightening, Hercules stared back at the campfire, playing over the last few moments when he knew Iolaus had been there. It was then that he remembered their conversation, what they'd said.

Dread filled his heart, catching at his throat, stopping his breath. "Oh gods," he whispered, his eyes widening with horrified understanding. "Oh gods…no…."

* * *

"Hercules!" Iolaus called out again, instinctively, frightened by an atavistic reaction to finding himself so suddenly in the dark. But, there was still no response. It was as if he'd suddenly been struck blind, the utterly impenetrable black void seemed infinite, the cold of it settling in his bones.

He wasn't blind, he knew that…he'd just struck a fire, seen the mud. Where was he? How had he gotten here? Taking a deep breath, trying to calm the hammering of his heart, he thought back to the campfire… he'd been talking with Hercules…arguing, but the fight had ended. And, then, with no warning, he'd found himself here…wherever 'here' was. What in Tartarus had happened? There'd been nothing…no storm, no threat of any kind, nothing but the quiet sounds of the forest and the crackling fire…and their angry words, flung at one another like sharp stones, until he'd apologized. Remembering the conversation, their last words, he frowned…and then, with a sick feeling of horror, he understood.

"Oh gods," he whispered, feeling the flutter of panic rise in his chest. "Somebody tell me this isn't happening."

Not that the gods would be any help…if what he feared was true, one of them had to be responsible.

Nor did it help when he realized it was all his own fault. He'd been the one to raise the stupid suggestion that Hercules might wish he'd never have been born…the one to push Herc into confirming that wish.

He stood with his head down, listening desperately for any sound at all, anything that would tell him he wasn't alone here in this eternal darkness, the tip of his sword sinking into the cold mud at his feet. Frantic, fighting the panic that threatened to overwhelm him, the claustrophobia he always felt when locked away in dark places, he tried to think about what he should do now. Stay here and wait for Herc to come and get him? Because, he knew without a doubt that Hercules would figure out what had happened and find some way to undo it.

But, could Herc fix this? Or, was he trapped here for the rest of his life. There was no food in his pack, and his waterskin was empty, waiting to be filled in the rever in the morning before they moved on. There was no shelter, no light, no food or water here, or at least none that he'd seen so far. Should he explore further, try to find his own way out? Was there a way out? But, then, how would Herc find him when he came?

If he came.

Sinking to his knees, Iolaus fought the sense of despair that crashed over him. If what he suspected was true, he must be in some kind of holding place, some kind of in-between space…though he hadn't been born, he still lived and had to be somewhere until he died…which, from the looks of things, wouldn't be all that long.

Wrapping his arms around his body, fighting the chill that penetrated to his bones, Iolaus wondered how long he could last…how long he'd want to last in this forbidding prison in time.

* * *

Hercules pushed back the terrible fear, not wanting to believe it could be possible, as he stamped out the fire. The trouble was he knew that with the gods anything could be possible. Too worried at that point to be angry, resolutely he held onto his desperate hope that there was another answer…there had to be another answer. This was too…too unbelievable, too terrible to contemplate. Turning, he headed into the darkness, seeking the trail and then the road they'd followed from Corinth. Before he jumped to any conclusions, he needed to check out his assumption of what had happened. He needed to see Jason, to see if he remembered…but his thoughts shied away from the possibility that Jason wouldn't remember Iolaus.

There had to be another explanation for what had happened…there had to be. Because, if there wasn't, he had no idea of what he could do to reverse it, to make it right.

Bile burned in the back of his throat as he thought about Iolaus, about the possibility…he coughed and choked on it, gagging with horror. No. It couldn't be that.

There had to be another explanation.

* * *

Iolaus huddled in the cold darkness, his knees pulled up, his arms locked around them, muttering to himself just to have the comfort of hearing his own voice in the endless, limitless silence. He was cold, and thirsty, but he'd struck another brief fire long enough to explore a little and know that wherever he was, there was no food, water or shelter here…just the disgusting mud that sucked at his boots and chilled his butt. He couldn't even lie down, despite the exhaustion that was beginning to overtake him as the shock, fear and despair wore him down, because the mud would only chill him further, lessen his ability to resist the cold…kill him even faster than would the lack of food or water.

"Fine time to have left the blankets from my pack back in Corinth, just because the season was turning toward the heat of summer and I was too damned lazy to carry them," he castigated himself, shivering in the darkness.

Staring into the black void, his mind told him this couldn't be real. It was too bizarre…too incredible. It couldn't be what he thought. How could someone be made to be 'unborn'. What about all the people he'd known, the deeds he'd done? Were they just all erased, forgotten, undone? And that made him wonder if anyone, even Hercules, remembered he'd ever lived.

Because, if Hercules didn't remember him, then there was no hope.

His stomach clenched with new horror at that thought, and he felt a wave of nausea, making him swallow hard as he told himself Herc would never just forget he ever existed.

'It was a lifetime!' his common sense fought back as he pushed badly shaking hands through his hair. 'How could anyone, even a god, erase an entire lifetime?'

"Maybe this is just a bad dream," he muttered with a flicker of hope, "and I'll wake up soon…gods, I hope I wake up soon."

* * *

"Jason!" Hercules called out as he loped into the palace's private chambers and pulled up sharply, surprised to see his mother there. The King and Alcmene looked up from where they'd been sitting by the fire, quietly talking, surprised at the unexpected intrusion…alarmed by the distraught look on Hercules' face and the tone of near panic in his voice.

"What is it?" Alcmene asked, her hand coming to her heart as she stood to move swiftly to her son's side. "What's wrong?"

Distracted for a moment, Hercules stuttered, "What are you doing here?"

Jason had risen and joined them, answering smoothly for Alcmene. "Your mother had come to the city to do some shopping, and when I learned she was here, I prevailed upon her to grace my castle with her presence. But, what brings you back so suddenly…and what has happened to make you look so desperate?"

Hercules' gaze turned briefly to his friend, and then again sought his mother's eyes. "I'm glad you're both here," he replied, his throat tight. "Iolaus has disappeared."

"Iolaus? Who's Iolaus?" Jason replied, confusion filling his eyes as he tried to understand why the disappearance of someone named Iolaus would have this effect on Hercules.

An expression of horror filled Hercules' face as he stared at Jason. "You don't remember him?" he murmured, shock clear in his voice. Then, in desperation, his eyes dark with fear, he looked down at his mother. "Gods, please, tell me you remember him!" he demanded, gripping her shoulders.

She had to remember…gods, she had to! Because, if she didn't, then the worst was true. Iolaus was gone, never having ever been born.

Alcmene's eyes clouded as she looked up at her son and she shuddered at the stark terror in his eyes, a look she'd never seen there before. How should she answer? "Hercules, maybe you'd better explain to us what has happened," she replied, evading his question.

Frowning, aware she hadn't answered him directly, he swallowed and took a deep breath. Speaking quickly, his fear thick in his voice, he explained, "We were talking…arguing…and I agreed that sometimes it would be easier if he'd never have been born. I didn't mean it…gods, he's my best friend! I'd die before I'd let anything happen to him, you know that. But, when I turned around, he was gone. There was no sign he'd even been there. Mother, you have to tell me you remember him…remember him practically living at our place when he was a kid…remember that you love him like a son. Gods, please…."

Unable to lie, Alcmene looked away. The memories she held close to her heart were not those that Hercules was seeking. For all her son's life, she'd been waiting for the mysterious Iolaus to arrive, waiting in vain, wondering when he would come into Hercules' life. A passionate, courageous stranger who had said he'd gladly die to save his best friend, the man her unborn son would become. A brave stranger, who had faced down an angry, murderous goddess, and who had saved her life. She felt a stab of primeval fear, realizing now that the gods must have intervened, and now that courageous stranger would never come when the moment arrived to save her and Hercules. The disappearance of Iolaus from their lives and memories meant that when the gods played with time in the future she would die in the past…and Hercules would also never be born. Oh dear gods…this couldn't be happening!

"You don't remember him, do you?" Hercules murmured into the silence as he stared down at his mother. Turning blindly away from her to gaze sightlessly into the fire, overwhelmed by shock and horror, a soft moan escaped his lips, "Oh gods, Iolaus, what have I done?"

Jason turned to Alcmene to lay an arm around her shoulders and gain her attention, wondering if he should worry about Hercules' sanity. She looked up at him, read the question in his eyes and shook her head. "No, he hasn't lost his mind, Jason. Something terrible has happened, I'm certain of it." Turning to her son, she wrapped her arms around his rigid body, hugging him. "I believe you, that Iolaus existed…that something has happened to him. But, if his life has been undone, if it's as if he was never born, then the gods have had a hand in this. You need to seek your answers from them. With their help, there may be a way to get him back." Her words were quiet and meant to be reassuring, but she couldn't keep the tremor of fear from her voice. More resolutely, she reached up a hand to turn Hercules' head towards her, to see his eyes as she said with passionate urgency, "You have to get him back!"

Numbly, Hercules nodded. Of course he had to get Iolaus back…there had to be a way to fix this. But how? Shattered by the reality of what had happened, and by the confusion that muddled his thoughts, overwhelming him with a sense of helplessness, he reached for his mother, and held her tightly for a moment. For the first time since Iolaus had disappeared, Hercules fully accepted that the gods had taken his best friend from him, and fury ignited in his heart. He straightened, resolute, and wordlessly turned to leave the chamber, wondering where to begin, whom to ask for information about who had done this, and how to make them undo it. All that held the fury that almost blinded him in check was the realization that his mother was right…this was a time for action, not blame or revenge.

Whatever it took, he had to find a way to make this right, a way to get Iolaus back.

* * *

Iolaus had given up hoping he was stuck in a nightmare. It was going on too long, was too consistent, unchanging…unfortunately, wherever this was, it was real, and he was stuck here. He thought of trying to explore his new domain further, but the darkness worried him. He could step into a chasm, or become hopelessly lost and have no means of knowing how far he'd gone or in which direction. He had to fight off the panic he felt whenever he was stuck underground in the dark. He hated the sensation of being trapped, of knowing that he'd die alone in the dark, and it was a struggle to keep his breathing even and steady.

How many hours had it been? Time blurred, and though it had felt like days, he knew that he couldn't have been there long. He was cold and thirsty, but not dying of thirst, and though his hunger was gnawing at his belly, he wasn't starving yet. Less than a day then had passed. Gods, it felt like an eternity.

"Relax, what are you worried about?" he consoled himself, forcing himself to feel some measure of confidence in the face of hopeless despair. "Hercules will find you. No way will he leave you here for long. Just…just be patient. He's never let you down."

But, gods, he hated being trapped in the dark. Ever since that earthquake when he'd been a kid had caught him in the root cellar at home, bringing the earth down around him, trapping him…terrifying him when he felt as if he was being crushed and suffocated, he'd hated closed, dark places. Hated feeling trapped. It wasn't rational, he knew that…it was just darkness, not some ravening monster ready to consume him. But, knowing that didn't seem to make any difference. It took a conscious effort of will to keep his breathing level, to not panic. "Stupid," he mocked himself. "Just settle down. There's nothing out there."

But, that awareness wasn't comforting, either. Alone, in the dark, cold…no food, no water. Not a happy situation by any stretch of the imagination. He shuddered and wrapped his arms around his body for warmth, rubbing his upper arms with his hands. "Take it easy, Iolaus," he muttered. "Don't lose your grip."

Iolaus didn't notice that he'd slipped into talking to himself, as if his voice and his mind were separate beings. The darkness, the deprivation of any sensation but cold, hunger and thirst, the uncertainty and the fear of being trapped, the sense of being helpless, and his inability to let himself relax, to even lie down and sleep for a while, were already beginning to prey upon him, beginning to fray the edges of his sanity.

But, he clung to hope, clung to the one certainty of his life…that Hercules would never abandon him, would not rest until he was safe.

It took everything he had to push away the worry that this might be something that Hercules couldn't fix. Iolaus was no fool, and he knew one god or another had to have done this and it would take a god to undo what had been done. Only, the gods didn't care much for the fate of individual mortals, and rarely could be persuaded to intervene in the actions of other gods…and then only if there was something in it for themselves. What difference would his life mean to any of them? Resolutely, he pushed those thoughts away. It was too soon to give up all hope.

Besides, hope was the only thing he had left.

* * *

Hercules went to the chamber he always used when he stayed with Jason, confident that he could find privacy there. Pacing the slate floor, he wondered which god he could call who might know what had happened, and how to make it right. There were none that owed him any favours, but Aphrodite might at least answer his call. His throat tight, he stood rigidly in the centre of the richly furnished chamber, and called out, "'Dite…I need to talk to you."

Nothing.

"Come on…I need to know what's going on!" he grated, impatient, trying to contain his anger. He could scarcely ask for help while raging with uncontrolled fury, but he was in no mood to beg.

"There's not much to tell you," came a subdued voice behind him.

Whirling, Hercules almost sagged with relief when he saw his sister but stiffened again when he took in her wary, unhappy expression.

"You know what happened? You remember Iolaus, don't you?" he demanded in a rush, desperate to know that all memory of his friend hadn't been expunged.

Looking away, she nodded. "Yes, sure, I remember him…it's only mortals who don't. You only remember because you're part god…but," she continued, turning to face him, her eyes wide, offering the only consolation she had to give, "you'll forget him, too, in time. Don't worry. It won't take long and then you won't feel so bad."

Hercules shook his head sharply as he lifted a hand to ward off her prediction. "I don't want to forget him!" he shouted. "Who did this? How do I get him back?"

Rolling her eyes, in a 'well, duh!' expression, she responded, "It was Hera…she's gloating all over Olympus that she found a way to hurt you…and that it was your own words that made it possible. She keeps saying that you should have been more careful about what you wished for…she hopes you'll never forget him." Disgust written on her face as she paced in small circles, gesturing helplessly with her hands, the Goddess of Love sighed, "The whole point is to make you suffer…she couldn't give a fig about Iolaus himself."

"Hera…" Hercules repeated, not really surprised, fury sparking in his eyes as his fists clenched. To make him suffer, she'd annihilated Iolaus' whole life! Turning away from Aphrodite, he trembled with a passionate desire for revenge, to make Hera suffer…to make her pay dearly for her wanton cruelty and her utter disregard for his friend's life. She'd slapped Iolaus away as if he'd been no more than an irritating gnat, as quickly forgotten.

'Dear gods, Iolaus', he thought as he pushed his fingers through his hair. With evident effort, he mastered his rage…there was no time to indulge his anger, or the massive, oppressive guilt… his words… to make him suffer…that lurked under the rage, not now. First, he had to find a way to restore Iolaus' existence. He couldn't even begin to believe that his friend was…just gone…forever. "Where is he? How do I get him back?" he asked then as he turned back to face his sister, his voice and body taut with the need to do something.

Aphrodite spread her hands wide, helplessly, knowing she had no way to alleviate the pain in her favourite brother's eyes. "I don't know where he is…or even if he is. I don't think there is any way to get him back."

"I can't accept that!" Hercules spat out, wheeling away to pace in agitation. "Somebody has to know how to bring him back. Give me a suggestion, anything…."

Sighing, 'Dite's face scrunched into a frown as she thought about it. "Hades has charge of mortal souls that have passed from life. Maybe he'll know more than I do about what has become of Iolaus' soul," she finally offered, but her doubt that her uncle would be any help was clear in her voice.

Staring at her, the demigod bit his lip as his heart clenched at her words. He couldn't, wouldn't, believe Iolaus was already dead…but Hades might at least have an idea of where he'd been taken. "Makes sense. Okay, thanks…I'll see what he can tell me. If you learn anything more, you will let me know, right?" he asked, but it sounded more like a demand.

"Sure," she responded without hesitation. She'd always liked Iolaus and what Hera had done was disgusting…not to mention the fact that she'd messed with the whole fabric of time by removing someone who'd had considerable impact on the lives of others. The other gods weren't at all happy with her, and she knew Hades especially was in a towering rage as he faced the need to clean up records dating back more than thirty years. Where did he even begin to integrate souls that hadn't died in the first place, because Iolaus had saved their lives, but had now shown up distinctly confused, not to mention dealing with those who had died at Iolaus' hand and now clamoured to be given back their lives? And, then there were Iolaus' children, who theoretically hadn't ever existed, not to mention their mother, who was with them in the Elysian Fields. What did you do with the souls of people who hadn't ever been born?

Gods, what a mess. It wasn't all that simple to just say, 'You've never been born' and expect that there wouldn't be repercussions.

'Dite was glad she didn't have to figure out how to clean it all up…all the petitions she'd received from women, pleading to have Iolaus notice them, the wishes she'd granted that now had no meaning, were nothing compared to what Hades had to grapple with. Artemis, Heph and even Ares were all in a snit, rumbling about how Iolaus had been one of theirs, that Hera had had no right…but none of them really wanted to face her down over it, either. The last time she'd caught a glimpse of Zeus, he'd been scowling, bouncing lightning bolts in his hand, wondering if this action by his 'beloved' wife would cause his favourite son more than just emotional pain. Iolaus had played a key part in Hercules' life, and his absence could be a very real and tangible threat to his son. Aphrodite wrung her hands, her face scrunched up with worry. There hadn't been this much tension on Olympus since the gods had chosen sides over Troy. It wasn't so much that they cared personally about Iolaus…it was the impact of his having been ripped from time, the principle of the thing, more than the mortal himself that was causing the anger.

Lifting her eyes to study her favourite brother a moment longer, Aphrodite reflected that he looked truly terrible, his face drawn with pain, his eyes blazing with a fury that couldn't quite cover the aching despair and fear. If he didn't find a way to undo what Hera had done, Hercules might well go mad with grief and guilt. Softly she said, "I'm sorry, Hercules. I know you loved him…I hope there'll be a way to get him back. But, if you can't, please remember that this wasn't your fault! Hera did this…be angry with her, but don't blame yourself."

He appreciated her words, but her use of the past tense and the stricken look of pity in her eyes chilled him. He could see only too clearly that she thought it was hopeless. Blinking away unshed tears, Aphrodite vanished without another word.

"Hades…are you listening? Show yourself!" Hercules cried out to the air around him. If Hera was gloating, all the gods would know what had occurred, and would be following the events with morbid fascination, glad of the distraction to fill the empty hours of eternity. Unconsciously, he again clenched his fists, aching to punish her for what she had done.

There was a flash of smoke as Hades appeared before him, one hand raised as if to stave off questions. "Yes, I heard…and before you ask, no, he's not in my realm, and no, there's nothing I can do to bring him back. Theoretically, he never existed, was never born, so there's nothing for me to bring back. Which, though no doubt you could care less, has created a truly massive amount of work…you wouldn't believe the mess I have to clean up…souls who died when he wasn't there to save them, souls who lived because he wasn't there to kill them…."

Hades knew that he should have simply restored all the newly lucky souls to life and put the others into inventory. However, ever since Hera had acted, he'd been assuming that Hercules would be intervening, and might just find a way to return everything to the way it had been. So, he was dragging his feet, metaphorically speaking, waiting to see what would happen next. Consequently, it was almost with a sense of relief that he had answered his nephew's call. But, still, he couldn't think of anything that was likely to help.

He'd been right to assume Hercules could care less about Hades' problems at that moment. The demigod cut into the God of the Underworld's flow of words, referring back to the first statement, the one that said there was nothing Hades could do.

"That's ridiculous!" Hercules sputtered, then grasped at the one straw Hades had left him. "You said, 'theoretically he never existed'…that means he still does exist, somewhere, right? Someone who's alive doesn't just vanish as if they'd never been. If he isn't dead, where is he?" Hercules demanded, impatient, afraid.

Hades looked away, his expression grim, wondering what good it could possibly do to give Hercules details that would only sicken him further. "He's nowhere…a place of no light or warmth, no food or water. His body will die and become dust and that will be the end of it."

Hercules stiffened, stunned by his uncle's words, as he shook his head slowly. "No," he whispered in denial of Hades' cold summation. "No…"

But, Hades just shrugged and made as if to go. "Wait," Hercules called out, faltering in the face of his uncle's implacable certitude that there was no way he could save Iolaus' life. "What…what will happen to his soul?"

Hades frowned as he licked his lips, clearly finding the conversation distasteful, reluctant to share more. "As it stands now, Iolaus was never born. Therefore, his soul can have no place on the Other Side. It will have to remain in the darkness of 'nowhere'."

"Alone…forever?" Hercules murmured, staggered, unable to take it in. 'This can't be happening!' his mind raged as his heart twisted painfully and nausea roiled in his gut.

"I'm afraid so," Hades confirmed briskly, uncomfortable with the aching despair he could sense in Hercules' heart. Offering the only solace he could, he continued, "But, whatever remains of his awareness will flounder in time, and he'll go mad, unaware of who he was or where he is or why. It will be peace, of a kind, I suppose."

"Peace?" Hercules protested, his voice rising, tight with horror. "Peace? Lost and abandoned? He deserves better than that!" His anger forgotten in his terror for his friend, Hercules felt desperation claim his soul. He'd do anything…anything…. "Why can't I get him back? There must be something I can do…if not directly, then some favour for you or another god, so that you can bring him back…."

But, Hades shook his head, again raising his hand to cut off the protests, the demands. "Accept it, Hercules. You know the rules…one god does not interfere in the actions of another. Iolaus was never born. In time, you will forget him. Everyone else on earth already has. There is nothing you can do to bring him back. Face it. He never existed and that's that."

"But, that's just not true!" Hercules raged, his fear and despair mingling again with fury. "He exists, even now, somewhere…not 'nowhere'! You said it yourself, he's going to die. Therefore, he lives, still. There's time to intervene! Even if you won't help me save his life, Hades, the souls of mortals ultimately belong to you…how can you abandon his soul to a void of endless emptiness?"

"Look, I'm not happy about this!" Hades snarled then, pushed to his limits. And, that was an understatement. He, too, was furious, at Hera's temerity in denying him one of his own, not to mention all the rest of the mess she'd left him to clean up with the rift in time she'd made by yanking Iolaus out of it. Iolaus deserved a place in the Elysian Fields, but there was nothing he could do about it. If this curse was going to be lifted, Hera would have to do it, or all the other gods would have to agree…and there were too many who simply didn't care, too many others who even took a dark satisfaction from Hera's actions. Recovering himself, he sighed as he said more quietly, if a bit reluctantly, "I'm sorry, Hercules. There isn't a god in the pantheon, let alone all of them, and that's what would be required, who's going to go to war with Hera over this, over a mortal, just because he's your friend. What's done is done."

Hercules stared at his uncle for a long moment, shocked to the core of his being, struggling with the hopelessness of the situation. Eyes darkened by horrified despair, his face bloodless and haggard, he shook his head. "I can't…can't just do nothing. I can't leave him there alone…I can't…."

Hercules didn't want to believe it, couldn't believe there was nothing he could do. Gods, he wanted to fight someone so badly, do anything to reverse this. But, he had no power to threaten Hera, to force her to retract the curse…and she'd only laugh at him if he asked. It was hopeless to try to fix this by taking her on…but he knew that if other gods wouldn't or couldn't help him, he had no way to get Iolaus back. It was like being in a box, trapped with nowhere else to turn, and he couldn't think of what else he could do. He'd never faced anything like this before…never felt so devastated, so helpless. The thoughts, images, pounded in his mind, almost incoherent in his horrified fear and grief for his friend, 'Gods, Iolaus…stuck there for eternity. No light, no warmth, food or water…dying alone…his soul forever in darkness…alone …I can't do this…I can't just leave him…there must be something…anything…I can't….'

Hades' jaw tightened, and he looked away, thinking he'd better leave now before the only option that remained occurred to his nephew. Zeus wouldn't thank him if he got himself involved…but, before he could flash away, Hercules' strangled question stopped him. "Can you…can you send me to him?"

Too late.

The god sighed and he closed his eyes, imagining the work that would cause. What a mess! He could cheerfully throttle Hera for this. Finally, nodding tightly he answered, "Yes…but, understand, you would be wishing yourself to be 'unborn'…wishing yourself out of existence. You and Iolaus would both be trapped there, and even if you go to him, Iolaus will die. I don't know whether you will or not. Hercules, you would be trapped there forever, with only his soul to keep you company."

"Better than to be trapped here, without him," Hercules replied, his decision already made. "Give me an hour and then send me to wherever he is."

"Hercules, you should think about this…the decision is too important!" Hades protested, imagining his brother's response when he learned what had transpired. Unconsciously, Hades shivered a little at the thought of Zeus' rage.

Hercules stared back at his uncle, his chin up and his shoulders squared back as he demanded, "Is there anything, anything at all, that you or one of the other gods can or will do to bring Iolaus back?"

