Kneeling on the soft earth, he carefully lifted the young wild violet plants he'd found in the forest that morning from the sacking beside him, and laid the tendrils of roots gently into the hollowed out shallow hole he'd dug in the rich loam, and then packed the dark earth back around them. Reaching for the water jug, he poured just enough to keep the roots wet, but not enough to drown them. Leaning back, he studied his handiwork, satisfied, and then looked up at the marker Hercules had carved, smiling sadly as he swallowed back the lump that tried to fill his throat.

The marker was beautiful, crafted with a patient love to represent all the little things that would capture a boy's interest…snails, and a mouse, a puppy with floppy ears and gaping grin, a flower and a bird on the wing, a rabbit and a butterfly. Below the carved images was a single name, Taras…and below that a representation of tears almost obscured by a rainbow. It had been painted with bright colours, and was perfect. Hercules wasn't always good with words, not when there were so many that they filled his throat, choking him with emotion. But, he'd wanted to show how deeply he'd love the boy…and, he'd wanted to do this for the boy's father.

Iolaus blinked and looked up into the trees that shaded this quiet place and the three plots that sheltered here behind his cottage. It was peaceful, almost serene. There was a view from this spot, down over the back of his land to the valley and the forest, the sparkle of the creek in the distance. Once upon a time, he'd had a swing for two standing on this spot, for his beloved wife, Anya and himself, and he'd dug a small box of earth out of the ground to fill with sand for a child's play area. It was where they had all come when they were happiest, when Taras was just learning how to stand and walk, the simple family times that had meant so much. And, now, his family was all here, would forever be here, on the crest of the hill, in the shade of the gently rustling trees.

Sniffing, he wiped the back of his hand across his eyes, then rinsed the earth from his hands and standing, he picked up the sacking and the now empty chipped, clay jug to return to cottage. It was the silence that got to him the most. Silence…where not so long ago, a child's riotous giggles and high pitched shouts had filled the air, where years before a gentle woman's laugh and voice had called out to him, welcoming him home. But, Anya'd been gone eight years now, dead in childbirth, their second child following her within hours to the Other Side, leaving their first child in his care. Then, just a week ago, Taras too had gone to join his mother.

The hunter paused as he reached the edge of the cottage and turned back, leaning on the wooden wall as he gazed at the three raised plots of earth, his mind drifting back a little more than a week in time. He and Hercules had just returned from having dealt with the minotaur. Herc had been quiet and more than a little distraught to know the beast had been a half-brother, unnervingly like him in appearance before the evil had distorted his being, creating a monster. Iolaus, too, had been quieter than usual, allowing his friend the time and quiet to ponder all that had happened. Having been captured by the beast, and confined in that disgusting pod, Iolaus was dealing with his own horrors of the experience.

It had been the first 'adventure' Hercules had agreed to allow Iolaus to accompany him upon since before the hunter had married Anya. For years, Iolaus had not understood why Hercules had been so adamant about leaving him behind, so determined to not allow Iolaus to roam far from his home and hearth. But, this last time, Iolaus had prevailed, and Hercules had seemed glad to have him along. Taras was nine, old enough to be left with Alcmene, who'd loved him like her own grandchildren and his father had not worried about him, knowing he'd be having the time of his life playing with Herc's kids at their place near Alcmene's home.

But, when they'd returned, Alcmene had greeted them with a pale, haunted face, her lips trembling and hands shaking as she wondered how to tell Iolaus how sick his son had gotten a couple of days after they'd left. Pushing past her, Iolaus had raced to his son's side, falling to his knees beside the small cot to pull the fevered child into his arms.

"Poppa," Taras had whispered, his fever-dulled eyes lighting up, "you're home…."

"I'm here, kiddo, and everything's going to fine," Iolaus had murmured back, hugging the boy, kissing his hot, dry forehead before laying him back down to stroke his cheek and hold one of his small hands in his own.

But, everything hadn't been fine. It had just gotten worse, until the fever had devoured the energy from that sturdy little body, leaving the boy wasted and weak, struggling just to breathe. And, then, that struggle, too, had ended. Iolaus had been numb, unable to believe he'd lost his son, that there was nothing he could do to change the devastating reality. Briefly, he'd blamed himself for not having been there when the child fell ill, and he knew Hercules was consumed with guilt for having allowed him to leave in the first place. But, Alcmene and Deianeara had whispered solace and reason, helping them both to understand there was nothing they could have done. Terrible things happened. Illnesses stole children away. It was tragic, heartbreaking, but, ultimately, out of their hands.

For nights on end during Taras' illness and after he had died, Iolaus had had terrible nightmares. He saw fractured images of himself and Hercules battling strange creatures, felt the terrible tearing pain in his gut, saw and felt himself die, only to then be laughing at a dinner table with Anya, Alcmene and Hercules. He heard a taunting voice, jeering at him, screaming at him, louder and louder … 'dead men have no families'… and then he saw a peacock feather floating in the darkness.

At first, he didn't tell anyone. What did a bad dream matter when life itself was a nightmare?

But, two days after they'd buried Taras, Iolaus had been kneeling by his grave when Alcmene and Hercules had arrived, Herc bearing the marker. His best friend had affixed the wooden memorial in the earth and had stood back, squeezing his shoulder, then had walked away to lean on a tree, silent, unable to speak the words that clogged his throat and blurred his eyes. It had been Alcmene who had knelt by Iolaus and had put an arm around his shoulders, holding him quietly.

Though he didn't know why, Iolaus found himself sharing the haunting, horrible dream with the mother of his heart. She'd started to quietly reassure him that it meant nothing, was just a dreadful dream, when he'd looked up and seen the horror on Hercules' face, the stark, terrible awareness of the truth of it in his eyes.

"What?" Shaken by the look on his best friend's face, Iolaus had interrupted the reassuring stream of words, cutting over Alcmene's voice. "You know what it means, Herc," he'd said, not a question because it was only too clear Hercules understood the message of the dream, "…gods, please tell me."