Hades also straightened as he gazed into his nephew's stormy blue eyes, "No."

"That's it, then," Hercules replied levelly, as he turned and headed out of the chamber, calling back over his shoulder, "One hour…then send me to Iolaus."

* * *

Iolaus had taken to pacing, rubbing his arms to restore some semblance of warmth to his chilled body. Three steps, wheel around, three steps back, over and over. The darkness seemed to be closing in around him, stifling him, overwhelming him. He'd burned all he had that was flammable and now he was shrouded in perpetual black emptiness. As he paced, the same questions kept playing over and over in his mind. How long would he be here? What if Herc couldn't get him back? Where was he anyway?

His fear had turned to anger, though he tried not to blame Hercules for his current predicament. Herc hadn't meant it, hadn't meant that he wished Iolaus had never been born. An unguarded moment had been manipulated, probably by Hera or Ares, or Strife or Discord, or whoever, it didn't really matter.

But, the rage burning in his soul for this violation consumed him. "Who are you? Why don't you face me? Sneaking around, perverting your powers! Ares…was it you? Or Hera? Yeah, I'll bet it was Hera… you've never had the guts to face us head on. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT to condemn me to this! DAMN YOU!" he stormed as he paced, shaking his fist at the invisible being who had chosen to torment him this way.

The rage, the shouting…it didn't really help. Nor did it change anything. He was here, wherever 'here' was, and he had to deal with that. But, gods, how did you deal with endless nothingness? Licking dry lips, pushing shaking hands through his hair, Iolaus again cursed the cruelty of the gods, not just on his own behalf, but on behalf of his friend as well. He had no doubt that Hercules would be tortured by this, by the fact that it had been his words which had led to this. He'd never felt so helpless, and he hated it, hated being a pawn, because that's what this was about. He was being used to get at Hercules, his own suffering simply a by-product, probably not even of interest to whichever god had done this to him. DAMN IT!

Oh gods, how could he stand this, stand being here in the dark, with no way out? No way but death. For a moment, he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, tempted…sorely tempted to end it now. At least he could deny the scum of Olympus the joy of his suffering. But…he couldn't take the coward's way out. Not yet anyway, not while he was still sane, not while he could still hold onto even the slightest hope that Hercules would find a way to beat this, to get him out of here. Not so long as he still harboured some vestige of self-respect. He wouldn't give the tormenting god the satisfaction of having beaten him.

Brave thoughts. But there was no one there to impress. Just the cold and the darkness. Just the empty void. He was alone…and once the anger burned away, he had to acknowledge he was afraid, very afraid. He shivered in the darkness. It was taking every thing he had not to cry out in mindless terror as the blackness pressed in on him.

Exhausted, Iolaus sank to the muddy ground, too weary to care any more about the chill that enveloped him, wondering how long he'd last before he went mad.

* * *

Hercules called to servants as he strode along the corridors, demanding that they gather blankets, food, water and torches soaked in oil, as much as he could carry and they could collect in an hour, directing that they bring the supplies to him in Jason's quarters.

When he returned to the salon, he found Jason and his mother waiting for him. Suddenly, he wasn't exactly sure how to tell his mother what he'd decided to do. Looking up at him, she read determination mingled with profound sorrow in his face. "What have you learned?" she asked, rising to meet him, still daring to hope that he'd find a way to make this right.

Running fingers through his hair, Hercules looked away then back down at her as he laid gentle hands on her shoulders. "I can't get him back," he said quietly.

"Oh, Hercules, no…" she gasped, tears gathering in her horror-filled eyes, understanding more than he what this meant for both of them. There would come a point in time when she would need Iolaus to save their lives, but he wouldn't come…and then it would be over, all of it, for both of them.

Hercules swallowed, then he explained softly, "I can't leave him alone…to die in the dark of an endless void."

Confusion clouded her eyes, then cleared only to have her gaze blur with grief. "Oh my son…" she sighed, understanding, pressing her eyes closed against the pain of it.

"I have to go," he said quietly, putting it into words. "Please understand…"

"What are you talking about?" Jason intervened. "Where? Where are you going?"

"To wherever he is," Hercules explained, turning to face his friend, wishing there was a way to make this easy.

"But…if you can't get him back, how will you get back?" the King demanded, scowling heavily, not at all happy about what was going on.

"I won't be coming back," Hercules replied starkly.

"Won't be…but that's crazy!" Jason protested, aghast. "Hercules, you can't do this! Give up everything, your life, all the good you could do…for someone who doesn't even exist?"

"He does exist!" Hercules exclaimed, for the second time in an hour. "You can't remember him, but he's alive somewhere, alone, in the dark. He's going to die there! I won't leave him alone like that!"

"If he's going to die, what good can going to him now do?" Jason argued, pragmatic in part, but more in desperation to keep his best friend from walking away from life. "Hercules, be sensible!"

"Jason," Hercules raised his hands, understanding the pain he saw in his friend's eyes. "I'm sorry, this is something I have to do."

"Alcmene, tell him he's wrong," Jason appealed to her for support.

But, she lowered her head, shaking it a little as she looked away. "I can't," she murmured brokenly. "I think, somehow, that this is right, that they should be together."

"You're as crazy as he is!" Jason shouted, exasperated. By then, servants were arriving with sacks filled with supplies and stacks of oil-soaked torches. "What's all this?"

"There is no food, water or light where Iolaus is…I'm taking supplies to keep us going for as long as possible," Hercules explained, bending to gather the supplies together.

"Why? You can't take enough to last forever. Hercules, this is madness…hopeless. If this Iolaus exists at all, you've said yourself he'll die there…and so will you. Please, don't do this," the King begged.

"I'm sorry, Jason, but you can't talk me out of going," the demigod sighed, then offered a half-hearted grin of ironic comfort, "When I'm gone, you won't remember I was even here."

Hades appeared at that moment, though he was visible only to Hercules. One brow lifted sardonically when he saw the supplies but he refrained from commenting on them. Hercules was behaving predictably, still hoping there'd be some reprieve if he could only keep Iolaus alive long enough for it to happen. The God of the Underworld did not have the heart to argue with him about it. In fact, he hoped Hercules would find a way…and in so hoping, he decided to hold off a bit longer on taking action to clean up the situation and his records. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Nodding, Hercules gathered up the bundles, slinging the sacks over his shoulder, holding the torches in the grip of one arm, then remembered to light one of the torches in the hearth's fire. He turned to gaze at his mother and his old friend. "I'm going now," he said quietly. "I love you…." He vanished from their sight.

Sobbing, Alcmene slipped to her knees. Confused, Jason looked at the woman he loved, moving to hold her. "What's wrong," he asked gently, already having forgotten Hercules ever existed.

Confused, Alcmene raised a tear-streaked face, and stared wordlessly for a long moment into Jason's eyes. She felt as if her heart had just been broken, haunted by a memory she didn't understand but knew in the depths of her heart was real…it was real!

"My son…" she murmured brokenly. "I've lost my son…."

"Iphicles?" Jason asked, his eyes narrowing in concern.

"No…Hercules," she whispered, looking away, trying to understand the memory, to work out what it meant.

"Hercules?" Jason repeated, confused. "But…you don't have a son named Hercules…."

Shaking her head, her lips pressed together as she frowned in furious thought, Alcmene stood and looked into the flames dancing in the hearth. There'd been fire…a goddess had come from the future to kill her. A blond stranger…the best friend of a son who'd never been born said he'd come from the future to save Hercules…that he'd die for her and for Hercules, with no regret. Something…something terrible had happened, she knew it…but couldn't remember.

Confused, she turned back to look at Jason with tear-filled eyes. "I don't know how to explain this, Jason…I have a memory of something I know happened, as surely as I'm standing here…but…" she shook her head. It made no sense.

Worried, Jason moved to put a steadying arm around her shoulders. "Tell me…maybe I can help," he offered softly.

Looking away, she played it all out again in her mind. Heard again all that the courageous stranger, Iolaus, had told her. He'd come from the future, a man in his thirties from the look of him…but she had no son named Hercules. However, if her memory of what had happened was true…and if Hercules did not now exist, then Iolaus might never come for her, never save her. Pressing a hand against her stomach, as if that could quell the stab of nausea she suddenly felt, she turned back to Jason.

"I think the gods are at work, Jason," she began slowly, frowning as she worked it out in her mind. "I think they've taken my son, a son fathered by Zeus, and his best friend, Iolaus, as if they had never been born. It's the only thing that could make any sense, the only thing that could explain…we've forgotten they even existed, though I think they may have only just left us. And, someday soon, I too will cease to exist."

"What?" demanded the King, appalled and now frightened by her odd, haunted demeanor. Gods, what was she talking about?

"I don't know if I can make you understand," she faltered, "I'm not sure I understand it myself. But, there will come a time in the future when a goddess will travel to the past to destroy me and my unborn child…the child who would have become Hercules. It was Iolaus, Hercules' best friend, who came to me from the future to save my life before Hercules was ever born. He told me about Hercules, about the man, the hero he would become, how much good he would do…and that he was the son of Zeus. Iolaus said he'd do anything to save my son's life. And, he did, he saved my life. But…if there is no Hercules, and we know of no Iolaus…then, what will happen when that future time comes? Because if he doesn't come from the future to save me, the goddess I remember will kill me…and then, I won't exist anymore either."

"Alcmene, you're not making any sense," Jason said, his eyes dark with concern.

"I know!" she replied tightly, wringing her hands. "But, I remember him still, I think, because that memory actually comes from the future, not the past. In a way, it hasn't happened yet…but, it was my past…and I remember it so clearly, Jason…I know it happened! I know there was a man named Iolaus, and a son named Hercules...I know they must have lived. I can remember him so clearly…somewhere in his thirties, blond, curly hair, blue eyes, a smile that melted my heart…he was so brave, willing to die to save me. I even remember saying something about a child in the village, a two-year-old named Iolaus, who stole pastries…Jason, now I don't remember ever meeting that child! What have the gods done?" She faltered, looking up into his eyes, seeing the love there, feeling her own love for him in return, though something told her their feelings for one another had never been acknowledged. "Don't you see…if Iolaus doesn't come, I'll have died thirty or more years ago. You'll not remember me…because that will mean that we won't ever have met."

Jason frowned, trying to understand, but having no idea what she was talking about. However, the phrase, 'the gods are at work' gave him something to work with, something with which to fight what she was telling him. Jason might not understand what was going on, but he loved her and couldn't bear the thought that they might never have met. He put his arms around her, holding her close as if by sheer will alone, he could hold onto her forever. But, if the gods were at work, as she believed, it was beyond his power to protect her. Looking down at her, his voice gruff with his fear for her, he said, "If what you say is true, you'd better talk to Zeus."

Sniffing, Alcmene wiped her eyes and nodded. Jason was right. If anyone could clear up this mess, it was Zeus. Drawing herself away from the warmth and security of his embrace, she turned away, to head to the garden to call upon the King of the Gods.

* * *

The brightness of the flaming torch after so many hours of unrelieved darkness blinded Iolaus, and he brought his hands swiftly to his face to shield his eyes, blinking rapidly to restore his vision. Hercules looked around sharply, turning until his gaze found Iolaus a short distance away, crouching in the mud, then standing slowly, preparing for attack, though he was clearly still blinded by the light.

"It's all right, Iolaus…it's me," he said quietly, relieved to have found his friend was still alive.

"HERC!" Iolaus called out joyously, a smile blazing across his face as he rubbed at his eyes. "I knew you wouldn't leave me here!" As his sight cleared, at first he only saw Hercules, and his gaze glowed with relief. "Come on. Let's get out of here!"

But, Hercules just looked away, shuffling a little as he dropped the heavy sacks and the extra torches he'd been carrying to the muddy ground. Looking around, changing the subject, the demigod reflected dryly, "Dreary place, isn't it? I thought you might have made it a little homier by now."

Iolaus snorted, then looked around with a sigh, "Yeah…makes Tartarus seem downright cozy, doesn't it?" Wondering why Hercules was trying to distract him, confused, Iolaus looked from the sacks to Hercules. "What's wrong…and what's with all the stuff? Can't we just, I don't know, flick out of here…or is it going to be a long journey, so you brought the supplies we'd need?"

Looking back at his friend, Hercules sighed and shook his head. The expression on his face was bleak as he said, sorrow echoing in his voice, "There is no way out. Because of what I said, Hera cursed you. You've never been born." Swallowing, he looked away again, blinking hard. "I'm sorry." He bit his lip… 'sorry' was such a totally inadequate word…but there were no words to describe how he felt about what he'd inadvertently done to his best friend.

Iolaus sagged a little as he absorbed Hercules' words. Hera. No way out. Never been born. Yep, just about the way he'd figured it as he'd grappled with the endless darkness. Still, though his mind might have grasped the situation, his heart was unwilling to accept it. "But…we can't stay here, Herc. Look around…there's nothing here, no food, and no water. It's impossible to survive here…." His words faltered as he again looked at the sacks lying in the mud. "That's why you brought the supplies, isn't it? To stave off the inevitable, for a while at least."

Hercules looked up and met his eyes, nodded and shrugged helplessly. "I couldn't think of what else to do…it's my fault that this happened…."

"Bull," Iolaus interjected, impatient with the guilt, having had hours to work out exactly where he put the blame for all this. "I started the whole conversation…but, neither of us meant what we said. It was just words. This is Hera's fault…let's at least be clear about that." Moving forward to cover his sudden despair with action, to gain a little time to think, he bent to examine what Hercules had brought and gratefully pulled a blanket from one of the sacks, wrapping it around his cold shoulders. Finding a waterskin, he drank…but sparingly, realizing it was all they had. Soberly, he thought about the finality of it all. Herc couldn't save him this time…he was going to die here. But, at least he wouldn't die alone.

Looking up at his best friend, Iolaus gave him a wan smile. "Thanks…for coming to stay with me until I…well, until it's over."

The look in Hercules' eyes as they gazed into his, the way Hercules looked away as if to keep him from seeing something made Iolaus suspicious. "You can go back, right?" he clarified, having simply assumed that Hercules would never be trapped here with him, not forever. Zeus would never allow Hera to curse Hercules with a fate like this.

The demigod shook his head, then turned back to face Iolaus. "No…I can't go back, either."

"WHAT?" Iolaus demanded, surging to his feet. "What do you mean you can't go back? Did she send you here, too? I can't believe Zeus would allow that! But…how did you know to bring supplies if she just zapped…."

"Hera didn't send me here," Hercules interjected into the torrent of words. "I chose to come."

"You chose?" Iolaus repeated numbly, looking around at the barren circle of mud revealed by the flickering torch in Hercules' hand. "Knowing you couldn't go back? Gods, Herc, why would you do a stupid thing like that?"

Wordlessly, Hercules shrugged, a quizzical look on his face accompanied by a half smile that played around his lips, but it was the expression in his eyes that held the answer to Iolaus' question. Understanding bloomed in Iolaus' eyes before he closed them, his face crumpling a little in grief and regret as he sighed heavily, "Oh Hercules…for me?" His voice cracked as he lifted a hand to cover his trembling lips and his head bowed as he turned away.

Hercules reached out then, wrapping a strong arm around his friend's shoulders, drawing him close. "Of course, for you. How could I leave you in this place alone?"

Iolaus struggled to regain control of his emotions, struggled with the realization that Herc had just given up his life to be with him, even if only for a short time before they both died in this desolate, empty place. Without conscious volition, he hugged his tall friend, then pulled away, brushing at his eyes. Swallowing hard, he replied hoarsely, "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to see you…I really am. But, Herc, this is a death sentence, for me anyway. We don't know if you're mortal…you could be stuck here alone forever."

"No, I won't be alone," Hercules shook his head. "Alive or dead, Hades told me this is where your soul will be…we'll keep each other company for eternity, one way or another."

"My soul?" Iolaus repeated, frowning. He hadn't thought about what would happen after he'd died. Gods, even their souls were trapped here? And, Herc had known that…and hadn't been willing to let him suffer this alone for all eternity? He blew out a long breath as he absorbed it all. But, it was still too much. Remembering the guilt in Herc's eyes and voice, in his words, Iolaus worried that his friend had decided to share his fate as some kind of unnecessary penance. "Herc, you shouldn't have done this…gods, people back there need you. I'd never expect, never want you to give up everything…your life, just so that I'd not be alone, you know that."

"I know…this is what I want," Hercules replied quietly, looking around at the cold mud, wishing he'd thought to bring more blankets and an oil-soaked tarp or two to make a tent. Hades should have given him more information.

Iolaus couldn't help it; he snickered a little at the look of unconscious disgust that had appeared on Hercules' face as he surveyed their new domain. "You can still say that, even after seeing the place?" he asked with irresistible humour.

Hercules turned to look at him, a smile lighting his features as he replied candidly, with no hesitation, "Oh yeah, Iolaus, absolutely. The place may be godsforsaken, but all I ever really want, and need, in my life is right here."

Iolaus found he had to swallow again, hard, before he could return that smile, and even then his was a wobbly facsimile. His eyes began to burn, and his heart ached with the love he felt for this man, overwhelmed by what Hercules was giving him, out of friendship…out of love.

Turning away, pretending to study the sacks on the ground, Iolaus muttered brokenly, "Yeah, I know what you mean…everything I ever wanted or needed is here now, too. We'll manage."

Hercules grin broadened fondly as he shook his head. He knew Iolaus hadn't been referring to the supplies he'd brought, knew his best friend was just buying time to get his emotions under control. For all that his buddy could chatter on forever about almost anything, and never hesitated to act on what he felt most deeply, Iolaus tended to choke up whenever he was confronted by how very much someone else, particularly Hercules, loved him.

But, Hercules didn't know that Iolaus was haunted by the fact that he was costing Herc his life. Closing his eyes against the pain of the price Hercules was willing to pay for their friendship, Iolaus blinked hard against the tears, forbidding them to fall. "Gods,' he thought, 'I need him here, I know I do…but he gives too much." Turning his silent gaze back upon his friend, who had turned his own eyes to the bundles on the ground, Iolaus prayed, hoping someone would hear him…and that Herc would forgive him, "Don't leave him here in this desolate wilderness…he doesn't deserve this. Please…take him back."

"We always do," Hercules agreed with feigned cheerfulness to Iolaus' confident assertion that they'd 'manage', unaware of Iolaus' grief for him and hiding his own at the knowledge that Iolaus' time was limited at best. Kneeling, he jammed the burning torch upright into the mud, and then turned his attention to sorting the supplies, mentally assessing how long Iolaus could last with what he'd brought. So long as they were alive, he had to believe there might still be some chance, though he couldn't imagine what it would be. Iolaus had suggested they might be able to walk out of here. Biting his lip, he doubted it… wherever they were, it wasn't part of the world they had known. 'Still,' he thought as he looked around at their gloomy environment, 'the air has to come from somewhere…might be worth exploring.'

When Hercules failed to vanish, failed to be whisked away back to his life, Iolaus came to kneel across from him, helping to sort the supplies. "Thanks," the hunter murmured quietly, knowing the word could never be enough. It seemed his prayers weren't being heard…he couldn't save Herc from the consequences of his own choices, not this time anyway. Not the one damned time when it meant the most.

Lifting his gaze back to his partner's bowed head, Hercules smiled again, with no regrets other than that they had to be here in the first place. "Don't mention it," he said quietly. "I know you'd do the same for me."

Iolaus went perfectly still for a moment, then his head bobbed once accepting the tribute…acknowledging the truth of it.

* * *

By the time Alcmene had reached the garden, the skies had darkened with heavy clouds and a wind had blown up, signaling a storm was on the way. "I wonder why?" she murmured sardonically to herself. If what she surmised was true, Zeus would be furious. She scarcely had need to call his name before the King of the Gods appeared before her.

"This is unacceptable!" raged Zeus at her.

'Ah,' Alcmene thought, 'there is something going on here that's terribly wrong…I knew it!'

When she didn't answer, the King of the Gods shouted, almost incoherent in his fury, "How could you let him do such a fool thing…wish himself unborn! Bad enough Hera had to curse Iolaus with being 'unborn' …but for Hercules to choose to join him…."

"How could you let that happen to Iolaus?" Alcmene countered, angry now in her own right, remembering the valiant and endearing stranger, knowing what had been done to him was an abomination. How dared Zeus yell at her about this mess! She wasn't the one who created it.

Zeus harrumphed and turned away, pacing back and forth in his agitation. Hercules had been his favourite. It was more than annoying to lose him this way, especially after he'd made certain the gods weren't to harm him directly. He'd have a few things to say to Hades about his role in all this. Not even fully aware that he had begun to voice his thoughts aloud, he stormed, "It was one thing for Hera to banish a mortal from existence, but for Hades to aid Hercules into nothingness is infuriating. The fact that it was what Hercules wanted is beside the point. The mortal will die anyway and my son's life will have been wasted."

She was furious at the cavalier way Zeus wrote off Iolaus' life, referring to him so coldly as 'the mortal', as if his death didn't matter…oddly, she thought then, it was Iolaus she felt the most for…she could remember him. But, she had no memory whatsoever of Hercules…he was but a name, someone Iolaus had loved enough to risk his own life. Then she realized Zeus didn't seem to grasp the implications of Hera's curse on Iolaus, or his importance in Hercules' life. Thoughtfully, she mused, "Perhaps you don't know…can't you see into the future?"

"What?" Zeus demanded, distracted from his thoughts. "The future? No, I can't see it…only the Fates have any idea of what the future might hold. What does the future have to do with any of this?"

"Then you really don't know…" Alcmene replied.

"Know what?" Zeus intervened angrily. "Would you speak plainly, woman! I'm not in the mood for guessing games."

"Don't you use that tone with me," Alcmene replied coldly. "I'm just as upset about this as you are…perhaps more…I can't even remember my own son! Just one memory from long ago tells me that he had to have existed, that something horrible has happened."

Zeus bristled, then sighed. Moving to embrace her, he said more quietly, "Yes, I know you're upset and I'm sorry. I just can't understand why he'd do such a thing. I know he cared for his friend…but to give up his life? And, you didn't try to argue him out of it, not at all…he might have stayed if you'd tried to persuade him. That's why I was angry with you, my dear. You are the only one who might have been able to hold onto him."

Alcmene pulled away from the god's embrace, nodding sadly as she acknowledged his words. "Perhaps," she allowed, unable to remember what she had or hadn't said. "But, what good would it have done? If you can't see the future, you don't know that it doesn't matter, that there was no point in trying to argue Hercules into staying."

"I'm sorry, Alcmene…I really have no idea what you're talking about. How can you know what the future holds?" Zeus asked with a puzzled frown. "And what difference does it make now, to what Hercules decided to do with his life?"

"Soon…I can't be sure exactly when, but sometime in the next few years, a goddess will travel to the past to kill me and my unborn son," Alcmene explained, then elaborated to answer the questions she could see in Zeus' eyes. "My life, and Hercules' life, were saved by a stranger, a man named Iolaus, who came from the future to protect me from the goddess. He said Hercules was his best friend, that he'd do anything, even die if need be, to protect him. But, now, there will be no Iolaus to travel to the past…I will die when she comes and Hercules will never have been born. So, you see when Hera took Iolaus, she sealed Hercules' fate, and mine, too. You don't know this because you can't see the future…but it was my life. I remember it! Taking Iolaus from the world couldn't erase my memory of something that hasn't happened yet."

"Which goddess dared to attack you!" he thundered, furious.

"I don't know," Alcmene replied. "I didn't recognize her and Iolaus never said."

Zeus' eyes narrowed as he regarded her thoughtfully, wondering if this made a difference. His rule was that no god could directly kill Hercules…could that rule save his son's mother before he was born? No…because he hadn't imposed the rule until long after Hercules had been born and Hera had first tried to destroy him with the serpents when he'd been but a babe in his cradle. Turning away from Alcmene, he stroked his chin as he thought it through. Could the rule be invoked to require Hera to undo the curse she'd placed on Iolaus, forcing her to restore reality as it had been, with him alive, since her actions now would result in Hercules' death? Again, in frustration, he shook his head…the assault had been against Alcmene, killing Hercules as a by-product, not a direct act. Damn it.

He could see clearly now that Iolaus, far from being a mere mortal, was needed in the world if Hercules was to live at all. But, he couldn't simply order Hera to retract the curse and restore the mortal's life. Nor could he intervene himself…unless, perhaps, all of the other gods agreed that her actions were insupportable and warranted intervention. Hmmm. He could but try, though he held little hope of successfully gaining unanimous support. Unfortunately, there were a few gods and goddesses, Ares, Strife and Discord came to mind, who would be only too happy to know the full results of Hera's action.

Turning back to Alcmene, he said quietly, "Thank you for sharing this information with me. I'm not sure it will be enough…but I'll try to use it to force Hera to retract the curse on Iolaus. If I can get him back, I'm certain Hades won't hesitate to bring Hercules back as well."

"Thank you," Alcmene replied, relieved to know he'd at least try. They had no other hope…if this wasn't enough, then she'd soon be dust and the world would never know either Hercules or Iolaus. Blinking back tears once Zeus had vanished, she tried to remain resolute and strong…where there was life, there was always hope. She'd always believed that philosophy and now the time had come for her to hold onto to it for dear life.

Jason emerged from the castle, and his heart ached to see her in such despair. Moving to her side, he drew her into a warm embrace. "Will he help?" the King asked.

"He'll try," Alcmene sighed, leaning against Jason, feeling his strength, laying her head against his chest, hearing his heart beat. She began to weep quietly. "I don't even remember my own son…only that he must have been born because a stranger named Iolaus told me so and that his name was Hercules! Oh, Jason…what if Zeus can't bring them back?"

"Shhh," Jason whispered, holding her more securely. "He's the King of the Gods…is there anything he can't do?"

Almene accepted his support a moment more, then pushed herself away, a new thought having occurred to her. "Jason…how did we come to know one another?" she asked, frowning, unable to remember. Looking at the King, she wondered what their relationship had been when her son had existed. Though she felt a strong attraction to him, no more than that, she felt love for him, she now realized he was much younger than she was. With a sinking feeling, she realized he had no doubt been a friend of her son's, and she was simply here as a visitor. No wonder she had no memory of any words of love between them!

"I don't know," Jason replied with a thoughtful look at her. He loved her, he knew that…but he couldn't remember a single other day they'd spent together…the past seemed hazy, indistinct. "Does it matter?"

Confused, Alcmene looked around the garden, wondering what to do. She needed his support, his strength, but deep inside, she was afraid it wasn't right. Looking back at him, wanting only to be held in those strong arms, she answered softly, reluctantly, "It might…I think I'd better go home."

"I'd like you to stay," Jason offered, hoping she'd accept, feeling a sense of desperate loss at the thought of her leaving.

But, she shook her head with no little regret. "Thank you…but…I should go."

Turning, she walked away from him, wondering why she felt it so hard to do. He watched her go, feeling helpless and confused, only knowing how much he wanted her to stay.

* * *

In the flickering uncertain light of a torch, Hercules watched Iolaus sleep. His friend had been exhausted when he'd arrived, and with a little water and food to alleviate his discomfort, and a blanket between his body and the freezing mud, Iolaus had succumbed to his weariness. Looking around the emptiness, Hercules went back over the inventory of supplies in his mind. They had enough to last a couple of weeks, maybe, even longer if he, himself, only ate and drank sparingly. Two weeks, or three…and then Iolaus would slowly and painfully die of starvation and thirst.

The demigod sighed, sickened by the thought, sorrow bleaching his features. Unable to accept the hopeless inevitability of it all, even now, he stood and paced, thinking about their situation, and finally decided that they might as well explore further. Maybe there was more than cold, slimy mud somewhere in this vast nothingness. Maybe they could find food, or water, at least…or a passage of some kind to a better place.

Looking back at Iolaus, Hercules knew they had no choice but to try…staying here was a guaranteed death sentence for his friend, if not for himself as well. As soon as Iolaus woke up, they'd move out and see what they could find.

* * *

Zeus didn't call an immediate assembly of all the gods. He needed to marshal support, needed to be certain of his strategy before he called for a vote against Hera. Since Hades was already a part of it, Zeus began with him.

The God of the Underworld listened impassively to his brother's story, chewing a little on his lip as he considered the more personal implications of Hera's having removed Iolaus from the world. Though it was a stretch, there was some merit to Zeus' argument that her actions had, however unwittingly, violated one of his principal rules, and therefore was unsustainable. Studying his brother, Hades reflected that it needn't be this difficult. Surely, Zeus could simply make another rule that no one could invoke a future act that would result in the death of Alcmene at any time in her life, and then all they'd need to do was bring back Hercules. He'd sent Hercules, he could bring him back. Though his nephew wouldn't be pleased.

However, Iolaus would be grateful, Hades thought as he remembered the pathos of the mortal's prayer. He'd ignored it, knowing Hercules would only demand to be sent back again, and if Hades wouldn't do it, he'd find a god or goddess who would…but he'd been impressed with the mortal's courage in daring to face the void alone for eternity for Hercules' sake. Stroking his jaw, the God of the Underworld reflected that Iolaus deserved a chance to be restored to his own life. Gazing around at his domain, hearing the clamour of souls who weren't sure if they should be there or not, thinking about all the administrative work he faced if Iolaus wasn't restored, Hades decided to keep his idea to himself. If no one else thought of it, then perhaps they'd agree to having Iolaus back in the world…and then he wouldn't have so much cleaning up to do. Nodding, he gave Zeus his support.

Zeus went to Aphrodite, Artemis and Athena in short order. He knew they'd always held a soft spot for the impetuous mortal…knew they thought he was 'cute', and they sincerely cared for their half-mortal brother. He wasn't surprised when they quickly agreed to support his argument. None of them cared much for Hera and wouldn't mind seeing her thwarted.

Poseidon was next. He'd always liked Hercules so he wasn't reluctant to lend his support. Demeter was convinced more or less readily when Zeus reminded her that Persephone would be spending all of her time with Hades if Hercules hadn't been alive to intervene. Hestia had been appalled by Hera's wanton disruption of the timeline and discreetly refrained from reminding Zeus he'd done something similar not so many years ago, but at least his actions had disrupted only a few days of time, not more than thirty years of it! So, she agreed the Queen of the Gods actions should be revoked. Hecate was less easy, but she resented Hera on principle and, like Hades, also resented the loss of Iolaus' soul…it belonged in the Underworld, not lost in some schism of time. So, finally, she too agreed.

Hermes and Apollo agreed to support him largely for the pure devilment of foiling Hera's wishes, though both harboured some fondness for the mortal, and they both got a kick out of giving Hercules a hard time. They'd miss the demigod if he wasn't around. But, simply being fond of the mortal would never have been enough since they both accepted that mortals died however fond one might be of them. It was that Iolaus was needed to ensure Hercules lived that finally swayed them definitively to Zeus' side.

Zeus didn't bother seeking out Persephone. She would, of course, agree if only to support her husband's will. Fortune, Phobos, Proteus, Morpheus and the host of lesser gods who had no stake in this one way or the other he also ignored…they'd follow the main crowd when it came to a vote.

So, that left those who cared little for Hercules and nothing for Iolaus, except perhaps for the glee they felt at all that had occurred. Ares was the key. Strife and Discord, Daemos and the other troublemakers would follow his lead.

Having heard his father out, Ares regarded him with a look of wonder mixed with sardonic amusement on his face. "Why would you ever think I'd care if Hercules had never been born?" he asked his father, smiling coldly as he shook his head. The God of War would have cause to reflect back on this conversation with some dark amusement on that day in the future when he would send Iolaus back in time to save Alcmene and her unborn son from Callisto. He'd comfort himself that it was to avenge Strife and because so long as Callisto had a pendant full of Hind's blood, she was a threat to him and all the gods. But, that day was as yet far in the future and Ares could not imagine any scenario in which he'd go out of his way to save his despised half-brother, let alone the mortal runt he hung around with.

Zeus regarded his son with a baleful glare thinking that the question hadn't been unexpected. Having anticipated this recalcitrance, the King of the Gods didn't bother with persuasion, didn't try to cajole…he simply went straight to threat.

"How would you like to be the God of Cute Puppies?" Zeus asked. "We don't have one of those, and Athena can take care of War by herself."

Ares wheeled away with a smoldering scowl. His father would do it, too, if thwarted in this. "Did you threaten the others?" he demanded over his shoulder to buy time to think.

"I didn't have to," Zeus responded mildly but glad of the fact of it. He knew that even with his power he couldn't have sustained threats to all the gods simply to restore the lives of a half-mortal son and his mortal best friend.

"Much as I would love to have you owe me a favour, you're asking me to cross my mother," Ares argued, "and Hera's wrath is something I'd really rather not deal with."

"Would you rather face my wrath?" Zeus replied implacably, confident of the answer.

Ares paced the floor. There had to be another solution that didn't have him caught between the two most powerful gods on Olympus…because he knew exactly who his mother would hold responsible if there was a unanimous vote against her.

"I'm waiting," Zeus pushed, his tone harsh and impatient.

"Yeah, yeah, hold your thunderbolt, I'm thinking," Ares replied, but his tone was mild if not respectful. Finally, he whirled to face his father, a smile on his face as he considered the idea that had just come to him. "Why do you need Hera to revoke her curse? Who needs Iolaus? All you need to do is put a new rule in place…no one goes back in time to harm Alcmene at any stage of her life, period. That way, there can be no future threat against Hercules being born!" Ares held out his hands with a look that said, 'now, aren't I brilliant, Daddio?' as he waited for his father's response.

Taken aback by the idea, Zeus looked away to consider it. Hades could easily bring Hercules back, Alcmene would be protected, and, except to Hercules, the mortal's fate wouldn't matter. Hera could be left out of it. Neat. Very neat. He should have thought of it himself. He'd been too distracted by the mortal's role in all of this.

Neither of them could know that the dark forces which would send Callisto after Alcmene could care less about any rules Zeus might ever make…or that, indeed, the whole point of that future attack would be to ensure that Hercules would never be born.

Nodding, Zeus looked back at his son. "You seem to have come up with an acceptable solution, Ares. Congratulations…you get to remain the God of War without compromising your role as the quintessential momma's boy."

* * *

They'd been traveling through the muck for what they figured had to be at least two days, though it was hard to keep track of time in the void that surrounded them. So far as they could tell, they might just as well have saved their energy…nothing had changed, nothing at all. They talked, even teased one another and joked, during that time, but they did not talk about the situation itself. It was as if they had both decided to ignore it, pretend this was just one more journey, that they'd find a way out…determined to carry on as normally as possible as long as they could. Except, the first day, Hercules had asked, "Aren't you angry, Iolaus? You must be…."

"Angry? No…furious, maybe," Iolaus quipped back, then gazed at his friend, his expression sobering. "Aren't you?"

"I'd like to kill her for what she's done," Hercules replied coldly, the fire of hate flaring in his eyes.

"Yeah…me, too," Iolaus reflected starkly. "But…it just uses up energy that I can't spare. Anger's useless here…there's no impact, no relief. It's a waste of time."

Hercules had gazed at his friend, then around at the featureless, dark-enshrouded sea of mud. "Yeah," he'd agreed softly, then turned to resume their search for a way out.

When they weren't traveling, they quenched the torch to save the only means of light they had for as long as possible. Swallowing the last morsel of the small hunk of cheese he'd allowed himself, Iolaus sighed. Two days, and nothing…nothing was any different. The mud sucked at their boots, impeded their progress, the air was still damp and chill, the darkness unabated. It was hopeless and he knew it, though he hated to say it because it would only depress Hercules. But, even Herc had to know there wasn't going to be a happy ending this time…the hunter hadn't failed to notice how little Hercules was eating or drinking as he tried to eek out their supplies for as long as possible. Herc probably wouldn't eat at all if Iolaus would allow that…which he wouldn't.

Iolaus didn't relish the idea of starving to death, and had it been his own preference, he'd have chosen to fall on his sword rather than simply dwindle away in this empty dark void of cold mud. But, as the days passed, what bothered him most was that Hercules would have to watch him die, and then have to be here alone, starving, maybe to death, maybe only to live in misery forever. Iolaus couldn't bear those thoughts…he would do anything to save Hercules from all of that if it was in his power. Much as he treasured having Hercules with him, much as he dreaded an eternity as a lost and lonely soul, he wished Herc hadn't've come.

"Herc," he asked quietly knowing his friend was sitting close by though he couldn't see him in the darkness, needing to know if there any chance of saving his best friend from the fate he'd chosen, "do you think, if you asked, Hades would let you leave this place?"

"Doesn't matter because that's not something I'm ever going to ask," Hercules replied in a tone that suggested a different topic of discussion would be a good idea.

"Yeah, I know…I was just wondering," the hunter said softly, a hollow ache in his voice, as he struggled to find the words to persuade Hercules to go back.

"Why?" Hercules asked into the darkness, bothered by something he heard in his friend's voice, deciding that maybe they needed to talk about this after all.

"Well, it's just that I don't think we're going to find anything better here…that this is all there is…" Iolaus answered hesitantly, not wanting to seem to be losing hope, though he had.

"So?" Hercules continued, "what does that have to do with me leaving?"

"Herc…we know I'm stuck here…and, well, we know I'm going to die when the food and water runs out. There isn't anything you can do to stop that from happening. It's just that, well, I'd die easier if I didn't have to think about you being stuck here forever, that's all," Iolaus finally stammered, making it all about himself, not about how much he just wanted Hercules to live and be safe, far away from here.

But, his friend wasn't fooled. Hercules knew who came first in Iolaus' life, though he also knew Iolaus hadn't just lied to him. His friend would die easier if he thought Hercules wasn't also trapped here. "Eternity is a long time to be alone, Iolaus," was all the demigod said quietly, his voice tight at the thought that Iolaus really was going to die soon.

Thinking that the answer might be a slight indication that Hercules was open to consider his options, specifically that maybe he might consider getting out of here, Iolaus leaned toward his friend, ready to encourage him to go. "Yeah…but, so is eternity sitting around with nothing to eat or drink and only a ghost to keep you company. Look, I can't tell you how much it means to me that you're willing to do this for me, Herc, but it's driving me crazy, thinking about you being here when you don't have to be."

His words were greeted with silence as Hercules struggled with his emotions. He knew how much Iolaus hated being trapped alone in closed, dark places, knew what dying alone with the awareness that even his soul would be trapped here forever meant to his best friend. So, he knew the full measure of what Iolaus was offering when he encouraged Hercules to go back to the life he'd had. "You're wrong, you know," he finally replied. "I do have to be here. I might have the strength to move a mountain, Iolaus, but I do not have the strength to live each and every day knowing you are condemned to this. I'm sorry if 'it's driving you crazy' to think about it, so you might want to think about something else…because I'm not leaving you here alone. Period. Got it?"

"Yeah, but…" Iolaus tried again.

"No 'buts'." Hercules' tone was flat. The discussion was over as far as he was concerned.

"Well, if you insist…" the hunter replied, trying to keep the conversation alive. He had to find a way to change Herc's mind.

"I do." Well, that was pretty clear.

"Okay…." Iolaus finally capitulated, albeit reluctantly, feeling choked by emotion. It wasn't right, he didn't deserve this. How could anyone deserve the love that drove the choice Hercules had made?

But, gods, he was grateful, more than simple words would ever be able to convey.

Hercules reached to cover the hand that had just gripped his arm as Iolaus wordlessly sought to thank him for what he was willing to do, what he'd chosen to do. Then the demigod pulled on his friend's arm, drawing Iolaus into a tight hug. "I know it seems hopeless," the demigod murmured into his friend's hair, "and I know you're more afraid for me than you are for yourself…that it's because you love me that you want me to go. But, gods, Iolaus, I love you, too." Hercules voice cracked and he paused for a moment to regain his own control before continuing, "I can't let you face this alone, and I won't. All of our lives, we've faced everything together, you and I…and we're going to face this together, too. Whatever happens, Iolaus, we do this together."

Hercules could feel his friend tremble under his hands as Iolaus fought off unwanted tears. Finally, the tremors stopped and Iolaus sniffed as he pulled back from the embrace. "Together, huh? Okay, Herc, back to back it is, just like we always promised one another," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

"Uh huh," the demigod replied, his unseen smile in the warmth of his voice. "Just like we always promised each other."

"So," Iolaus cleared his throat as he ventured to change the subject since all that needed to be said seemed to have been said, "who do you think will win the Olympic Games this year?"

* * *

The Fates were furious with Hera. While Hades might resent the additional administrative burden her action had caused him, it was nothing compared to the disaster it had made of their tapestry. They trembled with their rage as they contemplated the work before them, of having to cut threads they'd secured by placing Iolaus' thread over others, to protect them, of having to reweave other threads they had chosen to cut by his actions, threads that had needed to be cut because those lives would only go on to destroy others that had worth. Picking their way through the complex patterns to unmake new lives that had been born, to weave new patterns, would take countless years of work and chaos would reign in those lives until they could set it all to rights again. The Queen of the Gods had acted spontaneously, thoughtlessly and had created unfathomable damage…not that she cared a whit for the problems she'd made for others. Selfish bitch.

And, now, Hercules' own choice had added to the disaster. Wars that he had prevented would now rage, lives he'd changed, protected, saved…the influence he'd had on the choices of others…all of it undone. They could scarcely begin to imagine where to begin to sort out all of the threads, all of the lives…it was overwhelming and very disconcerting. They were used to a sense of control and choice but that had all been ripped from them. They didn't like it…not one bit.

Like Hades, they'd hesitated to take any action to change the tapestry they'd woven with such great care, though they knew this would leave all the mortals affected with unclear and hazy memories of a now undefined past. Because, like the God of the Underworld, they'd hoped Zeus would force Hera to retract her action. But, they knew he was even now on his way to order Hades to bring Hercules back, so it looked like the original strategy to make Hera recant by reinforcing Alcmene's memory so that she could convince Zeus of the necessity of Iolaus' life wasn't going to work. Curse it, they'd had to scramble to work that bit into the pattern and now it was all for naught.

It wasn't just the past that worried them, however, bad as the damage was. Zeus was wrong when he'd told Alcmene the Fates could read the future. They couldn't, not in detail. But, they could sense its vibrations, perceive its shadows and possibilities. For some time now, as they gazed at the tapestry, and laid out the markers for future events, they had all felt an oppressive shade, a power there that frankly terrified them when not much else ever had, not through all the eons of time.

And, whatever it was, it wasn't far away.

When they tried to lay out the threads of the gods, the foundation of their other work, the shadow crossed the colourful strands, causing the threads to unravel and break in less than what would be a five year span into the future. But, for a long time now, Hercules' thread had remained whole despite what occurred with the rest of the gods, so they had planned to use his thread to save the others from whatever danger was lurking out there once the threat became clear. Only, now, his thread lay shriveled and brittle too, as it had been ever since Iolaus had been removed from the world. Despite Zeus' new rule, it seemed Hercules' life was still at risk, and, because he was at risk, so too were the lives of the gods. Which, as inconceivable as it seemed, left their own fates in question.

All things considered, the situation was completely unacceptable.

Lachesis stroked the golden thread that represented the hunter, the thread she had always consciously woven with extra strength so that this mortal could match the demigod, and could protect Hercules when the need arose. The shadow that only they could see seemed to lurk over the heroes' threads as well, touching them even before it touched the gods. But for reasons they didn't understand, the threads of the demigod and his staunch partner seemed to have withstood the force of the shadow, at least initially, long enough for Hercules to protect the gods. Farther along, even Iolaus' thread became brittle. Biting her lip, Lachesis frowned. This was supposed to be her pattern…it was infuriating to see it coming apart and not understand why, or what to do. She only knew that somehow they had to ensure Iolaus' thread stayed within the pattern. He was not expendable.

"There's something out there," mumbled Clothos darkly, looking up from her spinning, shivering a little.

"Aye," agreed Lachesis, as she fingered the woven strands, flinching away from the malignant shadow that lurked just out of sight. "There is a great evil that threatens all we know, that blocks the pattern I wish to weave."

Atropos stroked her shears as she too gazed at the pattern, trying to understand what it was trying to tell them. "Whatever it is, we were right to decide Hercules was the one who would remain to fight it…but, for Hercules to live, we need Iolaus to live. It looks as if it's the evil out there which will kill Zeus' son before he's born, not any of the gods on Olympus, unless Iolaus is alive to save Alcmene…Zeus is a fool and his new rule is useless to save either his son or any of them."

Lachesis looked around at her sister. "Perhaps you should tell Zeus about this. He doesn't know they are all in danger if Iolaus is not alive to save Alcmene and Hercules."

The suggestion was made reluctantly. Normally, they guarded the secrets of the future, even from the gods. It was their domain, and they were jealous of it. But…nothing about this was normal.

Surprised, Clothos looked up from her spinning to see Atropos nodding thoughtfully in agreement. "I don't think I have any choice if our tapestry is to continue."

"Good thing you didn't pull out the golden thread just because Hera wanted it gone," the spinner sniffed. "Looks like it's the only hope any of them have."

Atropos sighed as she again fingered her shears. They hadn't pulled the thread, nor had she yet cut it. But, they would have to get Iolaus back soon or she'd have no choice. He couldn't last forever in that void he'd been consigned to by Hera.

Turning, her back stiff with grim determination, she went to find Zeus.

* * *

After they'd slept, they resumed their search for something better, slogging through the mud that clung to their boots, slipping in it as it oozed under their weight and sucked at them, trying to bring them down. The torch pushed back the darkness, at least allowing them to see where they were going. However, they both were beginning to wonder if the hard march was worth it, or if it was all an illusion and they were really still back where they had started days ago.

"Do you think Hera designed this place especially for me, Herc, or was it just a handy void she decided to stash me in?" Iolaus mused as he pulled his boot from the mud in which he'd sunk up to his ankles.

Hercules turned to him with an indulgent smile. "Well, much as we both know how much you've always annoyed her, I don't think she'd have gone to the trouble of creating something this original. You know Hera, more is better. Left to her own devices, she'd have had fire pits and obstacles, chasms and the odd poisonous deadly monster to play with," he replied.

"Yeah," Iolaus agreed, thinking about it. "The fire pits would have been a good touch though…add a little warmth to the place. Obstacles are good…make a bit of a challenge and change to endless mud. But, I guess I could do without the monsters."

The demigod chuckled. "You don't mean that…there's nothing you love so much as a monster to test yourself against. Could have given us hours of amusement."

Iolaus laughed at the thought, thinking of other monsters they'd bested together. Herc was right…it had been fun, and exciting. This place, on the other hand, was just plain boring. He'd turned his head to grin at his buddy when Hercules simply vanished before his eyes, the torch he'd been carrying falling to sputter in the mud.

"Herc!" Iolaus cried out, taking a step toward where his friend had just been standing. "Hercules!"

Swiftly, Iolaus bent to retrieve the torch before the mud could quench its fire. Lifting it, he turned in a circle, but he was alone. Hercules was gone.

"Guess somebody decided you didn't belong here after all, buddy," he murmured softly. "Probably Zeus…and, just as well, I guess. Like I told you last night, you didn't really belong here anyway."

Iolaus looked at the sacks of supplies that Hercules had been carrying and which were now scattered in the mud. Relief that Hercules was safe mingled with the sharp pain of loss, leaving him reeling. Tears blurred his vision and he bit his lip to still its trembling. Herc was gone and they hadn't even had a chance to say 'good-bye'. Sniffing, he rubbed his eyes, reminding himself that he was glad Hercules was free of this prison. 'At least, when they took him back, I was laughing…I hope he remembers that. Better than watching me die,' he thought.

Looking up and around at the void, Iolaus called out, "If you can hear me, tell him…tell him that its all right, that I'm glad you took him away from here. Tell him to get on with his life, to not worry about me. And…tell him thanks…that I'll never forget that he wanted to be here with me, whatever the cost. Gods, whoever you are…please…tell him I'll always remember our lives together, always be glad to have been his friend…always…forever. What Hera has done can't ever change that. And, then, if you can… make him forget I ever existed."

Iolaus' voice broke as he sank to one knee in the mud, overcome by the thought of never seeing Herc again, and the realization that if his wish was granted, Herc wouldn't even remember him. But, some part of him knew his best friend would continue to do everything Hercules could to get him back, no matter how hopeless it seemed to be. Besides, nobody was listening to him anyway so it didn't matter what he said, what he wished…except to himself. In a voice that was little more than a whisper, he vowed, "I'll do my best to hold on, Herc…I'll make the supplies last, I promise. But, gods, buddy, if there's nothing you can do, or if I die before you can save me, please, gods, please don't blame yourself."

The torch, having been dampened by the mud, flickered and went out, leaving him again alone in the oppressive, endless, darkness.

* * *

Iolaus' laughter was still ringing in his ears when Hercules found himself facing Hades in the Underworld. Shocked by the sudden change of venue, the demigod looked around for his friend, hoping Iolaus had also been retrieved from the void, but Iolaus wasn't there. Turning back to Hades, he thundered, "What have you done? Why have you brought me here?"