Hercules had shook his head, looking away over the valley, a tremor passing through his body and he crossed his arms as if trying to hold some terrible pain inside. Alcmene's voice had died away, her face filled with confusion and anxiety as she and Iolaus knelt silently, watching Hercules struggle with what to say, whether to say anything at all. But, then, nodding a little as he decided Iolaus had the right to know, he'd looked back and in halting, barely audible words, had told Iolaus about Gargarencia, and all that had happened there. Alcmene had gasped, a hand going to her heart as her other arm tightened around his shoulders. Iolaus had just stared at Hercules for a long moment after his buddy had stopped speaking, the story tumbling over and over in his mind, matching up with scattered fragments of the dreams.

"That's why you never let me travel with you after that," Iolaus murmured then, more to himself than to his friend, finally understanding. But, then, the greater understanding of what it all meant crashed over him, and he'd moaned with the pain of it, curling forward onto his knees, his arms wrapped around his body.

Hera hadn't been able to stop Zeus from rolling back time, nor had she been able to stop Hercules from helping the village men find their own solution to the domination she'd held over the Amazons. But, she'd had her revenge, after all. 'Dead men have no families,' she'd crowed at him in the dream, exultant in her petty triumph. Iolaus had died. Therefore, he could have never married, never had sons. So, she'd taken them.

'Anya, gentle, sweet, Anya…and our sons…dead…because of me! Oh gods…oh gods! Nooo…,' Iolaus screamed in the silence of his mind, overwhelmed, horrified, shattered as he absorbed the meaning of the dream.

Nor did the curse stop there. Hera would take anyone he married, any children he might have in the future. It was her promise to him, her curse upon him, and any he woman he might ever love, any children he might ever have.

A shudder ripped through his slight frame, and he gagged with sick revulsion at what she'd done, feeling as though he might be violently ill. Gods, they'd died because of him. He'd thought in those moments that he might well go mad. But, Alcmene had held tightly onto him, and Hercules had come to wrap his arms around the both of them, murmuring brokenly over and over, "I'm sorry, Iolaus…I never meant for this to happen. Oh gods, I'm sorry…."

In his pain and despair, he'd been unable to speak, just rocked back and forth, dimly aware of the keening sound of a soul in torment, rising on the wind around them. But, gradually, he'd realized the sound was coming from him, a lost, lonely wail of horror, and had silenced himself, choking it back. The sun had moved a handspan before he could actually make out their words as they held him, before he was once again aware of the world around him. Gradually, his rocking stilled and, finally, he sighed, a long breath of unutterable despair.

He hadn't cried, his eyes were dry…the shock was too great, the pain too vast. Hercules' agonized whispers penetrated the fog, the sound of Alcmene's anguished sobs of grief…swallowing, Iolaus sighed again, knowing that he was not the only one here who was suffering. The two people with him were all he had left of those he had loved best in the world. He couldn't bear the sound of their pain on his account.

Swallowing, he'd turned then to Hercules to break into his friend's litany of sorrow, saying quietly, with unnatural calm, "No, Herc…none of this is your fault. Stop saying you're sorry. Stop feeling so… responsible. Gods, you gave my life back to me. There is no way you could have known, could have anticipated this, anymore than I could have. She did this, out of malice and anger."

Hercules bit his lip as he gazed into those incredible blue eyes, seeing the pain that Iolaus was trying so hard to keep inside, but no censure. He looked away, shaking his head a little, overwhelmed by the tragedy, sickened by what she had done to Iolaus. Iolaus didn't blame him, but the demigod couldn't help wondering if there had been something he could have done, should have realized….Gods, this was a nightmare.

Iolaus touched Hercules on the shoulder, knowing that nothing he could say would ever make Herc believe that this wasn't, somehow, his fault. He took a deep breath, steeling himself to face all that it meant…had meant already and would mean for him in the future. His family was gone because a goddess had decided he should be punished for being alive. His eyes turned to gaze on the graves, then lifted to the bright, clear sky, accepting there was nothing more he could ever do for them, filled with unfathomable sorrow that it had been his love which had sealed their fates. Ah gods, they'd been so gentle, so blameless and innocent. And, he'd loved them so much.

"Anya, the kids…she can't hurt them anymore. And, she can't take away the happiness we had together, if only for a while. They are safe from her now. But…I can't ever let her do this to anyone again. I…" Iolaus' voice had cracked as he vowed, "I'll never let Hera kill someone because of me again."

"Iolaus!" Alcmene had cut in, recognizing what he was saying, that he would never allow himself love, or a family ever again. "You don't know…you can't mean…."

But, he'd turned to her, hugging her tightly, unconscious of the tears on his face, as he soothed her, knowing her heart was breaking for him because of her understanding of how much he'd always wanted a family of his own to cherish. "Shhh," he'd murmured to her, wanting to be strong for them, "it's all right. I have you, and Hercules, Deianeara and their children to love, and who love me. More family, better family, than many men are ever blessed with. And, I have my memories…she can't take them from me. I'll be all right, Alcmene."

But, she shook her head, denying the brave words, knowing too well the heart of this sensitive, gentle, caring man, knowing the terrible price of loneliness he would pay because of Hera's horrible curse. He didn't want Hercules suffering for having saved his life. Didn't want her or anyone else worrying about him, he never had. "Oh, child," she whispered brokenly, "you have only ever deserved love…I hate what she's done to you, and to them." Alcmene's eyes slid to the graves and then back to hold his. "I know how much this hurts you, Iolaus…I can't stand it that I can't take away the pain."

It was her love that broke through the fragile barriers he'd hastily built, the walls to contain his own suffering, to hide it and keep it from hurting those who loved him…her love that freed him to grieve the tragedy of it all. A sob rose from the depths of his heart, shuddering through him, shattering him, and he had wept then, burying his face on her shoulder, being rocked in her arms. He wept, for all that was, and was gone, and all that could never be.

Hercules watched, tears streaming down his own face. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say. Iolaus needed his, their, mother right then, needed to just let himself go. Silently, the big man pushed himself to his feet. He gripped Iolaus' shoulder for a moment, then turned and walked away.