"Zeus wanted you back, Hercules. I had no choice," Hades responded, irritation clear in his voice.

"Send me back!" the demigod ordered, furious to have been ripped away from his friend, with no choice, no warning.

"No," Hades replied shortly. "I can't do that…nor can anyone else. Zeus' orders."

"I promised Iolaus I wouldn't leave him!" Hercules raged, his heart breaking for Iolaus, alone again in the void.

Hades held up a hand to stem the furious shouting and cocked his head, as if listening. He nodded briefly to himself, then looked back at Hercules. "Iolaus asks that you be told that he thinks this is right, and that he's glad that you've been brought back. He wants you to stop worrying about him and get on with your life…he says that he'll always remember that you tried to be with him, will always be grateful for that… he'll remember the lives you shared and will always be your friend, regardless of what Hera has done."

Hercules snorted as he shook his head, moisture glimmering in his eyes. "Is that supposed to make me feel better…are you just making all that up?" But, in his heart he knew Hades wasn't lying to him…the words were exactly those that Iolaus would choose to say 'good-bye'.

"He also asks that I use my power to make you forget that he ever existed," Hades reported, his eyes searching Hercules' gaze, wondering if that wouldn't be the best thing after all.

"No," the demigod protested, lifting his hands as if to ward off a blow. "No…don't do that. I don't want to forget him, not ever."

Frowning, Hades again held up his hand, listening. "He doesn't know I'm still hearing him," Hades said quietly as he pressed his eyes closed, concentrating on the distant whisper. "He's vowing to himself to last as long as he can because he knows you'll keep trying to get him back…but, he doesn't want you to blame yourself if there's nothing that can be done for him."

"Ah, Iolaus…" Hercules whispered brokenly as he turned aside, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes, devastated by his friend's courage…and by the horror Iolaus now faced alone. "Why couldn't you have all just left us alone? Why did you have to bring me back?" he murmured, lost in grief and pain.

"You didn't belong there," Hades replied dryly.

"Neither does Iolaus!" Hercules thundered, whirling back to face the God of the Underworld. "You brought me back…now you can help me figure out how to get him out of there. I'm not leaving him there, and I'll do whatever I have to do to save him from this…do you understand?"

It was a threat, and Hades knew it. The force of the demigod's passionate rage was palpable. If he couldn't be there with Iolaus, then Iolaus had to be here with him. It was as simple as that and Hercules didn't give a damn what Zeus or Hera or anyone else might do to get in his way. He should have fought them in the first place, not given up so easily. He was incandescent with rage and he'd do whatever it took to get Iolaus back this time, or die trying. But, he vowed to himself, he wouldn't die easily or alone.

Hades was about to reply that there was nothing more he could do when he was saved from Hercules' wrath by the sudden and unexpected appearance of Hermes. "Emergency Assembly on Olympus," the messenger reported in a rush. "Your presence is commanded by Zeus immediately." Noticing that Hercules was there, Hermes turned to him. "You might want to come along, too…I suspect it's about your friend, Iolaus."

"Great," muttered the demigod. "Maybe I'll take the opportunity to kill Hera while I'm there."

The two gods pretended not to have heard him…after all, they could hardly approve of his intentions, but they didn't want to discourage him from trying either. It would certainly simplify everything. However, giving one another a knowing glance, both Hades and Hermes also knew it was only wishful thinking.

Hera was a goddess…she'd kill Hercules if he tried to harm her and claim she'd had no choice. A losing strategy, Hades reflected, one that would accomplish nothing except her satisfaction. But, this assembly meant something had changed, something had altered Zeus' thinking. Hades reflected he was glad he'd thought to leave the supplies Hercules had taken with him, supplies which would help the mortal last a little longer…maybe there was still some hope of a solution to the chaos Hera had created. Taking Hercules' arm in a firm grip, meeting the demigod's glare without flinching, he commanded, "Cool it, Hercules. You won't do Iolaus any good if you're dead. Remember that…."

The trio vanished in a blinding flash of light as they headed toward the Assembly on Olympus.

* * *

"So what's the big deal?" whined Strife to anyone who would listen. "I was having a good time with this cute little barmaid in Lessos…."

"Shut up, worm, and we might find out," Ares cut in with a growl, grimacing at the unlikely image of Strife attempting to be charming. Scowling, he looked around at the assembled gods and goddesses, none of whom looked overjoyed at being ordered to attend this Assembly. Hermes and Hades flashed in, the last to arrive…'Surprise, surprise,' the God of War thought, 'look who they brought with them.'

Oblivious to the splendour around him, Hercules scanned the crowd, glaring viciously at Hera when he spotted her but forcibly holding back his wrath until he found out what was going on. First things first…get Iolaus back and then deal with the bitch. Pulling his gaze away from her, he turned to Zeus, and moved through the crowd to stand close beside the elevated throne on which his father sat.

But, Zeus forestalled any conversation by raising his hands and calling the Assembly to order. "There is a matter of great import to all of us," he proclaimed, "that we must decide upon immediately. I am referring to the matter of the mortal, Iolaus." Turning to Hera, he stated unequivocally, "You must restore him to the life he had."

Hercules paused, surprised at his father's command. This was more like it…but, when he turned his gaze across the hall toward Hera, sitting arrogantly on her own throne, he could see it wasn't going to be that easy.

Hera rolled her eyes as she shook her head. "You have no right to command me in this matter, Zeus."

Frowning, Ares called out, "I thought we'd settled this already. Why is it so important to all of us that the mortal be restored?"

Hercules turned toward his brother with a low growl, but Zeus reached out and laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Not now, Hercules," he muttered under his breath before responding more loudly, "The situation has changed. I have learned that our own future is in peril by an unknown but powerful threat. Without Iolaus in the world, we are all at risk."

"Oh come on," scoffed Ares, "he's just a mortal! What difference could his life possibly make to all of us? No offence, bro, I know he's your friend and all, but let's get serious. What 'threat' exists that we don't already know about?"

"The form is unclear," Zeus responded, shuddering a little at the memory of the Fate grimly making her point by holding out her shears and snapping them open and closed, as if upon his own life thread, "but Atropos was very specific in her warning. We are all in danger and the Fates believe Iolaus is all that stands between us and possible annihilation."

There was a hush at the invocation of the Fates, then a low buzz as gods murmured amongst themselves.

"Well, that's convenient," Hera observed flatly as her gaze swung to Hercules, "for you."

"Bring him back," the demigod demanded, his voice as cold as ice, his eyes flaming with hatred.

"Maybe you should," interjected Aphrodite. "The Fates don't give warnings lightly…and they aren't usually wrong."

"Definitely, you should," intoned Poseidon. "Mortal or not, if he stands between us and disaster, then you have no choice but to recant your curse upon him."

Other voices raised in alarm and affirmation of the necessity of putting the feud with Hercules and his mortal friend aside for their collective benefit until the hall was filled with the clamour of shouting gods. Watching, listening, seeing even Ares glare at her in silent warning, the Queen of the Gods realized she was about to lose the initiative, the control of the situation. If Zeus could gain their unanimous support, he could over-ride her wishes. But, she wasn't ready to give in, not completely, not yet. Hera raised a hand for order. She'd recant, but on her terms. "All right, I will lift the curse, but only if Hercules will do something for me."

"Like maybe kill himself?" giggled Strife, who then gulped when he realized his words had echoed in the sudden stillness.

"Nothing so drastic as that," Hera replied with a scathing look at the witless god. "No…just a simple labour, a contest if you like to win the prize of the mortal's life. What do you say, Hercules? Do we have a deal?"

"What do you want me to do?" the demigod asked, willing but wary. It galled him to have to do any deed for her, but Iolaus was worth far more than his pride. He'd do anything in his power, gladly, to get his friend back. Surely she'd not demand something impossible…it would be against her own self-interest. The others all listened intently, wondering what she was up to…wondering if her spite would leave them all at risk. But, she'd offered a deal, and if it was reasonable, then they would, some of them at least, support her.

"Why, I would have thought you'd do anything to get your precious little friend back…was I mistaken?" challenged the goddess.

"No… providing no innocent is hurt, I'll do whatever it takes to get Iolaus back safely," Hercules replied, his voice tight with control, hating to impose any caveat, knowing Iolaus would despise him if he didn't. For a moment, he wondered if that mattered so long as Iolaus could be saved, but he knew Iolaus would despise himself as well, if his life cost someone else so dearly.

"No 'innocent'? By what definition?" Hera inquired mildly, shaking her head. "Your friend is on the threshold of death, his existence blotted from the memory of mankind, and you'll still quibble about the lives of so-called innocents?"

Hercules trembled with anger and trepidation. Gods, surely she wouldn't demand something he could not give, not without betraying everything he, and Iolaus, had ever stood for. "Iolaus wouldn't forgive me, or himself, if his life cost that of another," he growled, standing firm. "Dammit, Hera, tell me what you want me to do." It was taking everything he had to hold onto the thin edge of his control, hardly able to believe he was having this discussion, that he was ready to even consider doing her a favour. But, Iolaus' life depended on it…everything else paled in the face of that.

"I want you to bring me a golden apple from the Garden of the Hesperides," Hera instructed with grim amusement. "It's a simple task, one well within your abilities…and, no, there should be no need to harm any 'innocents'."

Hercules froze at the request, his eyes focused inward as he thought about the task, how long it would take. "You ask too much…he'll be dead before I can find the garden and get back. It's too far…." He protested then, looking back at her, hearing the grumble of gods who agreed with him and didn't want their own lives left at risk if he should fail.

"Well, then his death will be your failure and none of my doing, won't it?" Hera crooned. "You'd best hurry."

"Hera," Zeus cautioned, "remember that we need the mortal alive…."

"Then we'd better all hope that Hercules is up to the challenge," she replied haughtily. But, as the grumbling increased in volume, she softened, even chuckled lightly as she soothed them. "Oh relax, all of you. I'm not such a fool as to risk my own existence, or yours. Hercules took food and water into the void, enough to last the mortal a month. Surely the task won't take anywhere near that long. But, to demand this is my right…would any one here contest that?"

Silence greeted her words, her assurances having addressed their concerns. Hercules gazed at them all, thinking them fools. She was mad…and in her madness was risking it all, risking them all. The journey was to the far western lands, the location of the garden a closely guarded secret known by few. She was asking this because even she, herself, did not know where the garden was, or she'd get the damned apple herself.

Desperate, he offered another option.

"How about you bring Iolaus back now and I promise to get the apple as soon as I know he's safe," Hercules proposed. They all knew his word was good…he'd perform the task even if Iolaus was already restored to his life.

"This is not a marketplace and I don't haggle," Hera replied scathingly. "You're wasting time, Hercules…I suggest you be on your way."

Hercules glared at her a moment more, his hate and fury vivid in his eyes. Then he looked around in disgust at the gathered host of gods. Some frowned thoughtfully or in sympathy, but most seemed to be enjoying the spectacle. Very few cared about what Iolaus would suffer during weeks of emptiness, believing he was going to die, not knowing that a reprieve was coming. None were about to intervene on his behalf, not now that they were assured Hera would bring him back…they were all confident that Hercules could meet the challenge successfully.

He was filled with fury, ached to tear into her, to punish her for what she'd done, for what she'd demanded. But, though he might hurt her, she would quite likely kill him for the assault…and that would leave Iolaus trapped forever. He couldn't risk that, couldn't risk letting slip the fury, the madness that played around the edges of his sanity.

It was only too clear that only she could restore Iolaus to his life. None of the others would intervene to help him now. So, he'd have to do her bidding. He had no choice. Nodding tightly, unable to trust his voice, Hercules turned to race from Olympus. It was a long journey and he couldn't afford to waste any more time here.

Zeus watched him go. It was Hera's right to demand recompense, but this was risky. She wanted to torment Hercules, and his friend for as long as was possible, that much was clear. But, none of them could afford for Hercules to lose this gamble. He turned cold eyes on his wife, thinking her hate was going to take them to the edge of the abyss.

* * *

Iolaus had chosen to stop tramping through the emptiness believing that it was more important now to conserve his energy and strength. Gritting his teeth against the darkness and the silence, he resisted the temptation to burn the torches for light until he couldn't stand the eternal blackness a moment longer, and then he only burned them briefly, for relief. He fought his hunger and thirst, severely restricting his intake of nourishment to the bare minimum to survive. Wrapped in the blankets against the chill dampness of the mud, he tried to sleep as much as he could to pass the time as painlessly as possible.

But, he could only sleep so much.

And, then he had to face the emptiness again, the hopelessness of being trapped here for eternity. He'd heard stories about what sensory deprivation could do to a person, stories of individuals who lost their sight and hearing, who slowly went mad. Stories of men who were tortured by being left in the darkness of dungeons, with no contact with others, for too long…who lost themselves somewhere inside their minds and who never found their way back. So, to keep himself occupied, he told stories about the adventures he'd shared with Hercules, imagined he was telling them to the demigod, imagining Herc's reactions as he embellished and exaggerated to his heart's content. He recounted his memories of Anya and of his family. He raged at Hera for something to do, feeling better, briefly, for having screamed out his bitter fury.

He talked to himself until he went hoarse, just to hear the sound of his own voice in the emptiness.

* * *

The Garden of the Hesperides, the three daughters of Night, was a long way from Olympus, at the far western end of the Mediterranean Sea. Hercules knew he had no hope of getting there and back on foot, not in the time allowed. So, he'd headed to Corinth, running for three days without respite, pushing himself as fast as he could go, until he staggered into the castle courtyard, calling for his friend.

When Jason loped into the courtyard at the summons of his guards, he found Hercules bent at the waist, hands on his thighs as he heaved for breath. "Hercules! Thank the gods you're alright!" the King called out, then hastened to his friend's side to place a supporting arm around him. "By the gods, man, you've near run yourself to death. Come in…rest."

Jason's personal memory of Hercules had returned three days before, and with it was the memory that he had forgotten his friend when Hercules had gone after Iolaus. While Jason still could not remember Iolaus, he knew enough from Alcmene and from Hercules' last visit that a very old, very good friend had been wiped from his memory. Jason had felt a cold fury ever since, to know his mind and memories had been violated, that someone he cared about deeply, as he cared about Hercules and knew he must care about Iolaus, could be ripped from him, leaving nothing, not so much as a shadow of grief. It was confusing, and more than disconcerting, but he had enough personal experience with the gods to accept what he couldn't understand and simply try to deal with it all. For him, dealing with it meant doing whatever he could to help get Iolaus back.

Hercules straightened stiffly, resisting Jason's pull. "No time," he gasped, grasping one of Jason's arms to pull him around so they could talk face to face. "I need a ship, Jason."

"Of course, anything," Jason replied, studying his friend's haggard features, seeing the exhaustion…and the fear. He wondered when the demigod had last slept. "Tell me what's going on…what can I do to help?"

Hercules heaved in more air, panting a little longer until his breathing settled, while he explained his mission, and it's urgency. "Hera has agreed to bring Iolaus back, but only if I first retrieve a golden apple from the Garden of the Hesperides. Jason…Iolaus only has sufficient supplies to last less than a month now. There's no time to waste."

Without taking up more time in requests for explanations that could wait, Jason turned to the aide who had followed him out of the palace. "Have the Argo's crew alerted that we are sailing immediately…and have my personal guard advised that we are leaving on a journey now."

"But, your Majesty, the Thebans will be arriving…."

"Now, I said," Jason replied coldly. "Send a messenger to the Theban delegation to explain I've been called away on an emergency. And bring two horses for Hercules and I to ride to the port."

"Yes, your Majesty," the official murmured, subdued, as he hurried off to perform the King's will.

"A horse?" Hercules groaned, almost wincing as he regarded his old friend with gratitude for his unquestioned support.

"Well, you said there's no time to lose…and while you may be able to run like the wind, I've slowed down some since our days at the Academy." Turning away, Jason hailed a guard, "Bring me a flask of cool water," he commanded.

In minutes, Hercules was gratefully downing the water, and by the time the flask was empty, the horses had been brought from the stables, messengers already dispatched to the port and to Thebes.

* * *

Sometimes, alone in the dark with only his thoughts and memories for company, the despair became overwhelming and Iolaus wept. For his lost family. For the love he hadn't known from his father. For the mistakes he'd made in his life, the hurt he'd caused others. For himself, knowing that nothing he'd ever done in his life mattered a damn now…that so far as anyone knew or cared, he'd never existed.

But, weeping with self-pity wasn't his style, so with no little self-disgust at his weakness, he'd pull himself together again, and try to think of other things to keep his mind occupied. He did his best to mark the passage of time, cutting notches in one of the torches for the passing of what he presumed to be a day. But, he knew he was only guessing, that he couldn't really tell how much time had passed. Still, it was a way of marking time, of giving some form and structure to the interminable, indistinguishable hours. It helped him hold onto some sense of reality…helped him believe that the passing of time still mattered.

That staying alive another day mattered.

In those dark moments, when the despair crowded in, Iolaus recalled the lessons he'd learned in the east, and began to meditate again, seeking his centre, his balance…seeking perspective and calm. It helped, and so though he'd given up daily meditation years ago, he returned to it now. Whenever he woke, he spent time meditating to help him find the strength to face the darkness and the lonely solitude until he slept again.

* * *

They'd left port an hour before, and now, with the ship well underway, Jason joined his friend at the rail. "All right, now we have the time for you to tell me more about what is going on…and how it is that Hera has given you the chance to win Iolaus back."

Hercules looked over his shoulder at Jason, then straightened to face his friend. "You remember that I went to join Iolaus?" he asked, trying to find a logical place to begin his explanation of events.

"Yes…you'd said he'd been cursed by Hera, that it is as if he'd never been born, but that he was being held somewhere, in a place out of time. You'd told Alcmene and I that you couldn't bring him back, so you were going to join him, so that he wouldn't spend eternity alone," Jason replied. "And, then…you vanished." Jason looked away, uncomfortable with the guilt he felt. "I didn't remember you, after you'd gone, and I still can't remember Iolaus…I'm sorry. But, all of a sudden, three days ago, my memories of you came back to me…and I realized, that somehow, for some reason, you must have returned."

"Right," Hercules nodded as he turned back to the western horizon. "It's a terrible place Jason, nothing but cold mud and darkness. Gods, if he dies there, even his soul is condemned to that horror for all eternity. Iolaus didn't want me to sacrifice my life to be with him…but I couldn't leave him alone there. You won't remember, but about the only thing that really scares Iolaus is being trapped alone in the darkness…he was willing to face that rather than have me condemn myself to the same fate and he tried to persuade me to come back. I refused. I…I was prepared to spend eternity there, but Zeus demanded that I be returned to this world and Hades pulled me back, with no warning. Iolaus is still there, believing he'll die when the supplies I took run out."

Jason heard the grief in Hercules' voice, the demigod's fear for the mutual friend he couldn't remember. But, just from those few words, as well as what Alcmene had told him of her memories of the blond, courageous stranger, he knew Iolaus was a man he'd both like and respect. He felt chilled by the fate Iolaus faced, and shivered unconsciously. "What happened then?" he asked, to prompt Hercules who'd fallen into silence as he reflected on Iolaus' grim existence.

"Shortly after he brought me back, Hades was summoned to an Assembly of all the gods on Olympus. I went with him…and learned that there is some danger in the future, something so powerful that it threatens the very existence of the gods. The Fates have told Zeus that their only salvation somehow rests in Iolaus, and that they need to bring him back," Hercules explained.

"A threat to the gods…that only Iolaus can overcome?" Jason murmured, taken aback. "Hercules, how can that be possible? How could any mortal be capable of fighting something that threatens the gods themselves? It doesn't make any sense."

The demigod shook his head wearily as he again leaned his arms on the rail. Sighing, he replied quietly, "I don't know, Jason…nobody understands it. But, a warning by the Fates is not something the gods are prepared to ignore. They clamoured for Hera to undo her curse, to restore Iolaus to the life he was living. And she agreed, but only if I perform this labour for her, as a kind of contest to win back Iolaus' life. It's a risk for all of them, but one she's willing to take to make us both suffer as long as possible."

"I see," Jason replied. Looking out over the horizon, he continued, "Tell me more about this quest we're on. Where exactly is the Garden of the Hesperides? How does Hera know there are gold apples there?"

"I heard once, a long time ago, that Gaia gave Hera the golden apples as a wedding gift, and left them for her in the Garden, to be tended by the three daughters of Night and protected by a dragon called Ladon. As to where the garden is exactly, I'm not sure. We need to track down Nereus, the sea-god, and get him to tell us…according to legend, he's the only one who knows how to find it."

"Uh huh," Jason replied sarcastically. "Just one of Hera's simple tasks, eh? Nothing special…just a need to find the sea-god and then to best a dragon. You said we only have a month? The gods must be crazy to go along with this charade. You're good, Hercules, I'll grant you that…but, you're not invincible. And there are too many variables here, too much we can't control, given the time limit we have."

Hercules hung his head, feeling sick, knowing Jason was right. Grimly, he took a deep breath and straightened, facing the sea, as he replied flatly, holding back the despair he felt, unwilling to accept the prospect of failure, "I know…but none of that matters. I'm going to get him back, Jason. I can't fail him…he's struggling to hold on because he trusts me, believes in me…failure just isn't an option."

Jason frowned as he blew out a long breath. Then he turned to order the pilot to navigate them toward the waters Nereus made his home, and to command the lookouts to keep watch for the sea-god. Standing on the raised foredeck, he looked back at the demigod, who stood like a sentinel, staring out at the western horizon.

Failure might not be an option…but it remained a frightening possibility.

* * *

Sighing, Iolaus wondered what was worse…the need to fight off his panic at the endless darkness that pressed in on him, or the mind-numbing, relentless boredom of existing in nothingness…well, in nothing but cold, sticky mud. "Well, let's see," he mused to himself. "You've done your meditation, carved another notch in that torch, sung about two hundred little ditties, eaten one apple, one chunk of bread and a thin slab of very dry beef…and had your requisite three gulps of water. What to do? What to do?"

He twiddled his thumbs, thinking he'd give just about anything for a hot bath, a mug of ale, a bowl of boar stew, a pretty barmaid to flirt with and a good feather bed for the night. Or, how about stalking the boar through the forest first, finding its tracks, feeling the heft of the spear, smelling the clean, evergreen scent of the trees, seeing sunlight dapple on water…water. Fishing, how about that? Just sitting around, relaxing, enjoying the sun….

He growled to himself with impatience. It wasn't any good thinking about what he couldn't do anymore. It just left him feeling bereft…and lost. Terribly lost. He'd been doing a whole lot of nothing for what must be a week now, and it was fast driving him crazy with boredom…gods, if a monster showed up, he'd probably kiss it in relief.

Sigh.

If this kept up, he'd be as good as useless by the time Hercules figured out how to get him back. A man needed action to keep in shape, to keep his mind sharp. Action. Exercise. Iolaus screwed up his face in distaste. Action was good, exercise was tedious.

But, it was less tedious than just sitting around singing old bar tunes in the dark. Stretching his arms and back, he pushed himself to his feet. For several minutes, he did stretching and limbering moves, then began what would become another ritual, one that would follow the meditation each time he woke, and several more times during his waking periods until he slept again. Mock fights with his hands and feet, with his sword, toe touches, knee bends, sit ups and pushups. The last was the worst. If he missed his blanket, he ended up flat in the mud, feeling its cold, gritty surface against the skin of his chest, arms and face, at which point he'd spit out the foul taste of it, sit up and curse mightily while he wiped his face as clean as he could make it.

Day after day, hour after hour, he performed his rituals in the dark, focusing his attention on what he was doing and trying to shut out the reality of his environment. Stoically, he told himself that this way, at least, when Herc finally got him back, he'd still be in decent shape.

But, as one day followed after the next, and the hope of imminent rescue faded, he knew he did it all just to keep going. Being in shape wouldn't matter a damn when he was dead.

He just couldn't stand the boredom of waiting to die.

* * *

The devastating storm had finally blown past, the tumultuous seas calming to less threatening heights. But, it had done its damage. Though the ship had been left intact, one sail had been torn beyond any hope of repair by the vicious fury of the lashing winds and torrents of rain.

More than that, the Argo, having left port with so little preparation, had not been well stocked with supplies or fresh water. The angry seas which had crashed over the decking for hours, soaking everything, had saturated their food stocks, and worse, had compromised the kegs of water. Though no one had been killed, too many had suffered sprains and the odd broken arm or cracked ribs.

"It's no good, Hercules," Jason relayed after having gotten a full report of the damages from his crew. "We have no choice but to put into port to get more supplies." His eyes scanning the horizon, gauging their position, he clarified, "The north of Egypt, at the mouth of the Nile, is the closest."

"Dammit," muttered the demigod under his breath as he turned away with a bare nod of understanding. Pacing the deck like a caged animal, helping with repairs, all he could think about was how much the storm, and now this unscheduled stop, was slowing them down. They'd been at sea for four days before the storm had hit, searching for Nereus, the sea-god. His hope had risen a couple of times when a lookout from high above in the shrouds had called out a sighting, but it always only ever turned out to be some other sea creature…most often a dolphin.

Tacking in the wind, the ship hove to the south, and a day later put into the large, busy Egyptian port. Doling out silver from the strong box in his cabin, Jason assigned various crew members to the tasks of buying supplies from the market, acquiring kegs of fresh water, searching out the sail-maker for canvas to replace one that had been torn too badly to repair in the storm, while others went in search of new stores of rope that had been washed overboard and oil for the lanterns.

It had taken most of the day, but the errands had been successfully performed and the men were just finishing the loading of the new stores, when there was a blast of horn followed by the steady beat of a drum and marching feet, clearly coming toward the dock. In moments, the already busy dock area was filled with a hundred Egyptian warriors, clad in short white tunics, armed as if for battle, gold and bronze helmets and shields glinting in the sun. In alarm, dockworkers scattered, making way for the royal guard.

Jason signaled his sailors to quickly finish up their work and get back on board the relative safety of the ship, while he and Hercules strode down the gangplank to see what was going on. The soldiers lined up silently along the dock next to the Argo, and behind them came Nubian slaves bearing a large litter, its sheer white curtains drawn, lavish gems along its ebony frame glittering in the sunlight.

The King and the demigod waited as the litter was settled onto the dock. "By all the gods, it's the King of Egypt, Busiris himself," Jason muttered having recognized the royal crest emblazoned on the front of the litter. "What in Tartarus is he doing here?"

Hercules cast a sidelong look at his friend as he stood with his arms by his side. "Coming to greet a fellow King who happened into port today?" he suggested, impatient with yet another delay.

"Maybe," Jason acknowledged, chewing thoughtfully on the inside of his lip. "Well, we won't find out standing here," he observed, leading the way forward toward the King's litter. As they approached, and paused at a discreet and respectful distance, the curtains parted and the God's Incarnation on Earth stepped out of it and turned to face them. He was a large man, burned bronze by the hot Egyptian sun, garbed in a simple, white skirt of pleated linen, a golden neck collar, his serpent crown and golden wrist bands. He wore the traditional long black wig of oiled wool, and his eyes could have been chips of obsidian.

Busiris paced regally toward them, and Jason, followed by Hercules, gave him a courteous bowing of the head, in acknowledgement of his precedence in his own land, if not his assumed role as the god incarnate.

The Egyptian's cold eyes flicked over them as he came close enough to speak. "I have been told that the King of Corinth has chosen to enter my land, with no herald…and no invitation."

Stepping forward, Jason replied, "I am Jason, King of Corinth, your Majesty. My ship was damaged by the storms over the past few days and we needed supplies. Yours was the closest port. I assure you, we meant no disrespect and are about to head back to sea. I had not meant to disturb you, or draw you here to the port. Indeed, I had not thought to find you here, this far north, or I would have sent word of our presence. Please accept my apologies for this inconvenience."

Busiris stared at Jason with a look of contempt. Hercules stiffened, not liking the atmosphere one bit, the hackles of his neck rising. Something wasn't right here…he could almost smell the hate.

Finally, the Egyptian spoke, "Clearly, you have displeased the gods, or the storms would not have driven you to this port. Having come, you may not now leave."

"What?" snapped the demigod, impatient with court formalities and frustrated by the delays, the implied threats. "What do you mean we can't leave?"

With evident irritation at the interruption by someone who looked like nothing so much as an overgrown, muscle-bound peasant, the King ignored him. Jason hastened to make the introductions. "Busiris, Lord of the Nile, Pharaoh of the Two Lands, this is Hercules…Son of Zeus."

Startled, Busiris turned to give Hercules more attention. "A Son of Zeus? Then, perhaps He will intervene to spare your life."

"Uh huh," Hercules grunted, his eyes narrowing. "Jason," he said then, pointedly ignoring the King's earlier words, "I think we should be on our way…now."

Holding up a hand, palm out, Busiris called back, "That is not possible. I have determined that all strangers to this land are to be sacrificed to the glory of Zeus." Without turning his head, or quitting Hercules' astonished glare, he snapped, "Take them!"

The soldiers immediately flew into action, charging the vessel tied to the dock, swarming up its gangplank, while arrows rained down upon them from the deck above, and sailors greeted the unwanted intruders with spears and swords. A King's crew are also warriors, and they, too, had felt the ominous atmosphere… having felt it, they had prepared for the attack.

Jason had stepped back and wheeled to return to Hercules' side, but one of the guards standing close to the King reached out and grabbed him, hauling him backward, off-balance. Hercules was tossing aside the three men who had come at him, while striding forward in a fury to liberate Jason.

But the demigod paused at the sight of the dagger at his friend's throat, held by one of Busiris' men.

"Release him!" Hercules thundered to Busiris, "and I might let you live."

"Surrender…and I might release him," Busiris responded coldly, seemingly oblivious to the chaos of the battle around them.

Jason took advantage of the distraction to sharply elbow his captor, loosening the grip on his arm, and he lunged to grab the arm that held the knife too close to his throat for comfort. While they grappled for the weapon, Hercules backhanded another warrior who had come at him, causing him to fly high over the dock and the milling soldiers.

Busiris grabbed a sword from one of his other guards and advanced on the demigod, unconvinced that any other being could possibly be related to the gods, believing Hercules to be a charlatan. Hercules hastily dropped to one knee to grab up the shield one of the soldiers he'd dealt with had dropped and swung it up to block the downward sweep of the King's blade, which clanged off the bronze. Rising, the demigod pushed toward Busiris, swinging the shield as if it were a weapon, using it to deflect one thrust and cut after another, keeping one eye on Jason to ensure his friend was holding his own.

But, they were outnumbered, badly, and needed to get back onto the ship. Shifting to put himself closer to Jason, staying between his friend and the sword-wielding King of Egypt, Hercules deflected the attack of another soldier who'd been charging Jason from behind, a powerful fist knocking the man senseless.

"Get back to the ship!" Hercules called to Jason.

"You think?" Jason shouted back, feeling a little harried. "What's the rush?"

Hercules threw him a look…and then a grin, as he turned his attention back to Busiris. "I don't want to kill you," the demigod cried, "back OFF!"

But Busiris could have been deaf for all the attention he gave Hercules' warning. He called to his men to come to him and like ants, they converged upon the battling Kings, boxing them in. Hercules grabbed one of them, and yelling to Jason to "Duck!" he swung the soldier up and around by the arms, whirling him about, clearing a wider space around them, enough that he and Jason could make a break for the ship…though they'd still need to fight their way back on board.

Jason had grabbed a sword from somewhere and was cutting and hacking his way through the Egyptian warriors on the gangplank, his men working their way down to meet him, trapping the soldiers between them, until the path was finally cleared.

Hercules, meanwhile, was still having to contend with Busiris, who was furious that his latest sacrifices seemed to be making a break for it. Well skilled, even gifted, with the sword, Busiris had done some damage, cutting one thin line along a muscular bicep and another across Hercules' chest, both wounds now streaming blood.

The demigod tried to reason with him, even in the midst of the battle. "Are you insane?" he cried. "Your men are being cut down…for what?"

"They will have their reward," Busiris jeered as he slashed again at the demigod. "The gods demand we honour them…all foreigners must die."

"Won't do much for trade relations between us!" Jason called back over his shoulder, as he made his way closer to the deck of his ship. "Come on, Hercules!"

"Right! Cut the ropes holding the ship to the dock!" Hercules called, edging backward. But, his foot caught in a coil of rope on the dock and he slipped, losing his balance, and then had to fling himself away from the cutting sweep of the sword. The demigod slammed onto the dock and rolled to get away from Busiris' questing blade, then swept out one long leg to trip the Egyptian King.

Busiris' feet were knocked out from under him, and the sword went flying as he twisted in the air, trying to land upright and failing, as he crashed onto the wooden planking. Furious, he whipped a dagger from the intricate lacings of his sandals and lunged toward the demigod.

Hercules grabbed his arm, arresting the downward plunge of the blade. "I've had just about enough of this!" shouted the demigod, simultaneously twisting the arm back toward his attacker, pushing the King away and rolling to regain his feet. But, Busiris had chosen to roll at the same time…and found himself impaled on his own blade, which had twisted under him.

Grabbing up the fallen sword as he stood over the body of the fallen King, Hercules quickly assessed their situation. More soldiers were converging upon him, shrieking in rage and fear at the sight of the dead Pharoah, lusting for revenge.

Hercules fought back, swinging his own weapon now with deadly intent, finally making his way back close to the Argo. One restraining rope remained, anchoring the ship to the dock. Yelling, the demigod whirled, entangling three other swords with his own, and with a flick of his wrist, disarming his attackers, as he continued his turn and brought his blade down upon the thick rope, slicing it cleanly with one blow. The Argo immediately began to slip away from the dock as he whirled again to face those still coming at him.

"Come on, Hercules!" Jason shouted from the rail above him.

"Good idea," muttered the demigod, as he traded arcing blows, deflecting the swords of his attackers. Feigning a forward attack, he drove them back a pace or two, then whirled, took two running steps and jumped, his powerful legs driving him up and forward toward the ship, reaching for the rail above and now several feet from the dock.

He almost made it, but he knew he was too far away. Resigning himself to an unscheduled bath in the mouth of the Nile, he still strained forward…and Jason clasped his out-flung wrist, holding on, then gripping with both hands as he hauled the demigod up and helped him over the rail.

The sailors were swarming over the deck and sails were hastily unfurled, oars already in the water to move them back and away with as much speed as possible. Arrows and spears still rained upon the deck from the dock below, but in moments, they'd separated far enough to be free of risk.

Standing at the rail, Jason and Hercules stared back at the carnage on the dock. "Fool," Jason muttered as he turned away. "A King was sacrificed today…just not the one Busiris envisioned."

* * *

Iolaus believed the diminishing supplies were probably a better indicator of the passing of time than were the notches he diligently carved on the torch. He figured one sack equated to about a week of time passing, basing that assumption on the assessment he'd made when he and Hercules had first inventoried what his friend had brought. Gods, it had only been two weeks since Hercules had been pulled away, if his assessment was true…it had felt like forever.

When the time came to broach the third sack, his hands were trembling uncontrollably from the stress of what he was suffering. In an effort to make the food and water last, Iolaus ate and drank only sparingly, denying himself all but the merest sustenance, so that he was, in fact, starving himself and growing weaker with each passing day. He found himself growing a little breathless with the exercising, weary long before he should have been by the light activity. To keep his mind occupied, he'd tried to build mud castles, shaping the cold glop into turrets and bastions, digging out moats and defensive embankments…but nothing would hold its shape, sagging and oozing back into lumpy muck. He tried shoving it up to build a stool to sit on, but when he tried it, it splattered away beneath his weight, leaving him sprawled and cursing, giggling with a sense of the ridiculous…and weary with the aching boredom of it all.

Disorientation began to plague him, and he mumbled to himself unconsciously, shivering in the darkness, aching to hear another voice. Sometimes, in his need, he'd imagine he'd heard a voice, and he'd call out, hopefully…at other times, he'd sense something stalking him, and he'd prepare to do battle, waiting for an attack that never came.

"I'm a warrior!" he cried out to the emptiness. "Let me fight!" Death in battle, quick and clean, was something he came to long for, but in despair knew was denied to him. He was condemned to endure, to patiently wait for death to find him.

It wasn't his nature to wait, to be patient. The hours dragged by, unchanging, heavy and bleak, cold and dark, endlessly the same, endlessly empty and silent but for the sound of his own increasingly raspy voice.

Nothingness.

Eternal nothingness.

No light.

No stars to dapple the night sky or clouds scudding across the mystical full moon. No wind in the trees, or the ripple of water in a sparkling, rushing stream, no lap of surf on a hot sand beach or crash of waves against stark, black rocks tumbled from a precipice. No snow-covered mountain peaks rising majestically against the clear azure sky, no waterfalls or rivers.

No warmth from a companionable campfire, no laughter.

No fragrances, of blossoms pink and bursting with life in the trees, no flowers scattered across a rolling meadow of emerald grass or under twisted and ancient olive trees, silvery green against the tall imposing dark rich green of the cypress. No tangy scent of orange or lemon, no sweet lavender or sandalwood…no clean, heady scent of a woman.

No touch, except his own chilled hands, grubby with mud, no hot questing lips in this darkness, no gentle caresses, no embraces of love.

No taste of fresh bread, still hot from the ovens, dripping with newly churned butter. No sweetness of jams or jellies, or the succulent goodness of meat from the fire.

No children giggling with mischief, no dancing or singing or the merriment of a festival in full swing. No bards to enchant with magical stories…no new stories, only the ones he'd been telling himself over and over and over of deeds already done.

No monsters to fight, or vicious warlords to defeat, no bandits or bullies to better.

No risk, no adventure, no tranquility…no joy.

Nothing. Nothing but darkness and cold mud and time that droned eternally on.

Mindless. Dull. Pointless. Useless.

And, oh so achingly lonely.

It was driving him crazy…not mad, not cuckoo-land nuts, but wretched and restless, irritable and frustrated so that he cursed his fate with increasing vigor and fury. Gods, he hated this! Hated the inactivity and futility. Hated the helplessness and the sense of being used, brutally and carelessly, with casual cruelty. Hated that the whole of this torment was not the end of it, but only the beginning…for himself and for Hercules, because it would never end, not for either of them. For Hercules, it would mean an eternity of grief and guilt, hopeless anger and loss…and he'd been here, dammit. Herc knew and would be able to imagine the horror of it, would know everything his best friend was suffering alone through all of a cold, eternal night. And, it would drive him mad.

'Oh, gods, Hercules,' Iolaus whispered into the darkness, his head in his hands, knees drawn tight against his chest. 'Oh gods, I'm so sorry…gods, I hope you can forget…'

A furious anger bubbled in his chest, and his fists clenched, aching to beat Hera into submission, aching to wreak havoc and destroy the gloating evil which had led to this. His breathing quickened, and he gritted his teeth, trying to contain the rage that consumed him, knowing it was useless. But, he trembled with hate and suddenly, he found himself on his feet, his fists raised high over his head, screaming into the darkness.

"I HATE YOU! DO YOU HEAR ME? I HATE YOU WITH EVERY BREATH IN MY BODY, WITH EVERYTHING THAT I AM! I WILL HATE YOU FOR ALL OF FOREVER, AND CURSE YOU, EVERY SINGLE ENDLESS MOMENT OF ETERNITY!" Taking a breath, his arms falling rigid to his sides, he stared into the black emptiness, the fire of his hate burning hot, coursing through his mind and body. "I hate what you've done to him, all his life…out of pitiful jealousy and meanness of spirit. There is no decency in you. Not a shred, not a spark of compassion or kindness or love. You're only about destruction, and pain. Damn you, Hera, for what you did to his family. Damn you for the torment you put him through. And, damn you for what you've done to me! I had a life! It meant something. I helped people, dammit. I did good things, decent things. And I loved my life."

His voice dropped, almost to a murmur, as the feelings of what his life had been swept over him. "I loved even the simplest of things…tickling a little kid to hear them giggle. My kid. My wife. I loved her sweetness…and I loved how much she loved me. How she made me feel. Like I was someone good, who deserved that kind of love and gentleness. I loved just sitting beside a quiet stream, in the hot sun. I loved the coolness of the shadows in the deep forest…and watching a stag run free, bounding across a meadow. And, most of all, you bitch, I loved helping Hercules do everything in our power to defeat what you stand for. I loved taking down the bad guys, making them pay for the terrible things they'd done. I loved destroying the monsters you sent to torment and terrorize innocent people."

The magnitude of it, the loss of everything that had ever had meaning for him, fanned the rage again and he cried out with aching, hopeless fury, "I loved all of it! ALL OF IT! And you took it away from me…took everything I ever was and made it nothing. How can anyone, anything, be so…vicious, so cunning in your cruelty, so tireless in your quest for the twisting ugly thing you call justice. I LOATHE YOU! I hope that your ugliness, your gluttonous need for supremacy twists upon itself, turns on you and eats you like an acid, slowly with eternal agony. I hope that everything you value turns to dust, that your powers desert you, and that you find yourself as alone and as helpless, as pitiful and wretched as you've left me."

Again the rage surged through him, and he shook a fist into the emptiness as he cried, "I hate you! I will always hate you! There are no words, you will never grasp, never understand, the power of my hatred for you! Damn you to all the horrors of Tartarus! Damn you for the pain you heap on my friend's heart. Damn you for taking my life! I want it back! Do you hear me? HERA! I WANT MY LIFE BACK!"

He was unaware of the tears that streaked his face, or of the sob in his throat. He needed, wanted, had to act. Couldn't just stand there, consumed with bitterness and rage. It would destroy him, he knew it, faster than the cold, more relentlessly than the darkness. Fired by the energy of his hate, and the irresistible urge to do something, anything, to move and feel his muscles resist, fight back, he erupted into a frenzy of action. Striking out at invisible enemies, kicking and dancing through the darkness as if surrounded by countless foes, bending and whirling, imagining the impact of his actions, thrusting out his fists, cutting back with sharp elbows, blocking blows that never came. He leapt and twisted, dropped and rolled, swept out his leg to trip an enemy larger than himself, to bring it down into the dirt with him. He fought until his body ran with sweat, battled until his arms grew heavy and his legs trembled with the exertion. Fought until the breath came hard, his chest heaving with the effort. Fought with grim determination, desperate to prevail, to survive. Fought until finally, he could fight no more and he dropped, panting and exhausted, to lie sprawled on his back in the mud. Weeping with his weakness, furious that his body had given out, wanting to keep on, battling, for his life…for his sanity.

"Oh gods," he wheezed, "I can't stand this…I can't do this…."

But his words changed nothing. The silent darkness mocked him, scorning his frenzied activity, indifferent to his fury, facing him with the reality of his existence, the boring endless empty eternal nothingness of his life…and his eventual death. The cold mud chilled his over-heated body until he began to shiver, forcing him to grope his way back to his pathetic campsite, to find a mud-encrusted blanket to pull around his shoulders. He sat hunched in the mud, his fingers tangled in his hair, elbows on his knees, aching with the utter futility of everything…his hate and anger, his loneliness, the boredom with the lack of stimulation for either mind or body, his helplessness and growing despair. There was nothing, nothing that he could do or say, think or feel, that would change any of this. He could hate Hera, but that didn't change his reality…it just was, and somehow, he had to find a way to deal with it, or he really would go mad.

It was at that point, that crucible of spiritual torment, when he suddenly realized his battle was with himself even more than it was with the darkness, or Hera, or even the inevitability of encroaching death.

'Another of life's lessons,' he thought with weary and grim irony, but at least it was something for his mind to grapple with. Grateful to have found a new subject to occupy his thoughts, he debated the lessons of life in his mind, the value of patience over impulsiveness, of endurance over spontaneity… the strength which could be hard won from this different kind of battle.

The different kind of courage it required.

He thought, ruefully, there were some lessons he could cheerfully have lived his whole life without learning. "Well, Herc," he murmured into the silence, "maybe one good thing has come from all this… maybe I'm learning how to restrain my impatience, learning how to endure rather than react. Do you think?"

He chuckled mirthlessly to himself as he stared into the dark. Somehow, he didn't think this was quite the lesson Hercules had had in mind for him. "Life's just full of little surprises, isn't it?" he muttered, then. "I just hope I live long enough to use all this newfound wisdom…."

It was about survival, after all, of the mind and spirit even when all seemed lost, when the battles seemed futile. Sometimes, when fighting was useless, one could only endure, but that had its own meaning, its own worth. Survival. One way or another, Hera was not going to destroy all that he was. Even if he was reduced to being a lost soul in this place out of time, he'd survive…something of who and what he had always been would continue for eternity. Shaking his head at his earlier stupidity of having exhausted energy he couldn't afford to spare, he figured he wouldn't consign himself any faster than necessary to the spiritual realm. Feeling the ever present gnawing and cramp of hunger, he fumbled in the darkness for the sack of food, rifling in it until he found a small piece of hard cheese. Chewing on a morsel, he told himself he'd be as brave as he could be, that he wouldn't let Herc down by going crazy…that he'd endure for as long as it took.

Taking a swig of water, he only hoped that 'for as long as it took' wouldn't turn out to be forever.

* * *

Hercules had been beyond desperate by the time they finally tracked down Nereus, too conscious of the days and weeks passing, wound tighter than a spring from the tension of the search. Gods, it had been almost three weeks…Iolaus couldn't last much longer. So, by the time they did find Nereus off the coast of Libya, he had precious little patience left.

"Tell me where to find the Garden," the demigod demanded for the third time, frustration and anger thick in his voice, blazing from his eyes.

The slight, pale god with the sapphire eyes and gills along the sides of his throat yawned with boredom. "Hercules, I have already explained to you twice that the location of the Garden has been a secret for eons and I'm not about to give it up now. What part of that don't you understand?"

"And I've told you that Hera has sent me to get one of her gold apples, and that I'm in a hurry. Haven't you heard from Poseidon that my mission is related to the security of the gods? You have no choice…you have to give me the location!" Hercules raged, almost spluttering with irritation.

Jason was watching from the rail of the deck, the ship having anchored near the rocks where Nereus was sunning to allow Hercules to drop down for the conversation. It wasn't going well. Looking up at the gulls wheeling overhead, Jason began a slow count under his breath. If his assessment of Hercules' mood was accurate, he wouldn't reach '10'.

"The problems of Olympus are not my concern," Nereus replied haughtily. One of the 'lesser gods', he had little use for the pompous beings on the Mount and correctly assumed that any threat to them was unlikely to touch him in any significant way.

Hercules cast a look of exasperation up at his friend, took a deep breath, then reached out and grabbed the sea-god by the throat, throttling him slowly so that he'd have time to reconsider his position. "No? Well, those problems just became your concern. If you don't give me what I want, and I mean NOW, you can die with your precious secret untold. What part of that don't YOU understand?"

Nereus gaped at Hercules as his webbed hands came up to pull at the demigod's fingers, but he might as well have tried to stop the tide. Furious at being manhandled, the sea-god went through a number of rapid transformations in an attempt to startle if not terrify the demigod and to break his relentless grip. Hercules found himself wrestling with a giant squid one moment, a shark the next, followed by the diaphanous shifting shape of a jellyfish, a slippery, monstrous eel and finally a muscular dolphin before Nereus finally returned to his own form, now a decided blue colour, as his mouth gaped for air and his gills quivered ineffectually. Beating his fists weakly against the demigod's chest, he choked out, "All right…you win!"

Loosening his grip, but not yet completely releasing the sea-god, Hercules waited, his face set in grim lines. He hated torturing any creature and he'd have given up before he'd actually killed Nereus, but the sea-god didn't need to know that…not yet anyway. Gasping for breath, Nereus managed to mutter the directions, sagging with relief when Hercules finally let him go. Standing tall above the defeated creature, Hercules said with quiet threat, "Don't think you can get away with hampering the journey of this vessel. If you try to sink the ship, I will call Poseidon down upon you. You might not care what happens to the gods of Olympus, but he is one of the ruling elite…and I'll let him deal with you next time."

"Fine," sobbed Nereus, overcome and humiliated, "go where you must. I hope the dragon eats you."

Hercules turned away without another word and climbed the rope ladder back up to the deck where Jason gave him a hand up over the rail. "Hoist the sails!" the King called as the anchor was dragged back on board, and the ship quickly moved off from the rocks, heading back into the open sea.

* * *

As the fourth week unfolded, Iolaus tried to hold to the hope that Hercules would find a way to save him, but his mind was wandering more and more, and he knew he was beginning to hallucinate. He didn't mind that so much…it was a break from an unendurable reality. But, it signaled that he was beginning to lose control, beginning to lose himself in the far reaches of his mind. As his energy waned, his capacity to resist the terrors of being trapped and alone in this ever-lasting night could no longer be held at bay. The darkness pressed in on him like a physical thing, suffocating him, crushing him, so that he found himself screaming and thrashing against it, terrified until exhaustion overwhelmed him…and then he'd come back to himself, ashamed of his weakness, glad there was no one to see it. The hysteria itself terrified him…it seemed to come from nowhere to engulf him, drowning his senses with horror, driving out all other thought and emotion. He couldn't seem to control it anymore, couldn't stave it off. Gods, he was losing his mind. If Herc didn't get him back soon, all that would be left would be an empty shell.