* * *

Shaking his head, Iolaus turned away from the graves, and put the sacking on a pile by the door, carrying the jug inside the cool, dim interior of his small, simple cottage. Leaving the jug on a work table under a window, he restlessly turned and headed back into the sunlight to cross to the side of his hilltop property to look down the long hill. He could see the road that wound to Thebes in the west and Alcmene's house, just visible beyond a rise, to the east. Slightly to the north, he could make out the roof of Hercules' homestead. Leaning on a tree, he stared out across the land, his mind roaming back over the years.

As children, he and Hercules had played over these hills and in the forest beyond. They'd known every blade of grass, every secret hiding place and had shared them, playing, dreaming of the heroes they'd be when they grew up. It had been in that little house just over the rise, that Hercules and Alcmene had saved him with their love, healed wounds both physical and emotional that he'd won at home at the hands of his father. Saved him from becoming lost and bitter, from hating a world that an abused child could so easily only view with anger, could see only as a cold and cruel existence, believing life was a torment, people not to be trusted, afraid to risk love. He learned happiness there, and what it felt like to be safe. He'd found the unconditional love his child's soul had needed to believe there could be something better in his future than what he'd known in his past. And, when he'd been on the edge, poised between crime and decency, they'd stood by him, rescued him, and set him on the road to the man he'd become. They would never know how much he loved them, or owed them. It was a debt that he'd carry to the grave, and gladly repay with every breath he ever took, knowing it could never be enough.

His eyes lifting to Herc's homestead, he remembered, with a deep ache of loss, all that they had once shared. There had been a time when they'd been virtually inseparable…'a time'? Gods, for most of their lives that had been true. Hercules had gifted him with absolute and unconditional trust, abiding and unshakable respect, honoured him with the gift of a friendship that had transformed his life...had in many ways given him a life, a purpose, a worth beyond anything he believed he had ever merited. He still could scarcely believe that Hercules could ever have cared for him so profoundly, but through his constant belief, and Alcmene's, they had allowed Iolaus to feel some measure of self-respect, blasting away the self-loathing that had haunted his soul.

And, now, he knew that Herc had given him even more. He had been dead. But, Hercules had found a way to bring him back again. Begging his father for a favour he'd never ask for himself, getting Zeus to turn back time and erase the fact that Iolaus had been killed to give him another chance to share in the miracle of life. Hercules had given him the gift of life. Gods, how could he ever repay that, ever be worthy of such a miracle?

And, how had he repaid it?

Iolaus' head bent and he studied the ground, lost in his thoughts. He and Hercules had been virtually inseparable until Iolaus had met Anya. That was when it had all changed between them. Swept away by something he'd not experienced before, lost in love with the woman with whom he wanted to share his life, Iolaus had thought he owed it to Anya to be faithful to her, and to be there for her. Oh, other men left their wives, their families, for long, even indefinite periods, to travel as merchants or warriors, but Iolaus had grown up in a house where the wife and children had come second and sometimes even seemed to be despised. He'd vowed to himself that his own family would never have cause to doubt his love or loyalty, his commitment to them. When he'd offered Anya his life, he'd meant it in every sense of the word. He didn't intend to continue his almost constant ramblings with his best friend after he married.

Thinking back, he remembered now that, though he'd meant to share this decision with Hercules, it had never actually been discussed. Before his marriage, knowing what he knew now, he guessed he'd grabbed the last chance he thought they'd have for one last adventure and insisted on the opportunity of accompanying Hercules to Gargarencia, but, he hadn't remembered that, not until now. So, so far as he had known, he'd just let things drift, had even avoided Hercules to some extent. After the marriage, Hercules had simply left without even saying 'good-bye'. Iolaus had been oblivious at first, caught up in the euphoria of his love for Anya. But, after a time, while the love never died, he couldn't help but become aware of how little he saw of Hercules anymore. The next time the demigod had come home, he'd tried to talk about it with his friend, but Herc had just waved the conversation off, laughing a little uneasily, protesting that Iolaus had better things to do now.

Finally, feeling guilty for having virtually abandoned his friend, Iolaus won a promise that Herc would let him know before heading out to something really dangerous, like taking on a bunch of monsters, (or even one), or trying to stop a war…something big like that. But, he hadn't really been concerned, hadn't really ever considered that Hercules had ever needed him, not really. Hercules had looked off to the horizon, and nodded quietly, agreeing finally. But, somehow, such a pressing need had never arisen.

So far as Iolaus had ever known, he might have been the one who pulled back from their partnership first, but it hadn't seemed to really faze Herc…his buddy had just carried blithely on without him. Now, Iolaus knew why Herc had never found a serious enough reason to warrant asking for his help…or at least, had never admitted to one, not only while Anya had lived, but for many, many years after she'd died. Hercules had been protecting him, as always, refusing to risk Iolaus' life, refusing to risk again what had happened in Gargarencia. Sighing, he shook his head as he looked across the fields. It had ever been so…Hercules protecting him, never really needing him.

About a year after Iolaus had married Anya, Hercules had met Deianeara, and had married her. Iolaus smiled a little to himself, profoundly glad his friend had found a woman worthy of his love. They shared a passion and a joy together that was palpable, and now they had three great kids, Ilea having been born the winter before. Iolaus was happy for Hercules, and begrudged him nothing. There was no room for jealousy in his soul, no resentment that Herc could have what he now knew was denied to himself. Love, a family. No room…all the space was already taken up and overflowing with the love that was there, always had been there, for the demigod.

But, there was no denying, Hercules' marriage had created new boundaries between them. When Anya had died, leaving him with a child not yet two years old, Iolaus had needed his friend badly. For comfort, for companionship. Just to have someone to laugh with. He'd felt an almost desperate need to reach out to Hercules, to be the partner he'd once been, sharing in the everyday aspects of life, needing to not feel so alone. But, he'd never given any sign, never so much as a hint to his best friend of his feelings. Herc had his own family now, and Iolaus had no intention of intruding upon his life, asking for a return to the inseparable closeness they'd known in their childhood and youth.

Besides, Iolaus reflected sadly, he too had still had a family then. Taras had been the centre of his world, the reason he got up in the morning, the reason he lived. Gods, he'd been such a great kid, so bright and funny, always wanting to help, always laughing. Such a scamp, getting into everything, endlessly curious and brave in the way of children who never consider the possibility of danger, only the possibility of adventure. He'd been dark, like Anya, and so beautiful. Innocent, trusting. Iolaus had been proud of him, had loved him so much, more than simple words could ever begin to convey, and he always would.