He wondered why he tried so hard to stay alive when all it amounted to was pain and fear. It wasn't worth it…and he could end it so easily. Who'd know or care? Herc wasn't ever going to get him back…that was just a wishful fantasy. Time to face facts…he was a dead man anyway, so why put off the inevitable, when it could be done so quickly. He reached for his sword, which he'd kept close beside him though there'd never been a need for it in this empty wasteland. Maybe he'd known this moment would come and he'd want it handy. Even in his despair, he couldn't have brought himself to use the knife in the sheath in his boot…not the knife he and Hercules had forged together. Gripping the sword's hilt, he tried to stop trembling, tried to tell himself it was the only sensible action he had left. That death was better than the terror…anything was better than the terror.

He lifted the blade to his throat, laying the cold metal against his skin. One move…that's all it would take. Just a quick flick of his wrist.

He took a deep breath and…

…threw the weapon away with all the strength he had left.

That wasn't the answer. He couldn't do it. "Too much a coward to kill yourself, right?" he condemned himself, mocking himself viciously as a 'gutless wonder'. Whatever. He loved life too much, even here in this hopeless void…and, he'd made a promise when he'd still had the strength to believe he could keep it. Being tired, and discouraged…and afraid, weren't good enough reasons to recant. His word was all he had…even here, even alone, it had to mean something.

He clung to the vow he'd made when his hope faded into ashes as if it were a shield, holding it up against the darkness, embracing it for stability and security when the hysteria swamped his reason. He'd promised Hercules…he'd promised himself that he would not give up, would not let Hera beat him, though she might kill him. Even if no one else ever knew the costs of this battle, if they never saw the invisible wounds or the pain of the anguish he forced himself to endure every single moment, it didn't matter…this was his fight, and he would win. Death would not find him a screaming bundle of trembling, terrified, mindless flesh and bone…he'd die, but on his terms. With courage, and dignity.

With grim determination, he fought the terror, the hysteria, beating it back, refusing to be beaten by it. He had to learn how to live with the darkness forever…because, even after he died, he knew now he'd be stuck here in the eternal night. The thought of it made his skin crawl, made his breath catch in his throat and he gagged, choking on the horror of it.

"Take a deep breath, Iolaus," he told himself. "You have to deal with this now…it's not going to change, not ever. You can't go on being terrified of the dark as if you were some little kid. That's what it's about, isn't it. Being afraid, like you were…like that little three year old kid was when the roof of the cellar caved in on you, trapping you in the dark. You thought you were going to die…you couldn't breathe and you couldn't move. You'd never felt so helpless. But, you didn't die! Your dad pulled you out…saved you that time. It's just fear…it's not real. Not real."

He found he'd tensed up as he'd talked to himself…discovered he'd been holding his breath, fighting the irrational terror. "Breathe, dammit!" he ordered himself. "Now, breathe again, and relax. There's nothing out there…well, yeah, I know death is lurking out there. But, it's always been there. You're mortal. From the moment you were born, you were destined to die. So get over it, already! It's not the dark, is it? It's death you're really afraid of…yeah…that's it, isn't it?"

Iolaus paused, his thoughts almost frozen by that unexpected insight…he'd gambled with death so often, he'd not realized until now that he'd never really accepted that any of those gambles might fail. "For all your supposed courage, all the times you've jumped into things without a second thought, you're actually afraid to die. Some brave hero you're turning out to be. Afraid of the dark and scared to die." Sigh.

"Well, look at this way," he consoled himself matter-of-factly, "Death will be better than what you've got now. You won't be hungry for one thing…or cold. Otherwise, it won't be a whole lot different, more's the pity."

He thought about that for a long time…that death wasn't something to fear, but maybe even something to welcome, not in desperation or terror, but with a kind of peace. Taking a deep breath, he wasn't sure he could really believe that, but the thought held the only comfort he was ever likely to know in this place. Oddly enough, he didn't feel as afraid as he had…and for now, at least, he knew he could keep going, keep enduring.

Besides, he'd made a promise.

He'd keep it.

It wasn't in him to give up.

He didn't know how.

* * *

It had taken another long four days to reach the coast nearest the Garden. Jason had forced Hercules to rest, at one point lightly drugging his ale to make the demigod sleep. Hercules, when he finally woke, was furious but Jason remained unrepentant. "You have yet to face a dragon, Hercules! You won't do yourself, or Iolaus for that matter, any good whatsoever if you carry on with no rest. Now, I've had soup ordered from the galley…and you're going to eat it if I have to feed it to you myself!"

Hercules was anxious to the point of panic but was no fool. In the face of Jason's cold good sense, he blew out a long breath and forced himself to reach for calm. "I'm sorry, Jason…I guess it's just getting away from me. I don't know how much longer Iolaus can last…I'm scared that I'll be too late."

"I know that, Hercules…and I understand," Jason sighed, putting an arm around his friend's shoulders. "There's time yet…you'll make it."

Hercules pressed his eyes closed, pushed restless fingers through his hair, and hoped with all his heart that Jason was right.

When they'd finally anchored, Hercules and Jason went alone to the Garden, unwilling to risk sharing its location with any of the others. The golden apples grew on the Tree of Life and once eaten, granted immortality. It would have been too great a temptation to have the knowledge of its location and not try to acquire one of the apples. Immortality was a dangerous gift, one that could bring as much pain as satisfaction if not more, and neither Jason nor Hercules wished to have any of the King's loyal followers tempted beyond their capacity to resist.

It took three hours to reach the sacred grounds. The garden was beautiful, soft rolling hills of an emerald green, with wildflowers growing in careless abandon under the ancient boughs of olive, oak and linden trees that rustled quietly in the light breeze. The air was perfumed with the scents of the flowers and the men could hear the low hum of bees and the songs of birds perched unseen in the boughs overhead. There was a quiet, a stillness, that brought a sense of calm and peace, a kind of magic which caused them unconsciously to relax more than they had in weeks.

Moving ever closer to the centre of the sacred garden, the intruders kept watch for any sign of the three daughters of Night who dwelled here, but perhaps they did not appear in the daylight. Of more concern was Ladon, the dragon who guarded the Tree of Life. Once they spotted him, they'd know they'd reached their destination.

Moving cautiously, they headed over yet another rise, then froze and dropped soundlessly to the ground. Not fifty yards ahead, the huge scarlet dragon slept, curled around the base of a truly massive tree. "Guess we found the right place," muttered Jason.

"Uh huh," agreed Hercules as he poked his head up over the rise to better assess their options. Lowering himself again beside his friend, Hercules gazed at him for a moment with a speculative and almost apologetic look.

"What?" asked the King, not liking the look in Hercules' eyes.

"Uh, well…I was just thinking how you said you don't move as fast as you used to," Hercules replied with a slight frown.

"Oh," intoned the King, rolling his eyes. "You want me to distract the beast, don't you?"

"If you would, yes," Hercules replied with an engaging grin. "While he's chasing you, I can race to the tree, snag an apple and then come to your rescue…uh, if you need rescuing, that is."

Jason couldn't help his reaction…and hastily raised a hand to his lips to smother the sound of his snickering.

"What?" asked Hercules, surprised, not having noticed anything all that amusing about the situation.

"I have a whole troupe of elite guards back at the palace, not to mention a ship full of sailors, who'd have a fit if they heard your idea!" Jason grinned, suddenly feeling younger and somehow free. "I can scarcely take a breath without one of them worrying about the air being safe for me…and you blithely ask me to play tag with a dragon!"

"So…is that a yes?" Hercules asked, wanting to get on with it.

"Hell, yes," Jason affirmed. "I haven't had this much fun in years! Let's do it!"

The two men rose into crouched positions, one going right and the other left as they circled around the low hill. Jason picked up a rock as he made his way toward the dragon and, when he was in position, he threw it with unerring accuracy, hitting the beast soundly on the nose, waking it with a roar. "Hey, Sweetheart! Want to dance?" the King called out, as he pulled out his sword and waved his arms to attract the monster's attention.

Ladon lurched to his feet, claws extending from his huge paws while his wings unfurled. Rearing back, his great snout opened to reveal very impressive fangs, and then he was blasting fire toward the brazen little creature who had dared to trespass in his garden.

Jason threw himself out of the way of the blast, then scrambled hurriedly to his feet, jumping up and down as he yelled insults at the beast, then turned to dash away amongst the other trees. Ladon, furious with the taunting, sprang after him, leaving the Tree of Life unguarded.

Hercules raced silently to the base of the tree, and leaping up, caught the lowest limb to haul himself upward. He raked the branches with his eyes, hastily searching for the golden apples and finally spotted one several yards above. Quickly, he climbed the limbs growing from the trunk of the tree, then reached up as far as he could to snag the apple by his fingertips. Pulling it carefully, it fell into his hand. Stashing the treasure in his shirt, he climbed back closer to the ground then jumped down, looking around to see how Jason was doing.

The King had been holding his own, using the trees that were scattered in a loose grove as shields from the blasts of flame and circling around them to foil the dragon's efforts to trap him. But, the almost fifteen years since the Academy had worn him down a little, his reflexes slower, his joints stiffer and the breath hard in his chest. As he lunged away from yet another attack, his boot slipped on a stone unseen in the grass and his ankle twisted, bringing him crashing to the ground, sword flying from his grip. Without conscious thought, he rolled hard to the right, which saved him from being sizzled, but left him tight against the trunk of a tree with nowhere to go and his sword out of reach. Lifting his head, he saw Ladon bearing down upon him, emerald eyes twirling in anticipation of a tasty meal.

"Hercules!" Jason shouted, just as his friend turned to see how he was managing.

"Coming!" the demigod yelled as he launched himself toward the mighty dragon, his feet scarcely touching the ground as he flew across it, knowing Jason only had moments.

Ladon raised a massive paw, intending to crush the still squirming intruder before devouring him…live food tended to tickle his throat on the way down, not a pleasant sensation. Just as he was lunging in for the kill, the dragon felt something pull his tail, dragging him backward. With a roar, the beast turned to face his latest harasser, whipping his tail sharply to free himself.

Hercules held on tightly and flew through the air as the tail came up and back, only loosening his grip when he was in position to drop onto the dragon's back between his unfurled wings. Scrambling up the scaly surface, the demigod headed toward the dragon's long, sinuous neck, the only vulnerable spot he'd seen on the raging beast. Infuriated, the dragon took to the air, twisting and turning, finally looping upside down, to shake off his unwanted hitchhiker. Hercules grabbed onto the base of one leathery wing, dangling as he held on for dear life while Jason watched wide-eyed from the ground, until he came to his senses and ran to grab up his sword.

Coming back to earth, landing so hard it made Hercules' teeth rattle, Ladon reached back to try to snag the intrepid demigod with his fangs, but Hercules dodged quickly and scrambled up the dragon's neck, high near the head, where the neck was narrow enough for the demigod to reach around it with his arms. Grabbing hold, he locked the fingers of one hand around a wrist and squeezed as tightly as he could, muscles bulging with the effort, his face reddened by the strain.

Frightened by the sensation of being strangled, Ladon bobbed his head wildly, then reached up and back with one foot, trying to rake his assailant with his vicious claws.

"Hercules! Look out!" cried Jason in warning, just in time for Hercules to look up and swing himself as far to the side as he could manage. The tip of one claw still managed to rake his back, slicing through his vest and shirt, cutting him badly, but still he held on. There was no choice…if he let go now, the dragon could well kill them both. He squeezed and squeezed while the dragon spun and wheezed out a terrible roar of fury and fear. Jason had to dodge away from the blindly stamping feet of the beast, all the while thrusting his sword into the creature but being frustrated by its impenetrable hide, as it fought with all it had, until finally, the head plunged to the ground, the dragon's body shuddering in his final death throes as Hercules ploughed into the earth, stunned.

Jason hastened to his friend's side and grabbed him under the arms, dragging him away from the still thrashing beast. Once they were far enough away for safety, Jason eased Hercules to the ground, on his side, to give him access to the wound in his friend's back. It was ugly, and deep, crimson blood pouring from the torn flesh. Hastily, Jason ripped his own shirt from his back and pressed it against the wound to stop the bleeding. "Damn it, Hercules," he muttered, "you were supposed to save me, not get yourself half-killed. Or did you forget?"

The demigod groaned as he regained consciousness, then stiffened against the pain. "How bad is it?" he gasped.

"Bad enough," Jason retorted. "Here, let me help you sit up. You're going to have to pull off your shirt so that we can use it to bind mine to your back."

With Jason's help, Hercules' wound received the rough field-basic treatment he needed to keep going. They had to get back to the ship before anyone noticed their intrusion and found the dead dragon. While they didn't know for sure, they had to assume the keepers of this garden would have other measures to use, other defenses to call upon, to capture or kill them if they didn't get away soon.

Jason supported Hercules, one arm around the demigod's back to keep pressure on the worst of the wound, and hobbled on his sore ankle, as they made their way back to the Argo. It was almost dusk when they reached the coast, four hours after they'd left the sacred garden…but, they'd made it and the sailors hauled the anchor to head directly back to sea.

Hercules lasted just long enough to see that they were on the way home, and then he collapsed from loss of blood. Jason's medic cleaned up the wound and stitched it, powdering it with herbs, and binding it securely while the demigod was unconscious. Only then would Jason allow the healer to bind his injured and swollen ankle.

The wind picked up as night fell, filling the sails, helping them on their way back to Greece.

* * *

Sitting in the dark, Iolaus counted the slashes he'd made before he lit the last torch, sliding his thumb down over the notches, but he kept getting distracted, his thoughts slipping away on their own tangent, making him lose his place. So, wearily, patiently, he'd start over again, and again. When he finally got to the end, he couldn't believe the result and began all over again. To get the same answer. According to the number of notches, he'd been alone now for a month, not the three weeks or so he'd assumed from the last dwindling sack of food that he kept close to his body. He'd stretched out his supplies for far longer than he'd thought would have been possible but he was finally reaching the end of his stores.

Shrugging, he set the issue of how much time had passed aside. Three weeks, a month, what did it matter? Once the torch was lit, he rummaged weakly through the last pack, finding bread and cheese moldy from the damp of the mud, apples that had gone rotten, but he knew he'd force himself to eat what was there anyway. 'Beggars can't be choosy,' he thought with grim whimsy. Digging deeper, he found the last waterskin and slung it over his shoulder as he coolly calculated that enough food and water remained for, what, three days…maybe four? And, then, how long could he last? Normally, up to a week…but already starved and dehydrated? Not that long…another two or three days at most.

And then his battle, for life at least, would be over. After that, what? Still the darkness, the silence…the aching loneliness. He'd been working hard to retain his sanity so long as he lived, to remain aware of what was real and what wasn't. But, would remaining sane matter any more once he was dead? Or could he finally allow himself the release of slipping into his memories, losing himself in the times he'd spent with Hercules? So long as he could do that, feel the everlasting warmth of their friendship, then he wouldn't ever really be alone….

Sighing, he scratched at skin made itchy by the filth of mud he'd managed to get all over himself. For the first time, he'd decided to skip even the pretence of exercising, no longer having the energy…no longer really believing it mattered a damn.

Over the weeks, he'd played with different ideas about what Hercules would have done when they'd pulled him back to his life. Iolaus had amused himself imagining Herc confronting Zeus, demanding his help, though the hunter actually hated the idea of Herc having to ask the gods for anything on his behalf. He pictured confrontations with Hera, but shrugged them off, knowing Herc couldn't really win that way. As time had dragged on, he'd imagined Hercules trying to adjust without him, but shied away from those images because he could too easily imagine his friend's pain.

"So, Herc…what's taking you so long, buddy?" he asked the darkness, as if his friend was nearby and could answer. "Gods, you haven't gotten yourself into trouble have you? If I find out you've gotten yourself killed trying to save me, I'll whup your demigodly ass if I ever get out of here." That was his greatest and most enduring fear…that Hercules would be hurt or killed trying to find a way to help him out of this mess.

Finally, he decided that he shouldn't think about what Herc was up to anymore…it was just too terrible to contemplate, too easy to imagine that something had gone wrong. Why else would it be taking so long? If Herc was going to be able to get him back, it should have happened by now, right? And, since he wouldn't have stopped trying unless…. 'Don't go there, Iolaus,' he thought, shivering. 'Just don't go there. Herc's okay…he has to be okay.'

Curling himself into the filthy, damp blankets, he sagged back into the mud. "Come on, Herc," he whispered hoarsely, "I'm running out of time…."

The last torch flickered and went out.

* * *

The wind didn't last. Before dawn, it had died away and Jason had called to his crew to haul out the oars. As fifty men hauled in unison, they made progress, but it was slow. By the time Hercules woke, the sun had begun to climb in the sky and the heat of the day was already building, reflecting back from the quiet sea, baking the men in the hold.

"How are you feeling?" Jason asked, handing his friend a mug of tepid water.

"Stiff," replied Hercules, wincing as he tentatively stretched his back.

"Don't do that!" exclaimed the King, "You'll pull out the stitches."

"Stitches?" the demigod repeated. "What stitches?"

"The ones Matellus put in your back last night to close the wound. It was deep, Hercules, and long. It's going to take a while to heal," Jason advised him, concern in his eyes. The healer had checked the wound early that morning and it didn't seem to be infected, but the King wouldn't relax about it until he knew it was well and truly healing.

Hercules nodded at the explanation, uncaring of his own injury, and swallowed the water as he looked up toward the limp sails. "When did the wind die?"

"In the night, just before dawn…we're pressing ahead as fast as we can…if I drive the men any harder in this heat, they'll collapse," Jason replied, forestalling any complaint Hercules might have about their lack of speed.

"I know, Jason," his friend replied, understanding…but unable to quell the shaft of the now ever-present panic that rose in his gut, only able to master it with his dogged, determined belief that Iolaus would hold on, would find a way to survive even in that hellish void. But, deep down, he knew this whole journey was taking far too long, longer than he'd calculated his buddy could last, and that terrified him. It would be close to a week before they'd make it back to Corinth, even with the wind. Gods, couldn't they get a single break?

* * *

As the fifth week dragged on, Iolaus whispered ceaselessly to himself, "Promised Hercules…promised I'd hold on…promised…have to hold on…." Until he wasn't really aware of the words. But, the whispering gave him something to focus upon, let him know he was still alive and not yet lost in the darkness…not yet….

The food ran out before the water did, but the dregs in the last waterskin only lasted another day. He'd gone long past feeling the cramps of hunger, but the thirst tormented him until in desperation, he sucked on a blob of mud, to draw moisture from it. The taste was foul, disgusting, but he endured. The last torch had burned up long before, days, a week, he had no way of knowing. No sound, no light, and only the touch of the cold mud to let him know he was still alive, still able to feel something. Giggling, he reflected that he'd know he'd died when he couldn't feel the mud anymore…the darkness and silence would be unchanged.

Startled by the sound of his own giggle, Iolaus told himself he was losing it and had better get a grip. Sighing, he focused on Hercules, gave up trying to imagine what his friend was doing at that moment, and contented himself with remembering some of their finer moments. But, there was an insidious danger lurking in that activity, the colours and satisfaction of his memories far more enticing than the reality of the dark and the freezing mud.

It was some time before he realized that he was drifting away from reality, and once again, he pulled himself back, staring into the darkness, shivering in the cold. Gods, when had he last been warm? Would he ever be warm again? Would this never-ending chill also pervade his soul?

* * *

The wind had abandoned them for four long days and nights. Their progress was painfully slow and Hercules debated putting into shore, to race on foot back to Greece, but Jason argued him out of it. "Your back hasn't fully healed yet, you're still weakened from loss of blood and frankly, the distances are so great that as slow as we're moving, our route is still the most direct, the quickest, back to Corinth. I'm sorry, Hercules, I know you feel the pressure of time…but, this is as fast as you're going to be able to go until the wind picks up again."

The demigod nodded, his eyes locked on the eastern horizon, his thoughts far away in a dark, cold, muddy void. There'd been enough food and water for the two of them for a good two weeks. Iolaus wasn't a fool…he'd have stretched all he had for as long as he could. But, it had been more than a month now and he couldn't have much left, if anything. And, it wasn't just the question of nourishment. There was the dark, the cold…and he had to be afraid. Even Iolaus couldn't face that horror, day after day, believing he was likely to die in the end anyway, without feeling fear. Gods, if only there'd been some way of letting him know that he wasn't condemned to that existence forever…the certainty of rescue would have fired his determination and energy, making him undefeatable…but, now? As things were? When he didn't know? Would he hold on or would it just be too hard, too much to bear?

Hercules' fingers curled over the rail, gripping it until his knuckles were white, as if by holding the rail so firmly he could hold onto Iolaus' life. He couldn't talk about his fear, even to Jason. Couldn't admit how hard it was getting to still believe Iolaus was hanging on, was still there in that horrible void, surrounded by the dark. He had to have run out of food and water before now…there just hadn't been enough to last this long, even if he practically starved himself. Gods…could Iolaus just have ceased to exist without him knowing it, alone and lost in nothingness? Wouldn't he know it? Feel it? Wouldn't someone…Hades, Hera…someone have told him it was over…too late? He had to believe Iolaus was still waiting for him to come back, to have found a way to save him from that eternal hell. Shuddering, Hercules swallowed hard, blinking away the moisture that burned in his eyes. If he believed, if he didn't give up, Iolaus would make it. He had to tell himself that. Had to hold onto that conviction. His buddy wouldn't give up. Wasn't dead. Was still waiting.

Gods…to be alone in that void for so many weeks? What would that do to a man? Could Iolaus have retained his sanity even if he had managed to hold onto life? Could anyone be that strong? For that long? Hercules bit his lip and looked up into the sky. 'Hold on, buddy,' he called to Iolaus from the depths of his soul. 'Gods…don't give up. Please, Iolaus, hold on.'

But, his fear wouldn't let go, kept chasing his thoughts 'round and 'round. He kept remembering the void, kept counting the days, the weeks, so afraid that…the rail snapped in his hand, crushed by the unconscious pressure he'd exerted upon it. Tears glistened in his eyes, but he fought them. He would not give up! Iolaus was still there, waiting…Iolaus….

Jason watched his friend with growing concern. Hercules had been desperate when he'd arrived at the castle weeks ago, and since then he'd grown increasingly haunted, until it was clear he could think of nothing but his friend, Iolaus. When the rail had snapped, Hercules hadn't even seemed aware of it, standing there like a statue, so tense he looked brittle, as if he, too, could snap at any moment. The King was genuinely afraid for his friend's sanity. If it turned out it had taken them too long, that they were too late, he was afraid the demigod might go mad with fury and grief. Gods knew, there was a look in his eyes sometimes that suggested he already had.

Jason knew Hercules was trying to hold it all inside…nothing new about that. But, this was too much. He needed to talk about it, release some of that tension before it overwhelmed even his inhuman control. Moving up beside his friend, Jason asked quietly, "Would you tell me about him?"

Distracted, Hercules asked, "What?"

"Iolaus…would you tell me about him. I wish I could remember him, but I can't," Jason repeated, his eyes and voice sorrowful.

Hercules turned his head to look at his old friend, the pain naked in his eyes as he shook his head. "I…."

"Please, Hercules. It bothers me that I can't remember him," Jason persisted, knowing that Hercules needed to talk about Iolaus, needed to release some of what he was holding inside.

Hercules swallowed as he looked back toward the horizon, back toward Greece. Sighing, he again slowly shook his head. "What colour is the wind, Jason?" he asked, his voice soft.

"I don't understand," the King replied with a frown.

"It's as hard to capture Iolaus with words as it is to describe the colour of the wind. I don't think I can do him justice," the demigod replied, looking down at the gently rolling turquoise sea.

"Try," Jason urged, not willing to give up.

Hercules was quiet for a long time, thinking, remembering. "Iolaus…Iolaus loves life…he grabs it with both hands, revels in it. He's always moving…singing, whistling…talking… laughing. Gods, his laughter…it makes you feel good just to hear it, and you can't help but laugh with him. He's got this giggle…I can't explain it, but every time I hear it, it's like these little bubbles of joy burst out of my heart, making everything seem bright and fun. He's wild, as wild as one of the creatures in the forest he loves so much…but, he can be as at home in castles, at the tables of Kings. And he's as restless as the wind, except when he's fishing or hunting and then he can be as still as…as the water on a lake at dawn, and as silent as a shadow. He's the best tracker and hunter I've ever known…the best warrior. Gods, when he fights, it's like some kind of dance, graceful sometimes, scrappy…tenacious. He just won't quit. He's honest…he'd never lie to me, or to anyone he counted as a good person…which is just about everyone but cutthroats and bullies. He's fearless…." Hercules' voice trailed off, remembering how afraid he'd been Iolaus would get himself killed.