But, now, Taras, too, was gone.

What did a man do who ached to give love when there was no one there to receive it? How could he live in a home populated only by ghosts and memories? It had been eight years since he'd felt loving hands touch him, eight years of devoting his life to his child, and trying to wrest a living for them from the unforgiving rocky hillside that was his allotment. Eight years…and now, how many more? How long was a life? He could have no family of his own. He hated farming. And, the life he'd known before, in his youth, was no longer available to him. Taking a deep breath, lifting his head to look again across the valley to the distant roofline, Iolaus knew that he'd have to live with the loneliness, the emptiness. He couldn't reach out to Hercules, couldn't intrude upon his friend's commitment to his own family just because his life was over and he needed to cling to what had been before…a partnership that had defined his life for so long. It wouldn't be right, wouldn't be decent. It would only be selfish.

He sighed as he turned back to look at the cottage. He couldn't bear to live this way, with ghosts on the hill, no hope of a family and the one person he would willingly devote his life to now committed to his own family, a different future. Life here, now, was a kind of torture and with the pain of Taras' loss so fresh, Iolaus didn't think he had the strength to endure it. He'd give himself away…and only hurt Hercules in the process. Because, he had no expectation that Herc felt the same draw of their old, easy friendship, or hungered for the adventures they'd once shared. No, Hercules was more than content…he reveled in his family and his home. But, Iolaus knew Hercules would be devastated to think Iolaus needed something of him that he was no longer able, or wanting, to give.

The sun was setting, and the wind was whispering through the trees when Iolaus finally went back to the cottage, finally having decided what he had to do. He couldn't bear to stay alone inside, so he dragged out his old bedroll and lay beside his family, sharing a last night with them under the stars. When the sun came up, he set about stuffing what he needed into his pack and secured the house, closing the door quietly behind him. Standing for a moment by the graves, he whispered a broken farewell, then hitched the pack over his shoulder, turning to head down the long hill, first to say good-bye to Alcmene, and then to head to Hercules' place, to let him and Deianeara know that he'd be going away.

* * *

"What do you mean, you're leaving…why? Where are you going?" Hercules asked in a rush of words, his expression only too clearly revealing his stunned disbelief. As if he needed the support, he leaned unconsciously on the pitchfork he'd been using to shift piles of straw in the barn, just one of the endless chores on a farm, slowly shaking his head in denial.

"Whoa!" Iolaus replied, trying to keep his voice steady, reaching for a reassuring smile, holding his hands up against the speed and number of questions being thrown at him. "It's not like I'll never be back. It's just that…well, I need a little space, Herc. The house feels too empty right now. So, I thought I'd travel a bit, head east maybe, see some places I've never been before."

Frowning, Hercules tossed the pitchfork away and moved closer to his friend, studying him, seeing past the strained smile to the pain in his buddy's eyes. "Iolaus…I know it's hard. But, you need to be around people who care about you right now. I'm not sure this is such a great idea," he said thoughtfully, worried.

Iolaus's eyes dropped and he chewed on his lip a bit before responding. Finally, looking up again, he replied quietly, as honestly as he could. "I'll be all right, Herc…don't worry. But, I," his voice cracked a bit and he had to pause to regain control of it, once again looking away while he swallowed almost convulsively. "I need to do this. I need some time to think about who I am now."

Hands on his hips, Hercules looked at the ground, then up and around as he tried to find the words to keep Iolaus from leaving. Wondering if he should, or if he was just being selfish. Though their relationship had changed over the years, Iolaus was still the anchor in his life, the foundation that held him secure, no matter what. Oh, he'd grown up, got married, had a family and was on the way to becoming a legend, much to his personal chagrin, and he was happy with his life. But somewhere deep inside, he knew he still needed Iolaus, counted on him always being there for him. It was the last thought that let the demigod know he was truly reacting out of his own needs, not really thinking about what Iolaus might need just then.

Sighing, Hercules looked back at his best friend. "How long will you be gone?" he asked quietly, hoping for an answer like a week or so…but, the east, places they'd never been…that could be a long way away.

Iolaus shook his head a little as he shrugged. "I don't really know. As long as I need to be gone, I guess," he said, his eyes asking for understanding.

Swallowing, Hercules pushed for the answer he needed to have, needed to hold onto. "But…you will be back, right?"

His buddy took a deep breath as he nodded, replying quietly, "Yeah." Then, knowing Hercules needed it from him, he conjured up a reassuring grin as he added, "I promise."

Feeling awkward, Iolaus scuffed a boot on the earth, then looked up and around as he asked, "Will you explain to Deianeara for me, and the kids…give 'em a hug for me?"

"Yeah," Hercules sighed, his voice low, almost flat as he tried to contain his own emotion. Suddenly, he moved toward Iolaus to pull his friend into a tight hug, as he murmured, "Just remember, you have a family who loves you…and we'll be here, waiting for you, watching for your return. Okay?"

Iolaus pressed his eyes closed over the sudden wetness, and nodded his head against Hercules shoulder as he hugged his best friend right back. "I'll remember…I wouldn't want to ever forget," he whispered. "Thanks…for everything."

Hercules gave a brief, tight nod, then stepped back, his hands still on Iolaus' shoulders as he searched his friend's eyes. "You'll be careful, send word every once in a while, so we'll know you're alright?" he listed his demands, pleas as much as commands.

Unsure if he could trust his voice, Iolaus nodded, then stepped back out of Hercules' grip. Taking a deep breath, he forced a small smile, lifted a hand to grip Herc's arm, then turned away, hitching his pack more securely on his shoulder as he strode down the lane without a backward glance.

Hercules stood silently, watching him until he was out of sight…watching the place he had last been until Deianeara called him for the mid-day meal. "I'll miss you," he whispered quietly to the air, then turned to tell his wife that their friend had gone away, perhaps for a very long time.

It was only later, when they each replayed the moments in their memories, that the heroes each realized that neither of them had actually been able to say 'good-bye'.

* * *

Iolaus strode steadily over fields, across valleys, up through forests and along mountain passes, moving forward as quickly as he could lest what was behind overcome his determination to go, and pull him back. Leaving everything he knew, everyone he loved, was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. But, it was the right thing to do, and that thought kept him going.

He caught a ship and sailed across the Aegean, spending the first two days at sea leaning on the rail by the stern and looking back the way they'd come. But, then, he physically forced himself to move to the ship's bow, to look forward, toward where he was going. Somewhere different, new, unknown. Where no one knew him, or had any expectations of him. Where there'd be no memories everywhere he looked, tearing at him, pulling him apart.

It took him a long time to realize that memories were baggage he could never leave behind…nor, as he'd told Hercules, did he ever really want to. Because for all the fact that they hurt, those memories were all that he carried of those he had loved best…of the one who would somehow always mean more than his life to him.

Restless from endless days at sea, when they hit port on the far eastern shores of the Mediterranean, he strode off the deck. Ambling through the busy town, he soaked up the hot sun and the sound of different voices, absorbing the exotic smells, distracted by the colours, the architecture…everything was so different from what he had known back home.

But, he didn't stop. He was searching for something, though he didn't know what it was…hoped it was a kind of peace that was out there somewhere, if he could just find it. He chatted up local traders, using gestures, and drawing pictures, until he picked up enough of the local lingo to make himself understood for simple needs, like food and shelter.

Tagging along with a caravan, he headed further east, across rolling hills of green, covered with goats and sheep, herded by a people called bedouin. The camels stank, and were mean-tempered, but he learned to stay upwind and well away from their jaws and hooves. The children were like children everywhere, some quiet and shy, some boisterous, all curious, all wide-eyed and essentially trusting given half a chance. So he laughed, told stories with his hands and expressions until he learned their words, teased and joked, making them laugh in their turn.

His name was strange to them, and they found the sound odd on their lips, though they learned to say it. But, they had their own names for him after a time…The Laughing One, the children called him. Golden Warrior, the men chose, noting his sword, the way he moved and watched the horizon, his skill and daring courage when they'd had to fight off bandits on several occasions over the course of their long journey. Touched by the Sun, the women called him, finding his blond, sun-bronzed fair looks exotic and appealing, the name a hope as much as an appellation, though they hoped in vain. But, the old ones who watched him, and spoke of him, called him Sad Eyes, seeing the haunted shadows there, and wondering about them. But, most often, they all simply called him Friend…and he was touched by the name, once he'd learned its meaning.

Weeks turned into months, and he learned they were traveling something called the Spice Route. Leaving the green, lightly forested, rolling hills behind, hills that in the centuries to come would erode into desert wastelands, they climbed up into high, austere mountains, then back down, following rivers, to the strange, mystical land in the far east. He learned the taste of even stranger foods, and came to appreciate the sharp flavours, the mingling of scent and texture. He even learned to eat with sticks, though the children rolled over laughing the first few times he tried.

Finally, the caravan came to the end of its journey, exchanging gold and silver, carpets made by the women, spices of their own world, for the different treasures of the east. While the traders were making their deals, Iolaus wandered the strange city of yellow people with dark, slanted eyes, feeling for the first time in his life like a tall man as he looked over crowded market squares, his view not blocked by others. The cadences of the language intrigued him…it sounded like a kind of music, as if they sang their words. He strolled with no particular direction in mind, simply taking it all in, marveling at the infinite diversity of humanity, smiling at it with a kind of wonder.

During his rambles on the second afternoon, he came upon a temple, and in the open square men were engaged in ritual movements, slow and exact, practiced and beautiful, full of balance and poise. Stopping, enthralled, he watched for more than an hour, and then the exercises changed, as men engaged in a kind of combat he'd never seen before. Frowning, he tried to make it out, tried to figure out what was so different…and then it hit him. They did not oppose, they defended. They didn't attack, or even resist, but flowed with the force, mastering it, never losing their balance or poise.

Intrigued, he watched for the rest of the afternoon, and then returned the next day. He'd seen enough the first day to have noted that size or strength were not determining factors so much as assets that could be used to their own benefit and purpose. Big, small, it didn't seem to matter, one didn't have an advantage over the other. It was all about skill, balance and movement. Though the spoken words had been unintelligible to him, the language of the bodies he watched spoke volumes, and he wanted to learn more.

Unable to stay away, he returned again the third day, standing quietly, watching, frowning a little as he concentrated. He moved a little unconsciously as his body tried to assimilate what his eyes were observing, oblivious to all else around him. Consequently, he was unaware that he'd attracted attention in his own right until a voice spoke quietly beside him. "You seem fascinated, my child. Your strength of concentration is almost trance-like."

"What?" Iolaus jerked, startled, as he turned to see a wizened old man peering up at him, but not particularly surprised that the man had addressed him in the language of the traders. He'd come to accept that people in areas of contact learned each other's tongue…it was the same in Greece, and those they dealt with, the Minoans, Cretans, Macedonians, Egyptians and Romans. "Oh, sorry," he explained quietly in their common language, looking back at the dance-like moves, "it's just that I've never seen anything like this before… and, yes, I do find it fascinating."

The old man nodded as he studied the golden stranger. "You are a warrior," he observed.

Iolaus grinned a little as he nodded, "Yeah, sometimes, when I have to be."

"Only when you have to be?" the old man challenged, unconvinced. "To watch so intently, to be trying to learn with no guidance, a kind of desperation in itself, speaks of more than a casual or reluctant interest."

Laughing lightly, his eyes dancing with appreciation of the old man's assessment, Iolaus nodded, not offended by the challenge. "Alright, yes, I've been trained as a warrior…and, truthfully, I like to fight. But, I don't look for fights…I, well, I have the skills that can sometimes help people who are in trouble. You know, vulnerable? Not able to defend themselves. I help when I can," he explained, a little embarrassed. Somehow, in words, it sounded more noble than of how he thought of himself and it made him uncomfortable.

"I see," reflected the old man placidly but curious. "And, there is something here that you feel could help you? Something you are willing, even perhaps eager, to learn?"