"What does he look like?" Jason asked, honestly curious as the image of the man began to take shape.

Hercules turned to look at Jason then, a half smile teasing at his lips. "Iolaus isn't a big man, though he doesn't like it when folks notice that. He's not as tall as either of us…about a foot shorter than me, I guess. He…he has unruly, blond, curly hair and blue eyes that dance with mischief…or blaze with anger…or cloud over with hurt or concern if he's worried about someone…about me. He can cover his feelings if he has to…can appear really tough, threatening, but when I look into those eyes, he can't hide what he feels from me. He wears this ragged old vest that's all patches and leather, and black leather pants…he usually wears an earring or two. Thinks it makes him look dashing. Women trail after him like bees who've scented the richest clover." Hercules chuckled a bit in memory. "And, he likes that, a lot."

"So, he's a feisty little blond guy that women like…" Jason replied thoughtfully, trying to picture Hercules with a friend who, for all his warrior skills, couldn't be quite an equal. Who could?

Hercules shook his head at that. "No…he's not a 'little guy', Jason. In every way that counts, he's the biggest man I know. He has more energy than ten men, stamina that just won't quit. And, courage…Iolaus has the heart of a lion. Ever since he was a little kid, he's faced up to, and beaten, guys twice his size. He can put either of us in the dust without working up a sweat. He willingly chooses to stand between me and any danger that he believes threatens me…even the gods. But, his heart is kind, too. He's great with kids, gentle, and he'd do anything for someone in need, no matter what the cost. As for the women, yeah, they like him. They think he's 'cute' and he's an outrageous flirt. But, sometimes I think they like him as much, or more, for the respect he has for them, the way he really listens to them…and he enjoys them, as people, not as potential conquests."

Hercules shook his head again, fondly, as he said, "There's no one like him, Jase…he," the demigod's voice cracked, "he means the world to me. He's been my partner, my best friend, for my whole life."

"You love him," Jason reflected, moved unexpectedly by the words, but more by the emotion in the demigod's voice and face.

"Yeah," Hercules sighed as he admitted quietly, "more than life itself."

Looking back at the empty sea, turning his gaze to the cloudless sky, Hercules murmured, "I can't imagine this world without him in it. I don't know what I'd ever do…. He's always been there for me, holds me together when I'm about to fall apart, helping me to keep believing in what we do when I get discouraged. Making me laugh when I think I've forgotten how. He doesn't think of me as a demigod, as the Son of Zeus. He just sees me as his friend. He never gives up on me…and I can't give up on him."

"Hold that thought, Hercules," Jason consoled his friend. "It won't be much longer now."

Nodding that he understood, Hercules continued softly, his voice little more than a whisper, "I guess…I guess I'm afraid it's taken us too long. I feel like I've failed him…."

"What would he say to that, do you think?" the King asked quietly.

Hercules blinked against the moisture in his eyes, sniffed as he ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. "I guess he'd tell me that I'd done all I could…he'd say it wasn't my fault if a storm hit, or Nereus hid out from us for weeks or the wind failed. But, knowing what he'd say…and feeling it aren't the same thing. Gods, he has to still be there…he has to still be holding on. He's not a quitter, Jason. Iolaus doesn't know how to give up."

"Well, then, believe that until we know different. From all you've said about him, the man sounds like he can beat any odds. Trust him a while longer, Hercules…trust him to be waiting for you."

Hercules took a long, slow breath, then let it out in a deep sigh. Jason was right…it was time to trust Iolaus, trust his capacity to survive.

Trust was all he had left…he nodded, biting his lip. 'I trust you with my life, Iolaus,' he thought. 'Please…just this once, let me trust you with your own.'

Jason could see the tension had abated, a little at least. He laid a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder as they stood watch over the sea. 'I hope Hercules is right about you,' the King thought. 'I need to believe you're still there, somewhere…and that you'll come back to us, to save Alcmene…and her unborn son.'

* * *

Iolaus struggled to keep to his vow, tried to remember to whisper it to himself, but everything was drifting away. His lips and tongue were swollen from lack of water, he felt filthy but scarcely cared except for the annoying itchiness of his skin and the nagging burn of sores that had appeared from the pressure of his bones against skin that was too thin over his spine, hips, buttocks, shoulders, elbows and heels. It was taking too long…Herc wasn't going to be able to save him this time. Vaguely, he wondered if Hercules did manage to recover his body if that would mean his soul would also be freed from the void. It was something to hope for, something still to hold onto now that it had become too difficult to willfully, consciously hold onto life.

He felt the sting of tears in his eyes, surprised that there was enough moisture left in the dry husk of his body to weep. It wasn't the darkness, it wasn't even the realization he could no longer deny that he was dying. It was the thought of never seeing Hercules again. It was so damned unfair…all of it. He was being robbed of his life, not only what he might have had, but of all that he had been, all he had done. With Hercules. All those years, all those memories…all that might have been if Hera had just left them alone. The pain of it swamped him, filling his chest, overwhelming him until he sobbed weakly, not having the strength even to grieve as his heart demanded.

'Gods, I'll miss you, Herc…for all the moments of eternity. I swear I won't ever forget you…how could I?' he thought, lacking even the strength to speak. 'You've… you've been everything to me…my hope, my strength, my life. You made it all mean something good, made my life worth something decent. Hera can't take that away, not from me, not from my memory. Not ever. I'll always be grateful that you always cared so much about what happened to me. But, I'm glad you're not here to see this…to see me fade away. Glad you're not here…to suffer all of this. It's better this way…I just…I just wish I could see you once more.'

There was a place he knew he could go, a place where he could see Hercules again, hear his voice, his warm laughter…feel his strength. One place…the only refuge left to him, the only peace he could find before death finally stole the last of his breath away. It was time to seek out that place, to stop fighting it…for it was only in the corridors of his mind, in the mists of his memories, that he'd find the strength he'd need to resist just a little longer.

Trembling with the grief of letting go, knowing his friend would also be suffering, Iolaus accepted that there was nothing more he could do. He'd mastered the fear, the loneliness and despair, but there was nothing he could do about a body that just didn't have anything left to give. The cold, the darkness…the silence…it just took more energy than he had left to fight anymore. There was light in his memories, and warmth. Inside his head were places he could laugh, where he could still be with Hercules…still be strong and feel invincible. Those places beckoned to him and it had taken energy to resist them, to stay alert, to focus on conscious thoughts. Gods, it was all he could do now to keep breathing. It was time to let go of the pain and seek the only peace left to him.

He whispered hoarsely into the silence, "Herc…I've got…nothing left. Can't last…much longer… sorry…." He curled onto his side, the mud-caked blanket against his cheek, as he thought about his friend, and realized that even in death, so long as he remembered Herc and the friendship they'd shared, he couldn't be really alone. Hercules would be with him if he could…Iolaus knew his buddy would never simply abandon him. "I…I love you, Herc," he sighed.

And, then, his eyes still bravely open to the eternal night that surrounded him, he let himself drift into the brighter channels of his mind, back into the memories until those, too, faded into the darkness.

* * *

The wind finally picked up and two days later the Argo sailed into the mouth of the harbour at Corinth. They were back, finally.

Standing on the deck, balanced against the pitch of the sea, Hercules pulled the gold apple from his shirt and held it up to the heavens. "HERA!" he cried. "I'm back, and here's your damned apple! Now send Iolaus back to me!"

The apple disappeared from his hand and a moment later, a still bundle of filthy rags appeared on the deck at his feet, a mud-encrusted pack and sword materializing beside it.

Hercules dropped to his knees, holding his breath as he gently, carefully, pulled back the tattered, muddy blanket. Iolaus lay on his side, knees pulled up, his skin under the layers of filth a ghostly gray. The lids of his eyes were half-open, his eyes sunken in his skeletal face, his body emaciated to the bone and terribly fragile. Swallowing hard, Hercules eased his best friend over onto his back, supporting Iolaus' head and shoulders with one strong arm, the other hand moving quickly to test for a sign of life in the wasted, too still body. Stricken with fear when he couldn't find a pulse, he held his ear to Iolaus' chest, desperate to hear the beat of his friend's heart…and it was there, too slow, so weak as to be almost undetectable, but there. Almost dizzy with relief but still afraid, he raised his head, his hand moving to gently cup Iolaus' face, knowing it might still be too late.

Jason crouched down beside them, reaching out one hand to lay it upon Iolaus' cold bony shoulder as his eyes raked the face of the man he now remembered fully as one of his oldest and dearest friends…sickened by the death-mask before him that held no trace of the vitality of the man he'd known. "Hercules…is he…?" Jason croaked, stumbling over the words. Surely, someone so decimated could not still live?

"He's alive," Hercules murmured, "but just barely. We need to get some water into him quickly."

Scooping the feather-light body into his arms, Hercules stood and strode forward to Jason's quarters on the deck. Jason jogged ahead of him to open the door and pull back the blankets on the berth, calling for fresh water on the way.

By the time Hercules had laid Iolaus onto the sheets, one of the sailors had arrived with a jug of cool water and a pewter cup. Taking them with a muttered, 'Thanks,' Hercules poured a little water into the mug then turned to raise his friend's head. Patiently, despite his almost frenzied sense of urgency and fear, he tilted the cup, dribbling water, almost a drop at a time, into Iolaus' slack mouth.

"Not too much, or you'll sicken him," Jason cautioned, as he hovered, deeply worried at the foot of the berth.

"I know," Hercules replied quietly, taking his time. Jason turned and called for a basin of warm water, soaproot and towels. When Hercules had laid Iolaus back down, the two of them stripped him of his filthy clothing to bath the mud from his body. Throughout it all, Iolaus laid insensible, his eyes staring at some far off place, unaware of where he was and long past caring.

Hercules had to blink back the moisture in his eyes when he saw how completely wasted Iolaus had become, scarcely able to believe his friend could still be breathing, however silently and shallowly. His bones pressed sharply against grayish yellow skin that was dry and easily abraded, his lips cracked but no longer bleeding. There were sores on his body, from malnutrition and the roughness of the mud and his abdomen was distended from starvation. His hair was dull, and brittle, like old straw. Swallowing hard, focusing on the task at hand, Hercules gently bathed his sorely weakened friend, all the while telling himself that Iolaus would be fine. He just needed water, and food, rest and warmth…he'd be fine. When they were finished cleaning him up, Jason pulled a sheet over him to keep him from getting chilled, and Hercules sank down on a stool by the berth, one hand lightly resting on Iolaus' chest to feel him breathe.

Jason poured more water into the cup and held it out to the demigod, who again, slowly, fed it to his friend. They felt the ship lurch and bump lightly against the dock as they came into the port. "I'll order the coach," Jason murmured as he turned to go back out on the deck.

Hercules nodded wordlessly, his eyes riveted on Iolaus' face. He waved one hand in front of his friend's eyes, worried that there was no reaction of any kind. "Iolaus?" he called softly. "Can you hear me?" But, there was no response…nothing but the soft sigh of his friend's breathing. But, that didn't mean he couldn't hear, Hercules reminded himself. "It's over, Iolaus…I got you back. You're safe now, in Corinth. There's water, and food…and light and warmth. You made it, buddy…you held on. All you need to do now is rest and get strong again…you hear me? You're going to be all right, Iolaus."

Hercules voice cracked and he had to stop the reassuring litany of words, but he kept up the contact by stroking Iolaus' hair back from his forehead, and tracing the backs of his fingers down a sunken cheek. Taking one of Iolaus' limp hands into his own, he held it securely, massaging his thumb lightly over the back of Iolaus' hand. The demigod tried to remember if he'd ever seen someone so starved and dehydrated who had survived the ordeal, but gave it up when he couldn't come up with a single positive example. It didn't matter if no one else he knew had lived through such deprivation. Iolaus was different, a survivor. He'd lasted this long, he hadn't given up…he wouldn't quit now.

The reassuring words tumbled through his mind…his heart only wished it could believe them.

* * *

As soon as Iolaus was installed in his regular chamber in the palace, Jason's healer pushed the two friends back to allow him access to the dying man's body. Metallus had no doubt that Iolaus was at death's door… given the look of him, the healer was only surprised that the man was still breathing. He tested Iolaus' reactions to light by waving a candle before his eyes; to pain, by pinching him, hard; and, he tapped at his patient's limbs to seek out the normal reflexes in legs, feet, arms and hands. His sensitive fingers tested the tenor of Iolaus' papery skin, examined the ugly sores and he bent over the wizened, withered body to listen to Iolaus' chest, to the heartbeat and the sounds of air in the lungs. Hercules and Jason watched tensely from the far side of the massive bed, flinching as the healer poked and prodded their friend's cadaverous body.

Iolaus, never a big man, had had a presence, an energy and vitality which could fill a hall, or stand out in any crowd, but this wasted creature bore no resemblance to that man, seeming more a shrunken, fragile child. Both men felt utterly sick at the sight. Jason, now fully understanding the urgency Hercules had felt throughout their journey, cursed the winds that had delayed them for at least four days and the useless twit, Nereus, who had led them a merry chase for almost three weeks. Gods, if only they could have achieved their objective weeks sooner, Iolaus would not have suffered so profoundly.

Finally, the healer stepped back, his expression thoughtful as he shook his head. "It's not good," he reported, as if they hadn't noticed their friend's frighteningly debilitated condition. "His pupils do react normally to light, but there is no other sign that he notices it. He's deeply unconscious, so deep that he doesn't register any pain. His reflexes though, are present, which is a hopeful sign and while his heart is weak, the lungs are clear. Good thing…he'd never survive pneumonia in his present condition." Looking up at them, he shrugged diffidently as he continued, "I'm sorry…there is little I can do for him beyond ensuring the kitchen prepares nourishing broth. Get as much water, and even a little wine, into him as you can. Keep him warm…talk to him." The healer paused and looked back down at his patient. "Hercules… you've said he was in a place of no light, sound or warmth…is that correct?"

"Yes…only cold mud, nothing else," the demigod replied tightly, remembering the grim environment too well.

"Hmmm," considered the healer, frowning. Looking back at his King and the Son of Zeus, he asked, "But, you took torches…how much of the time do you think he would have been in darkness?"

Hercules licked his lips and shrugged, thinking back to the number of torches he'd brought, how long they'd burn. "Most of the time, I'd guess," he replied. "Iolaus only had enough torches to have light for a brief time each day, given that he was stuck there for more than a month. In the last week, he may have had no light at all."

"I see," murmured the healer, stroking his cheek absently. "How did Iolaus react to being in the dark, normally?"

Hercules looked down at Iolaus as he replied, "Ordinary darkness, with the stars and the moon, didn't bother him at all…he's the best night tracker I know. But…Iolaus hates being trapped in dark places. It's the one thing that…well, that scared…scares him."

"Uh huh," Metallus muttered, pretending not to have noticed the unintentional stumble with the past tense, pretending not to have seen how deathly pale the demigod had gone when he realized he'd used it. "In some respects, the deprivation of light, sound and touch worry me more than the effects of the starvation. Though his body is badly wasted, there is no indication of permanent damage. But his lack of any response, lack of awareness of his surroundings worries me…the darkness and silence might have gone on too long for him to cope with any longer."

"What are you saying?" Jason asked, his voice edged hard with concern.

Metallus gazed at his King, compassion in his eyes, as he answered, "I'm saying that there may be damage to his mind more than to his body."

"Which means what?" pushed the King, frowning heavily.

Sighing, the healer looked away, again shaking his head. "We understand little of how the mind works, but I've seen, and heard, of people who have had to bear too much and who have retreated into themselves so far that no one could ever reach them again."

"Ever?" Hercules whispered, not wanting to accept the healer's words, not wanting to hear this confirmation of the fears that had been tormenting him. Had Iolaus survived only to be lost in a kind of madness?

"As I said, talk to him, let him know he's not alone. Touch him, his face, his arms and body, his hands so that he feels the contact with another living being. Keep lots of candles burning through the night so that he never finds himself in the dark. And, hope…hope that he hears you and wants to come back," Metallus counseled as he gathered his tools back into his leather pouch. "And, as I said, keep giving him water and the broth I'll have sent up…as much as you can get into him. I'll also send lotions for you to work into his skin and salves for those sores, to help them heal. Turn him every few hours to relieve the pressure on his back and joints, and to keep the sores open to the air."

With a last unreadable gaze down upon his patient, the healer left the room, closing the heavy oaken door softly behind him. Though he'd given what encouragement he could, he held little hope, and he was saddened by that awareness. He knew Iolaus and liked him…but though he'd seen Iolaus recover from injuries that should have killed him in the past, he feared the man was too far gone this time to survive long. Even if the dying man could hear the voices, feel the touch of others, sense the warmth and light, he'd likely only believe it was part of the imaginary world he'd retreated into, never thinking to reach out toward it, to grasp the possibility that it could all be real. Metallus swallowed the bile in his throat, and shook his head in pity as he headed down the corridor…Iolaus deserved better than to fade away never knowing he'd made it back.

"Gods," Jason murmured into the heavy silence, stricken by the healer's words.

Hercules poured water into a delicate silver goblet, then supported Iolaus' head as he dribbled the water into his friend's mouth. Finished, he took a towel and gently dried Iolaus' face and neck, then pulled a chair close to the bed, settling into it and taking one of Iolaus' hands in his own.

Jason watched the deliberate, methodical actions, ached at the gentleness of Hercules' large hands as he worked over Iolaus' skeletal form, and looked up into the demigod's face, seeing the control Hercules was exerting upon himself, the lines around his lips and the frown between his brows. "Hercules…you have to be prepared. He may not ever…"

But, the demigod cut him off. "Iolaus is going to be fine, Jason. He just needs time, that's all, and care. There's no one I know who's stronger, or more determined. He's going to be fine." Hercules' voice was tight, determinedly confident, but he couldn't look at Jason, couldn't face what he'd see mirrored in Jason's eyes. Fear…and grief.

And, worst of all, hopelessness.

Jason shook his head sadly, then moved to stand behind Hercules, one hand gripping his friend's shoulder as he said, "You're right…there is no one with a greater heart or more courage than Iolaus. If anyone can come back from this, he can. I'm going to send for Alcmene…she'd want to be here, I know."

"Thanks, Jason," Hercules replied, his throat tight with tears he refused to shed. Not now…not yet.

* * *

One day passed, and then another, with no change. Alcmene arrived, and cried when she saw what had become of Iolaus, her heart breaking for all that he had suffered. Jason cancelled all of his state business, against the loud protests of his advisers, and the three of them took turns, standing watch over Iolaus, talking to him, feeding liquids into his body, gently massaging his skin with the lotions to restore its resilience. By the third day, his colour was better, his skin less dry and papery, but his hair still lay like dead straw. He didn't move, didn't react to anything. His eyes remained unfocused and clouded.

During the evening of the fourth day, Alcmene joined Hercules out on the small balcony that led from Iolaus' chamber. Her son was standing as rigid as a statue, his head back as he stared at the star-filled sky. Quietly, she laid a hand on his arm, feeling the tension in him. So far as she knew, he hadn't slept since she'd arrived, and what he'd been eating wouldn't keep a sparrow alive. "You have to rest, Hercules. Iolaus wouldn't want this…wouldn't want you to make yourself ill over this," she said softly.

Hercules lowered his head, but didn't turn to face her. "I hate this," he said, his voice rough. "I hate what she's done to him. I wish…I wish there was something…anything…I could have done to have saved him from this. Gods…my words…." His voice shattered as he choked back a sob.

"Hercules…stop that! This is none of your fault!" she scolded, but her voice was loving.

He turned then, to take her into his arms, to hug her and hold onto her as if she was a lifeline. Silent tears glistened on his cheeks as he murmured brokenly, "We'd been fighting…and I said some terrible things, inexcusable…but, I'd been so scared by what he'd done a few days before. He could have been killed, so easily, and for nothing…nothing. I wanted him to understand…to be more careful. I never wanted…this."

"Of course you didn't…you've seen him since then, talked with him in that terrible place Hera sent him. What did he say about the fight you'd had?" Alcmene asked, pretty sure she knew the answer.

Hercules looked up into the night, sniffed and blinked away the moisture in his eyes. "He said it was no more my fault than his…that Hera was responsible, only Hera," he answered, heaving a heavy sigh.

"And, you know he's right," Alcmene consoled him. "Hercules, Iolaus would never doubt your friendship…never. Back in that room, he's not hiding from you, withdrawn from you…it's the darkness and silence he's rejecting, and the hunger, the thirst and cold. He withdrew to protect himself the only way he had left…and he doesn't know, yet, that he's free of that terrible prison. Once he's stronger, if we keep talking to him, believing in him, I'm certain he'll come back to us. You can't give up hope."

Hercules pulled away from her embrace, stepping back to look down at her. "You're very wise, do you know that, Mother?"

"I do my best, sweetheart…but, you didn't need me to tell you these things. You know Iolaus better than anyone. Believe in him, Hercules…he's never let you down."

Hercules bit his lip as he looked away, again having to blink hard against the moisture which had sprung into his eyes. No, Iolaus had never, ever let him down. He trembled a little, as his control slipped. He pushed a shaking hand through his hair, then leaned back against the balustrade, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. "I can't stand the thought of losing him," he whispered hoarsely. "I'll kill her, I swear I will, if…."

"Hercules," Alcmene's voice rang with strength, "this is not the time for anger or thoughts of retribution. Hera is what she is. Right now, your only concern, your only interest, must focus on Iolaus, getting him better. You won't invest him with confidence, you won't call him back if all he hears is anger or grief in your voice. Now, you're going to have something to eat, and then you're going to rest. I won't have my boys invalids at the same time…he needs you to be strong right now."

Sheepishly, Hercules looked up through his bangs at his mother and nodded, wordlessly. He didn't know what it was about her, but she had the capability of making him feel like a foolish child…but, then, he supposed he helped if he was acting like one. Straightening, he followed her back into the bedchamber and dutifully ate the stew the kitchen had sent up, though it could have been sawdust for all he noticed its taste or texture. Then, he went next door, to his own chamber, to try to sleep for an hour or two.

Alone with Iolaus, Alcmene sat beside him on the bed, stroking his cheek before she took one of his hands into her own. "I've told Hercules that you're going to come back to us, Iolaus…don't make a liar of me. We need you, he and I…I've never told you, but we're going to be killed if you aren't there to save us. So, you see, you have to come back…you have to be strong again, and confident, just as you've always been. Without you, we're lost…do you hear me, Iolaus? We need you, my son. Please come back to us."

* * *

Hercules, Alcmene and Jason weren't the only ones watching over Iolaus' progress…or lack of it. When Hera had finally returned him to his life, Hades heaved a sigh of relief. His domain was back to normal and there'd been no need after all for months of paperwork. He'd been right to place his bets on Hercules and Iolaus.

The other gods and goddesses held their own vigil. The warning of the Fates had alarmed them, and they were all collectively furious with Hera, that she had pushed it so far. If Iolaus didn't recover, they could all be at risk. The Queen of the Gods found herself isolated in her own temple, alone amongst the deities as only she continued to gloat over the continuing suffering she had caused.

The Fates, like Hades, were relieved that they could leave their tapestry intact. But, they were still very worried. The shadow seemed to be growing stronger, almost tangible now. Clothos wove golden threads and Lachesis strengthened Iolaus' line with them, but they all knew the challenge he faced now was not physical, and they could only do so much. He'd live…but would he be able to play the role needed of him when the time came? They didn't know, no one knew.

They could all only wait and watch…and hope.

* * *

A week passed with no observable change in Iolaus. It was late afternoon, the golden sunlight streaming in from the door that led out onto the balcony, and Hercules was talking to his friend. Forcing a note of banter into his voice, Hercules was retelling the experience of seeing Iolaus struck by a bolt of lightning. "Gods, Iolaus…you were fried! Your hair was sticking up in all directions…you were covered in soot from the smoke that still wafted off your body and your eyes were as wide as two saucers. You just stood there, rigid, then started to fall forward…still rigid, like a statue! I picked you up and carried you into the cave, out of the rain, and cleaned you up a little, but you just sat there…much like you're lying here now, eyes wide but not focused, with this look of absolute surprise on your face. I have to tell you, I was beginning to wonder if you were going to stay frozen like that forever! When, all of a sudden, you just jerked and started babbling about the future. It was incredible, you know, all that stuff about riders coming, and a woman I should beware of, and people flying in metal birds as big as really huge wagons with rows of windows cut into the sides… weird…really weird stuff. But, you were right about a lot of it, and I wonder about those flying metal birds sometimes…I wonder if you were right about them, too."