"Yeah," sighed Iolaus, turning back to watch. "Where I come from, I'm not a big man, and that can be a real disadvantage in battle. But, they way they move, size doesn't seem to matter. Nor does absolute strength of body. It's more…I don't know…strength of purpose? A way of deflecting the strength of the other? No…that's not it. A way of using the strength of the other, leveraging it somehow…a kind of flow. I don't know," he laughed again, throwing up his hands, "I feel like I should understand, but…it's so different from anything I've seen before, been taught before."

His dark eyes inscrutable, the old one shook his head as he replied, "Do not apologize for not yet grasping what you have no means of understanding, for you have not been taught. But, neither deny or diminish the powers of your perception…you have already understood more than many see in a lifetime."

Iolaus shrugged a little, and sighed, "Well, uh, thanks, I guess. It's just that it's frustrating, you know. I've no one to teach me any of this…so, I'll leave, and always wonder what I might have been able to learn here."

"Must you leave?" the man asked, looking away toward the temple.

Startled, Iolaus waved a careless hand as he answered, "Well, eventually. I promised my…family that I'd come home again."

Nodding, the old man turned to gaze at him silently for a moment, weighing something in his mind, wondering. There was an old saying that when the student was ready, the teacher would appear. In a way he didn't quite understand, he felt as if he had found his newest student, and that it was important somehow. There was a quality in this strange, golden-haired man from the far western lands that intrigued him, more, that he felt was of great significance and that it was his duty to be of help.

Finally, he said quietly, "If you can spare me three months, until the next caravan comes and is ready to depart to the west, I could perhaps teach you, if you wish."

Iolaus tilted his head and crossed his arms as he turned to study this strange old guy, and the completely unexpected and unlooked for opportunity he was presenting for consideration. The warrior's blue eyes grew thoughtful as he gazed at the man, absently noting his skin, the colour of old ivory, surprisingly smooth despite his evident great age, his still black hair, long and pulled tightly into a single braid at the back of his neck. The guy was tiny, and looked frail, bony and thin, his clothing faded, well worn and hanging loose around his body. But, there was something about his eyes, an intensity and a depth that spoke of hidden truths, great wisdom.

Iolaus' face unconsciously emptied of expression as he considered the possibilities of what was being offered to him, and though he couldn't have explained it if his life had depended upon it, he felt drawn toward the man, excited by the opportunity of learning from him. Though, with a slight flash of concern in his eyes, he worried he might hurt the old guy if they were to practice together the moves he'd been watching the others perform.

"Thank you," he replied quietly, with a trace of wonder even humility, in his voice, touched by the generous offer. "I would be very grateful for that. But, I have no means of paying you…or for paying for a room or food for that matter. I've been working my way with the caravan."

The old one's face was austere, though there was a hint of a smile deep in his eyes, as he bowed his head solemnly. "My name is Yu-lin, and I will be your teacher. Here," he waved with a graceful gesture, "our learning and our work is the same. We seek balance and enlightenment. We seek not to prevail or resist, but to find a different place, a different way. We seek, finally, to accept what we cannot understand, but in accepting what is beyond our power we also commit to a greater awareness of being in the world, knowing that it is resistance that traps us and acceptance which sets us free."

"I don't understand," Iolaus admitted ruefully, shaking his head, his hands on his hips.

"I know," his teacher acknowledged, "but, in time, perhaps, you will."

* * *

"He's all right," Deianeara murmured as she gently rubbed her husband's back. Hercules was once again looking off down the lane, silent but with a tension she could not miss.

"There's been no word," Hercules replied quietly with a sigh. "I worry about him."

"I know," his wife acknowledged. "And, you miss him."

"Yeah…I do," he sighed, finally turning away from the empty view to take her into his arms. "I wish he'd come home."

Deianeara smiled softly as she leaned against the man she loved with her whole heart, and understood better than he seemed to understand himself. Had she been a less confident woman, both in herself, and in his love for her, she might have been threatened, even jealous, of the unusual depth of feeling Hercules had for the man who'd been his closest friend since they'd been children. Though she didn't fully understand all that Iolaus meant to her husband, she did know that in some profound way, Iolaus and Hercules were linked by an inseparable bond. When Iolaus was absent, part of Hercules was missing, too. "He will. He promised."

* * *

Iolaus scribbled off a quick note to Hercules, wondering if it would ever get to his friend, and entrusted it to the head driver of the caravan. Bidding a hasty, but heartfelt, farewell to his friends, he hitched his pack over his shoulder and made his way to his new residence, a small cell furnished only with a grass mat in the temple. He had no idea what he was doing, really, but couldn't deny the odd compulsion inside that made him certain that this was right, that somehow he'd been meant to find his way here.

The first month, he wasn't sure he'd ever understand the old man's strange way of 'being', as he called it. Nor, as he rubbed aching muscles and bruises at night, was he at all certain he'd ever learn how not to be thrown ignominiously time after time into the dirt, by a guy more than twice his age and half his size. His teacher was amazing, endlessly patient, endlessly calm…and endlessly relentless. Iolaus was having to unlearn almost everything he had ever learned about how to fight. Cheiron had given him some very useful tips on how to use his size to advantage, but that had still been in the context of being the aggressor, or of resisting aggression. His 'resistance' was reflexive, ingrained and completely unconscious. So, he was having to learn new habits, a different way of standing and moving, of assessing threat and opportunity.

But, while Iolaus was sometimes discouraged, Yu-lin was vastly encouraged. For where Iolaus saw his own resistance getting in his way, Yu-lin saw his acceptance and submission to the idea that there was a different way…and saw his determination to learn, even if it killed him. While Iolaus felt awkward and off balance, juvenile even in his inability to succeed, Yu-lin saw him explore new moves and positions, repeating them endlessly, patiently, until he had mastered them. Iolaus felt stupid and slow, frustrated by his inability to understand, but Yu-lin recognized strength of character and commitment…and the courage to fail without being defeated.

Early in the second month, Iolaus caught the feel of the flow, going with the force, absorbing it, manipulating it rather than resisting it, and he laughed in the sheer exhilaration of the moment. Yu-lin couldn't resist a dry chuckle in response. The sound was warm and infectious, bubbling and effervescent like a child's giggles, and he'd heard it too little so far. Though Iolaus never complained, and rarely did he raise his voice, except when cursing himself, and while he'd chuckle quietly with amusement, usually at his own expense, until now, the joyful and unselfconscious laughter had been absent. Wise before he'd become old, Yu-lin had seen the shadows in his student's eyes, though they were well masked. There was tremendous pain within the soul of this man, though he carried it well, never burdening others.

The pain would have to be addressed, the teacher thought silently as they continued working through the second month, until Iolaus had attained a certain mastery of a new, physical way of being in the world. But, despite the truly amazing progress his student was making, the teacher knew the pain was at the heart of the resistance that Iolaus had to overcome if he was to master this new way of 'being' in a more complete way…if he was to find his way along the path Yu-lin was trying to illuminate for him.

On the third day of the third month, Yu-lin led Iolaus to a walled garden instead of to the exercise square at the front of the temple. Gesturing, he indicated his student was to sit on a stone bench in the shade of a flowering magnolia tree, its scent lightly perfuming the warm air, the only sound the humming of the bees and the quiet song of some far off birds. Yu-lin sat beside him, not looking at him, quiet and serene.

The silence grew, persisted, until Iolaus became restless, his eyes darting around the garden, his lips curling into a soft smile at the beauty of it and of the birdsong. It was restful, nice. But, he wondered what they were doing there.

"What do you hear?" Yu-lin finally asked, very aware and not a little amused by the twitching of the man beside him. Iolaus, for all his maturity and strength, shared many characteristics with children, including an inability to keep still for any length of time.

"Birds, bees…the wind," Iolaus replied, having long ago learned his teacher preferred direct and specific responses.

"Ah…yes," Yu-lin nodded. "Listen more closely, my child. Let me know when you hear the sound of your heart over the sound of your breathing," his teacher directed, then lapsed back into silence.

Iolaus' brows rose in surprise, wondering what this was all about, but dutifully, he sat back, trying to get comfortable and concentrated on paying attention to the sound of his own breathing…trying to hear the sound of his own heartbeat. The day grew warm, and though he tried to remain still, having noticed that such capacity for tranquility was highly prized here, he twitched again, ever restless. Yu-lin laid a quiet, yet strong, hand on his leg, just above his knee, settling him.

Chastened, Iolaus closed his eyes, lightly clasped his hands, his feet resting squarely on the ground. Holding his head steady, he listened, but the birds distracted him and a bee buzzed near his ear, causing him to wave it away.

"You're not listening," Yu-lin chided him gently.

Sighing, Iolaus murmured, trying to make a joke of it, "I'm trying, but I can't hear my heart. Maybe I don't have one."

His teacher turned to him then, black eyes penetrating, probing the blue. "Oh, you have a heart, my child …it is what defines your being, what most see when they look at you. It cannot be hidden. But, it is heavy and it fights itself, holding its sound within tightly, lest its screaming deafen others, its pain crush them."

Shocked by the unexpected and far too perceptive words, Iolaus looked away, his head shaking unconsciously. Swallowing to moisten a mouth and throat suddenly dry, he stammered, "But…how do you see…? I can't…"

"You've learned much, my child and if you left today, you would take skills and awareness with you that you did not have when you came here. But, if you left today, you would also still be carrying that burden that is weighing you down…and which I believe will kill you one day, if not your body, then your soul. You have learned not to resist the world, and that is good. But, now, you need to learn how not to resist yourself, what you feel, or it will defeat and destroy you."

Silently, his head bowed, Iolaus shook his head. He hadn't expected this, didn't know how to respond. Shutting pain away, denying it, ignoring it, pretending it wasn't there…these were the lessons he'd learned as a child, and relied upon as a man, to survive. He didn't know another way.

"Do you trust me?" Yu-lin asked. "Completely, without reservation?"

Sighing, Iolaus looked up and turned toward the old man who saw more than he ever wanted anyone to see. "Yes," he said quietly. "I do."

"Tell me your story," Yu-lin directed, again sitting back, his head turned aside, patient, listening.

Swallowing, taking a deep breath, Iolaus launched into the facts of his life story. Because he was an honest man and did trust his teacher without reservation, he told him everything of what he'd done in his life, of what had happened to him, and of the people who had shaped who he was.

When he'd fallen silent, sitting tensely waiting for his teacher's reaction, Yu-lin nodded quietly to himself, his eyes closed. "Now," the teacher said, "tell me your story again…but, this time, tell me what you have felt, what you still feel."

So, Iolaus launched into a more colourful version of the tale, wryly recounting some of the less wonderful events and experiences of his youth, masking the pain with humour and bravado. When it came to those he loved, he was gentler, giving them full credit for having the depth and capacity to love even someone as hopeless as himself. Hercules, well, he found himself talking about how much he admired his friend, trusted him, respected him above all others. Alcmene he described as an angel, one of those mythical beings of consummate gentleness and light. When he spoke of Anya, and his children, he spoke lightly of the good times, how grateful he was that they'd been in his life. And, then, again, he waited.

"Better," Yu-lin murmured quietly, "but, now I want to hear the pain of what your past and these people mean to you, the full measure of what you feel."

Iolaus stared at the man, his mouth a little agape as the request sank in. Turning aside, he looked up into the clear cloudless sky, numbly shaking his head, searching for the words and coming up against waves of anguish that he fought to force away, back, down. Fighting not to drown, he felt choked, unable to respond.

Because, even the good things, the good memories carried such pain.

The anger and pain of betrayal and rejection he'd felt from his parents. The horror of what Hera had done to his family, his impotent rage and guilt. The emptiness of knowing he had to fear and avoid ever having another family lest he cause yet more death. The longing he felt for Hercules, the life they'd shared in their youth, and could never acknowledge because if he did, he didn't think he could live with the loneliness or the rejection he knew he'd see in Herc's eyes. Even Alcmene, who couldn't ever know how rotten he was inside, the terrible things he'd done, the memories that he carried around that festered like some foul growth.

Finally, he choked out quietly, "I can't."

"You can," Yu-lin said relentlessly. "You must if you are to do more than merely survive."