Hercules' voice ran down and he blew out a long breath. Gods, he hadn't talked this much in his whole life before. Reaching up, he stroked Iolaus' cheek gently, then again took hold of one of his hands. "Can you hear me, buddy? Can you hear anything that I'm saying to you?" he asked softly, no trace of the former bantering tone in his now haunted, deeply sad voice. "Gods, I wish I knew…I miss you, Iolaus. I miss your voice, and your laughter. Your teasing and godsawful singing. I miss seeing you bounce along a road or dance through a fight. I miss our talks, by the campfires…I miss telling you what matters to me, and knowing that you care. You're my best friend, the only person I trust completely, without question…the only one I can be myself with, all the time. I miss the teasing, and the mischief in your eyes…the understanding. I miss the friendship you always gave me, and the strength. Gods, I miss you so much it hurts."

Hercules looked away, out the open door and up at the clear sky. Watching a bird dip in the wind, he didn't see the flutter of lashes. "I miss you, Iolaus," he said again, softly. "I want you back."

Voices in the darkness, droning on and on, getting clearer, closer…were they real? Gods…sometimes, like now, Herc sounded so real. 'I miss you, too, buddy,' Iolaus thought with sharp longing, wanting so badly to see his friend again. It was probably all just another dream…he knew it was impossible, that only mud and darkness were real, only cold and deprivation. But, gods, he wanted, needed to see Hercules again, wanted to believe he was there, close by. Had to try, had to find out…even if the truth of the everlasting nothingness finally broke his heart and spirit. He had to try. 'I'm here, Herc!' he called out in the depths of his mind. 'Can you hear me?' Iolaus strained to be heard, to reach out to his best friend…ached to find he wasn't alone anymore.

"Herc?" Just a soft whisper, a tremulous breath of hope.

But, it was enough. Hercules' eyes flew back to Iolaus' face, his lips trembling when he saw those eyes focused on him, or trying to as Iolaus blinked against the light. The small hand in his own flexed and then weakly gripped his fingers.

"Iolaus?" Hercules murmured, fighting the tears that threatened to blur his vision. "Gods…Iolaus!"

"Yeah…where am I?" his friend muttered, confused, his eyes flicking around the room. There was light and warmth…it felt so real…could it be possible?

"Jason's castle…you've been here for a week now," Hercules explained, reaching to brush the curls back from his best friend's face.

"A week? I'm…back?" Iolaus asked, the look of hope on his face so poignant, so desperate and disbelieving, that Hercules' heart twisted in his chest. "This…this isn't a dream? Gods, Herc, tell me this is real."

"Yes, buddy, it's real…you're back…safe. And, you going to be just fine," Hercules stammered, his throat thick with emotion.

Iolaus smiled tremulously then, and tears appeared in his own eyes…eyes that were shining now, bright and alive, wanting so badly to believe this was real. "You did it…you got me back?" he murmured, trembling, his voice catching with the wonder, the miracle, of it, wanting desperately for it all to be true.

"Shhh, it's alright…you knew I wouldn't give up on you, anymore than you would have ever given up on me," Hercules replied with a soft smile, his heart aching with almost unendurable joy. "That's why you fought so hard to survive…you made it, Iolaus…gods, buddy…you made it!"

Hercules couldn't help himself. He pulled Iolaus up and into his arms, holding him securely, hugging him, and neither man was aware of the tears that slipped from their eyes as Iolaus gripped him back, weakly to be sure, but with determined effort. As Iolaus clutched the soft sturdy fabric of Herc's vest in his fists, felt his friend's breath hot on the back of his neck, felt the strength of those arms holding just a little too tightly, he shuddered with emotion…it was real.

Hercules was real.

Oh gods, it wasn't a dream.

It wasn't a dream!

Overwhelmed, overcome with a reality he'd given up hoping for, Iolaus whispered brokenly, "Thanks, Herc…oh gods…thank you."

Hercules would have replied but for the lump that clogged his throat…all he could do was weep with relief, trembling as he hugged his friend closer still, his face buried in Iolaus' hair.

Finally, Hercules eased Iolaus back down onto the bed and stroked his cheek, gently brushing away the traces of his friend's tears. "Rest now, for a while. I'm going to tell the others you're back…and get you something to eat, okay?"

"Yeah," Iolaus murmured, his lashes already fluttering as he slipped into the first normal sleep he'd had since he'd appeared on the deck of the Argo. He could relax now…he was safe.

* * *

In the days ahead, Iolaus quickly moved from the broth to more substantial fare. He could only get up for short periods the first week, but his restless spirit and determination drove him to regain his strength. In less than a month, he was almost back to normal, laughing and teasing, working out with Hercules and Jason, getting his share of wins…though he suspected they were going easy on him. It didn't matter…he had his life back and it was very good.

Alcmene fussed over him, taking over the kitchen to bake all his favourite things, so his body filled out again, losing it's fragile, skeletal lines, and his muscles responded to the exercise. He fairly glowed with health and energy, though his stamina took a little longer in coming back to its full capacity.

Iolaus wouldn't say much about the time he'd spent in the void, shrugging off any questions with a vague, "Oh, you know, it was dark…." But, he was eager to hear all that had transpired while he'd been gone, most especially about how Herc had managed to get him back. Between the three of them, they told him the story of all that had happened, and as a consequence, learned bits each had not heard before. Almost all. Jason and Alcmene, united now by a secret of something the future would hold, did not share the story of how she had begged for Zeus' help.

When the hunter heard Hercules had bargained with Hera, had set out on a mission to serve her demand, he turned to gaze at his friend. Gods, after all Hera had done to him…for Hercules to agree to do anything for her, for any reason, was incredible…and a testament to how desperate and committed he'd been to getting his friend back, no matter what. Hercules returned his look, but then had to turn away, embarrassed by what he saw in Iolaus' eyes, humbled by the limitless respect and gratitude he saw in that steady gaze.

"But…why did Hera even give you the chance to bargain for me, Herc? It's not like her to be so generous," Iolaus asked, not yet having heard the details of the Assembly of the Gods.

Hercules quirked a brow as he replied, a slight grin dancing on his lips, "She didn't have much choice. The Fates told Zeus that they needed you back, to somehow save the gods, in the future, from some unnamed threat."

"The Fates? Save the gods?" Iolaus stammered. "Me?"

"Apparently," Hercules replied, smiling widely now at the reaction he'd anticipated.

"But…that's crazy!" Iolaus stated, shaking his head, looking more than a little stunned.

"Hmmm…maybe. But, they weren't about to risk the truth of it," the demigod replied with a devilish grin. "Personally, I just think one or all of the old dears have a crush on you, and made it all up."

Iolaus giggled at that, and neither of them noticed the quick look between Jason and Alcmene. Maybe Iolaus wouldn't save the gods himself…but it was more than likely he was going to save the only one who could.

As the long saga unfolded, Iolaus shuddered at the recounting of the battles with the Egyptians and the dragon. "Gods, Hercules…it was crazy to go there, risk everything! And, you, Jason…you're even crazier than he is. You didn't even remember me at that point! You had no reason…" he reflected.

Jason shrugged a little, gazing from Hercules to Alcmene as he replied quietly, "Oh, I had my reasons."

Iolaus nodded, as he murmured, "Thanks." But then he grinned as he continued, "You know, I'm kinda sorry I missed it all. Sounds like it was quite an adventure!" Hercules threw a pillow at him for that comment while Jason laughed and Alcmene beamed at all of them.

For all he seemed to be recovering with no ill effects, Hercules worried about the shadows he sometimes saw in his buddy's eyes and the way Iolaus shifted his gaze whenever anyone asked about how he'd managed to survive, dropping his eyes or looking away. And he knew Iolaus still kept candles burning through the night. Iolaus was trying to bury it, and was probably also trying to protect them from the horror of what he'd had to endure. The demigod didn't want to force Iolaus to talk about it, but he did want his buddy to know he was there to listen, if Iolaus needed him. One day, they were ambling around the extensive gardens, when Hercules glanced at Iolaus sideways then said quietly, "Hades heard you, and told me what you'd said…you know, after Zeus made him bring me back…."

"Oh yeah?" Iolaus replied, with a faraway gaze, "I didn't think anybody'd been listening."

Hercules touched Iolaus lightly on the shoulder, causing him to turn and face him. "I would have gone back if I could, but Zeus had forbidden it…"

A soft smile played around Iolaus' lips then as he gazed up into his friend's troubled eyes. "I know that, Hercules. What you did, choosing to go there, to be with me…gods, Herc, I will never forget that. But, I meant it…I was glad you were pulled back from there. As bad as it ever got, I was always glad to know that you, at least, were safe." Chuckling softly, he continued gratefully, "And, besides, if you'd gone back, we'd both still be there."

It was Hercules who looked away this time, and spotting a marble bench nearby, he sank down on it. Thinking about how, despite what had happened to him, what he'd suffered, Iolaus was only quietly and sincerely glad he hadn't suffered the same fate, was only grateful that Hercules had gotten him back, the demigod could have wept for all his friend had suffered, still suffered silently and alone.

Iolaus watched him, a faint frown between his brows. "What's wrong, Herc?" he asked when the demigod just sat there, staring at the ground.

Hercules lifted his eyes to Iolaus' and the hunter was surprised to see moisture glistening in them. "What's wrong?" the demigod repeated. "Oh…I don't know. Maybe that I made you a promise to stay with you that I didn't keep. Or, that I was afraid, gods, Iolaus, so afraid I'd let you down, that I'd be too late. Or, maybe it's just that I can't stop thinking about you, lost there, suffering so bad, alone…and I couldn't help you…and I can't even help you now, because you won't talk about it…I guess because it still hurts you too much to even think about it."

Hercules shook his head and looked away as he continued, "Maybe it's that all of it was because of who I am, that you were almost destroyed, your life erased, just because you're my best friend, because that makes you a target. Or, that I want to make Hera pay for what she did, so that she'll never, ever hurt you like that again, but there isn't anything I can ever do to her that could punish her enough for the pain you suffered. Maybe it's just that cold lump of fear inside that won't go away…I was so terrified that you'd never even know we'd gotten you back…I didn't know how to reach you. Or, I don't know…maybe it's just all of it…I've been sick with fury and fear and grief and guilt so long, I'd been so scared of failing you, so sick at not being able to get to you, maybe I just don't know how to let it go."

A single tear had spilled over onto Herc's pale cheek, but he seemed unaware of it as he looked from the garden to the sky and again back to the ground, his hands clasping and unclasping, his shoulders slumped as he murmured, as if to himself. "The worst, though…the absolute worst is knowing it was so bad that you won't let me see it, that you're still trying to protect me… that part of you is still back there, and I still can't help you."

Iolaus had moved almost immediately to stand beside his friend, and to grip his shoulder tightly, reassuringly. When the demigod faltered into silence, still refusing to look at him, Iolaus squatted down beside him, to see into his face. "Gods, I'm only gone for a little more than a month and you've picked up such a load of crap. What am I going to do with you?"

Hercules cast him a quick look, and couldn't believe the glint of warm humour he saw in his friend's eyes or the grin twitching at his lips. "What…you think this is funny?" he asked, then shook his head again as he looked away.

Iolaus rubbed his friend's shoulder for a moment, then stood to move around and sit beside him on the bench. "No," he replied softly, "there's not much that's funny about what happened. But, it's still a load of crap." Iolaus ticked off fingers as he continued briskly, "First, you've never broken a promise to me in your whole life, and second, you've never let me down. Third, you worry so much about how you couldn't reach me, help me…when you were all that really kept me going. Reach me? Gods, Herc, what you were willing to do for me, what you were ready to suffer just to keep me company…" Iolaus floundered, at a loss for words, unaware his hand had risen to touch his chest, just over his heart, as if it hurt. Shaking his head, he could only say softly, "I will never forget that, never lose that feeling."

Hercules gazed at him wordlessly, searching his face, seeing what Iolaus couldn't find the words to say, nodding a little unconsciously, as if to confirm that he'd do it all again, in a heartbeat.

Turning to face his friend, Iolaus continued more forcefully, with a tone of uncompromising reason, "But, I know you're not a god…sometimes even you can't stop their will. Punish Hera…now that's a laugh. Where would we begin? It would take the rest of our lives and she still wouldn't have paid enough for what she's done to you…because I know what she does hurts you every bit as much or more than it's hurt your family, or me, or anyone else you've ever cared about. You know as well as I do that we could waste our lives trying to make her pay, and it would never be enough. Frankly, we both have better things to do. And, when you thought you couldn't reach me, once you'd gotten me back, where do you think I was?"

Hercules shrugged and shook his head. "I don't know…still back there in that muddy void, I guess, still being tormented by the darkness and silence…."

Iolaus snorted as he waved that idea away, then smacked Hercules lightly on the arm as if he should have known the right answer. "Nah…I'd blown that ouzo stand. *I was with you, dummy. Where else would I have gone? I was with you, in my head…where I wanted to be, because that's the only place I've ever wanted to be…just with you. Hera might have erased my life, but she couldn't take away my memories of what it had been. And when you finally dragged me back, it's because I heard your voice and believed in you enough to risk it being real. Because I always knew that if anyone could ever get me out of there, it was you…and I believed in you enough to make myself to hold on, to give you time, and to not let that bitch beat us. That's what I meant by a load of crap, and why I couldn't help but smile…you think you let me down. Gods, Herc…you saved me, just like always."

Hercules turned his gaze on his friend and could read the sincerity in his eyes. "Why won't you tell me what it was like? Why do you feel you have to carry that alone?"

Iolaus winced a little as he sighed and looked away. "You're getting to be as sneaky as I am, you know that? Suckering me into talking about it by sharing the horrors you still carry inside, and then, whammo, zero right in on mine."

"Iolaus…I don't want to force it, if you don't want to talk about it…but I don't want you carrying it around alone, either, if you need to get it out. I'm here for you, to listen…if you want," Hercules replied, not sure he liked being charged with being sneaky…but deciding he deserved it. If he'd asked head-on, Iolaus for sure would have just clammed up. Not that any of what Hercules had said hadn't been true…or that the pain he felt about it all not real. But he'd chosen to let it out when Iolaus' words had cut him to his soul because it was the only way he could think of to get Iolaus talking about what had happened to him.

Iolaus sat with his head down for a long, long moment, his hands clasped over his thighs, his brow furrowed as he bit his lip, wondering how much he could share, would want to ever share, of what that endless time had been like. But, he knew he still woke up with cold sweat glistening on his body, and once they were back on the road, his nightmares would be only too evident to Hercules. He had to talk about it sometime. Swallowing as he looked up at the bright sky, so grateful to be able to see it again, he sighed as he reflected, that in some ways, depending on how you looked at it, it hadn't been all bad. He'd realized some truths about himself, mastered some terrors…well, maybe not mastered…learned to live with, maybe?

"It was bad, Herc," Iolaus murmured then, deciding they both needed him to talk about it. "You know what is was like…you were there. I'm not kidding when I tell you that there were times when the only thing that kept me going was the vow I'd made to hold on for you. But, you know, I learned some things, about the value of patience and endurance…maybe enough to remember I don't always have to rush into things, take stupid chances…that holding back, waiting, is another option I never would have considered before. And, let's just say the darkness doesn't hold the same demons anymore. I'm not saying I'll ever be comfortable being trapped in dark places, but they won't ever terrify me the way they once did."

He paused a moment, swallowing, remembering, and didn't notice Hercules flinch when he said quietly, "I learned that it's not in me to kill myself, even when I wanted to, but that I could face death, not just as one more risk in battle, but with a kind of peace I didn't know could exist." Stiffening his back a little, he sighed, then continued more briskly, "I got through it all with a little meditation, a little exercise, by talking to myself a lot…by worrying about you. 'Cause, I knew it was torture for you, too. There were times when I cried, and felt it was all hopeless, sure. There were times when I was afraid I'd go crazy from fear, from being alone. But…then I realized I wasn't really alone. I…."

His voice cracked a bit and he had to swallow before he could continue. Gods, why was it so hard to talk about this stuff…these feelings that formed the foundation of his soul? If there was anything from those terrible weeks that Herc deserved to know, this was it. And, Iolaus wanted to tell his friend what the reality of Herc's love had meant, the strength he'd drawn from it…it was just so damned hard to get through it without breaking down.

Patient, ready to wait forever if need be to give Iolaus the time to find the words, Hercules gazed at him with wonder and immeasurable sadness at what he'd had to survive. And, with respect for his strength and courage in having been able to actually learn from the experience, not simply rage against it, or hate it with every fibre of his being.

Turning to face his friend, glancing up from time to time to meet Herc's gaze, Iolaus continued, a little haltingly, "I…I wasn't really alone because you hadn't abandoned me. Even though you weren't there, I could feel…the reality of…the presence of…." He floundered, shook his head and, impatient with himself for his embarrassment at saying this stuff out loud, looked Hercules squarely in the eye and said bluntly, "I know you love me, Herc. I could still feel that even after you were gone…and I knew you were thinking about me constantly, worrying about me, doing everything in your power to get me back. You couldn't be there in body, but it was like you'd left everything else that is you with me. So, I wasn't ever completely alone once I figured that out, realized that."

Hercules found he had to swallow hard, and blink as he looked away.

Having said the 'L' word, Iolaus relaxed, sitting back again, as he continued, "I used to imagine what you were doing, to try to get me back…and I talked to you, as if you could hear me. I talked about all the things we've ever done together, to pass the time. And, when it was more than I could do to stay in that darkness any longer, I went looking for you, in my head, and I found you there…cause you're always there. So, don't worry about not being able to reach me, or that I was alone and you couldn't get to me to help. You were there. In a way I don't really understand, it's like you're a part of me. I don't know how else to say it, or how else to help you let your own grief about it all go. Gods, Herc, you cared enough about me to give up everything, and to bring the stuff that allowed me to physically survive long enough for you to do what you had to do to bring me back. You saved my life, Herc, not just the here and now of it, but all of it, my whole lifetime…you got that back for me. But, even if I'd died there, what you did saved my soul. Because, even if I was still there, dead…I'd still feel your love and I wouldn't be alone."

Moved beyond words, Hercules looped a strong arm around Iolaus' shoulders and drew them closer. They sat like that a long time, in silence, thinking about all that had happened, about what they each meant to one another.

Finally, Hercules murmured softly, "I'm glad if knowing how much you mean to me helped you get through it all. But, you give me 'way too much credit, my friend. You survived because of the strength and courage you carry around inside, because it isn't in you to ever give up. And, don't think I haven't noticed that you've glossed over a lot of it…like starving to death, or being endlessly cold. If you ever need to get all of it out, I'm here to listen…anytime. Iolaus, I…I missed you, more than I could ever find the words to tell you…and I was terrified of never seeing you again. I couldn't begin to imagine a world, a life, without you in it… 'cause you're part of me, too, buddy. I almost lost it, more than once, but I had others to pull me back, to keep giving me hope. You did all that alone, Iolaus, pulled yourself back and held on despite how hopeless it must have seemed to be. I'm in awe of what you achieved, buddy…you blow me away."

Iolaus grinned at that and dug an elbow into Herc's ribs as he replied, "Really? Good. 'Cause I'm older and Alcmene always told me I had to set the right example."

Hercules chuckled and ruffled his friend's hair as they both straightened up, needing to let the mood lighten. "So…what you've been telling me is, you're okay, really okay?" Hercules asked with a slight smile.

"Herc, I've been telling you I'm okay for almost a month now…do you finally believe me?" Iolaus sniffed, as if the demigod had been challenging his veracity all this time.

"Yeah, I believe you," Hercules replied with a fond look at his best friend. "I'm glad you're back."

"Yeah, so'm I," Iolaus replied, then sniffed the air again and stood. "But, you know what I really missed? The smell of your mother's cooking…and eating it! C'mon, big guy, let's see what she's rustled up for us today."

Laughing, Hercules stood and followed Iolaus back out of the garden and into the palace, reassured to know his buddy really had come out of it all intact, that he really was all right. The last shadows of fear and worry that had haunted Hercules' own soul began to ease and fade into memory.

* * *

The time came for Alcmene to head back to her home, and for Hercules and Iolaus to move on. Jason hated to see them all go. They were his family, and he missed them when they were gone. As he watched Alcmene drive off in her wagon, he reflected that maybe he should do something about the way he felt…maybe she wouldn't laugh at him, after all, and treat him like the kid he'd once been. During those moments when they'd both forgotten the lives of Hercules and Iolaus, the walls they'd habitually, and unconsciously, held in place between them had disappeared, allowing them to recognize the feelings they had for one another. Though neither of them had felt comfortable in acknowledging that awareness yet, not now that their old relationship had been restored, neither could they ignore their feelings any longer, pretending they weren't real or true. In the last month they'd talked a lot, gotten closer as individuals, not just as a mother visiting with one of her son's best friends. He loved her, he knew it. One day soon, he must find the courage to tell her that. When she turned back for a moment, catching his eye, and waving to him, pausing as if reluctant to go, he even dared to hope that she wouldn't turn him away, that she might love him back.

As he watched Hercules and Iolaus walk through the gates, he reflected on the story Alcmene had shared with him, of what she remembered of a courageous, blond stranger who'd come from the future to save her life and her unborn child. He respected her confidence, knowing she'd spent a lifetime not sharing it with either Hercules or Iolaus…nor would he, ever. Best they not know what lay ahead.

The two friends sauntered down the long, dusty road until they came to the trail that led up into the forested hills. Iolaus was whistling tunelessly, his eyes dancing as he took in all the sights of trees in blossom, flowers along the lane, carpeting the hills, birds winging high above, and the rustle of small creatures in the grass…a sudden flash of feathers, as a pheasant broke cover not far ahead. Reveling in the light and warmth of the sun.

At one point, a clutch of baby rabbits bumbled into their path, tumbling over one another as they played…and then froze when they scented the two men. Iolaus held up a hand to stop Hercules from moving any closer, scaring them any further, as he squatted down to watch them, lessening the threat of his shadow. They tumbled all over one another as they tried to get away, like a very mixed up and not very skilled acrobatic team, and he giggled softly at their antics. A larger rabbit charged out of the undergrowth to rise up on her haunches between the men and her brood, intent upon defending them, if need be. "'S okay, momma," Iolaus murmured, "Nobody's huntin' rabbit today." Her ears flicked at him, then she thumped one hind paw, drawing the little ones' attention, leading them back into the shadows of the forest.

Hercules felt happy just watching his friend enjoy the simple experience of walking down a country lane, and his throat tightened at the sound of that soft giggle. Having spent a little time in the void, he could understand Iolaus' quiet joy in the day. They made camp that night in the same location they'd shared when the horror had all begun. Once again, Iolaus fished for their dinner as Hercules built the fire. After the meal, Iolaus looked across the flames at Hercules, licked his fingers, then said, "You've been quiet today…well, you're always quiet, but you know what I mean… more than usual. Something bothering you?"

For a moment's flash in time, Hercules felt the chill of how similar this evening was to the last one they'd spent in this grove, Iolaus' actions and words eerily echoing that terrible night. But, then, Herc grinned at his best friend, his gaze warm as he replied, "Nope…there's not a thing bothering me. I was just thinking, you know, as we traveled along today, about how really, really, glad I am that you were born."

Finis.

Note: In Ancient Greek mythology, the term 'labour' was used to denote a contest for a rare or highly desired prize. The eleventh labour of Hercules was to travel to the Garden of the Hesperides, the three daughters of Night, at the far western edge of the world, to retrieve the three golden apples given to Hera by Gaia upon her wedding to Zeus. Hercules had to get directions to the secret location of the garden from Nereus, a sea-god, who shape-changed to terrify and discourage the demigod, and on the way, he had to battle and kill Busiris who had determined all foreigners were to be sacrificed to Zeus. Once in the garden, Hercules had to slay the dragon, Ladon, who guarded the tree of life. In the myth, Hercules had other adventures along the way which I have omitted for the sake of brevity. Also, in the mythic version, Hercules traveled alone…Jason's role is my own invention. The myth is interpreted as being a journey to the realm of death and a conquest of death. It seemed to fit the theme of this story, so I hope you will excuse the liberties I've taken with the original mythology!