Turning on his teacher, Iolaus cried out, his voice ragged with anger, anguish and helplessness, "You don't know…I…my father…beat me. And, my mother…never defended me. I must have deserved it. I must be something wretched deep down to deserve that…and I…hate them for hating me. I know children don't ever deserve that, but I feel as if I'm some kind of disgusting creature, that doesn't deserve to live. Doesn't deserve love. So…when others, so good, and pure…care about me, it scares me. I'm afraid I'll hurt them. And…I'm afraid someday to see in their eyes, what I saw in my father's eyes when he looked at me. And, the worst of it is, he was right. I am good for nothing. Worse. My life cost my wife's life, and my children's lives. Their deaths were the price that had to be paid because I'm still breathing. Do you have any idea how that feels?"

Iolaus turned away, hotly aware of the tears that had begun to stream down his face as he brusquely, impatiently, wiped them away, hearing the echo of his father's voice. Crybaby. What right did he have to cry when it was others who had been so badly hurt, killed? He sat there, trembling in the sunlight, no longer feeling its warmth. "Hera, the Queen of the Greek Gods, decreed that price must be paid," he continued bitterly. "Decreed that I am a 'dead man' and dead men have no families. So, I can never risk other lives again, by loving them. I HATE her, what she's done to them, to me. And, there's nothing I can do about it. Except endure it. And go on. Or give up and die. Lately, I've wondered why I bother trying to stay alive."

He sniffed, panting hard, shaking now, fighting the sobs that clogged his throat.

When he remained silent, Yu-lin waited. But, after a long pause, he probed, "And, Hercules? His mother, Alcmene? What of them?"

Iolaus shuddered, biting back a moan of despair. "Alcmene…loves me, has always loved me. But, I don't know why, except maybe for Herc's sake, because I'm his friend. She's always let me know that she thinks I'm special, but I'm not. So, I live my life trying to prove her belief in me is right, trying never to disappoint her." He sniffed again, and rubbed his face with his hands, pushing them back through his hair. "I'm so afraid of letting her down, and I know I will…I'm not the wonderful, good person she sees. I'm… not good, far from it. I've been a thief, I've done terrible things," he said bluntly, sparing himself nothing. Sighing, he continued wearily, "She deserves better than that for what she gives, what she's done for me all my life. I'm so afraid of hurting her, disappointing her."

"And Hercules?" Yu-lin prompted again, relentless when Iolaus again fell silent.

Iolaus curled forward, his arms wrapped around himself as if he could hold the pain inside, trap it there if he tried hard enough. Shaking his head, his voice tight with desperation, he whispered, "I…can't."

"Let it go, Iolaus," Yu-lin counseled quietly. "Stop resisting it…release the pain, so that it can release its hold on you."

"No," whispered Iolaus, not wanting to talk about this, wanting distance, finally slipping from the bench to sit curled tightly on the ground, his knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them, head down, blinded by tears he tried to blink back, clenching his jaw against the truth of what he felt, what could destroy him if he faced it.

"Tell me," Yu-lin persisted, his voice still calm, even remote.

Shuddering, Iolaus bit his lip, shook his head but forced himself to continue, driven by the trust he felt for this old man, his teacher's belief that somehow this mattered. "I loved Anya, she was sweet, and gentle and so very kind. She deserved so much better than to die for the likes of me," he murmured, guilt heavy in his voice, for her death, for not having loved her as completely as he believed he should have. "But she was never a part of me…when she died, and the years after, I…felt so guilty. I…can't explain it even to myself, but I never missed her as much as I should have. Never as much as I missed…Hercules, being with him, traveling with him, helping people, backing him up. I don't understand it but…I feel…I feel as if Hercules is my soul. I…love him so much. I can't…there aren't words for what I feel. Herc…he doesn't…I…," his voice broke before in the midst of his aching, gnawing, empty grief that was somehow all consuming.

Panting hard, shaking with it, he whispered his loss, "Hercules doesn't either need…or want…want the life we used to have. He doesn't need, never needed me, the way I need him. But, I can't imagine any life without him in it. Sometimes I think that he is my life. As if I don't really exist without him. What scares me, is that I don't want to…."

Iolaus shifted restlessly, honestly trying to convey what he felt while not really understanding it himself. Continuing softly, hesitantly, he said, "I'm not sure I can be near him anymore, and not let him know I want it all back…it's not right…I don't have that right, that call on his life, his time. I feel weak, dependent, unable to make my own way. But, I don't know what else to do with my life. I can't imagine…I want to help people, but I don't want to be a mercenary and I'm not the one people come to for help, anyway. They come to him…but, even when he has to go, he doesn't want me with him, too afraid I'll get hurt, as if I'd care if…" Iolaus bit his lip, then continued, "He's learned to handle things completely on his own. Gods, he might not even trust me to back him up anymore, I don't know…it's been so many years. I'm afraid, I guess…that if I do ask, he'll actually say he doesn't…. I can see the look in his eyes…he won't want to hurt me. I'll have nothing left…no reason to…. So, basically, I ran away. But, I can't stay away because I can't bear to even imagine a life without him in it. I can't live like this, torn apart, belonging nowhere, having no one, no one needing me, having no purpose. I didn't know what else to do when I left…I still don't."

Finally, weak with the force of the pain, the self-disgust, the loneliness and the great gaping emptiness that loomed in front of him, unable to imagine any kind of future, any kind of life, exhausted, Iolaus admitted the final wretched truth he'd tried to hide, even from himself, almost choking on the words. "I'm such a coward. If I'm really honest…I want to die, but I don't even have the courage to kill myself."

Yu-lin rested his hand on the top of the weeping man's head and left it there, letting his own sense of peace flow through him and wash over Iolaus, until his student calmed, and the tears finally dried on his cheeks.

"You have done well, today, my child. You opened the darkest corners of your heart, and by facing that darkness, acknowledging the truth of your pain, you have begun to bring light upon that darkness. But, we have only begun. Rest now for you are very tired. Tomorrow, we will begin the healing."

Rising, Yu-lin paused before he walked silently away. "Do not confuse the natural desire for death when you feel trapped, suffering with unbearable anguish and can see no way out, with the courage to resist the simple solution, to strive nonetheless. You may be many things, my child. But, you are not a coward."

A few moments later, Iolaus struggled to his feet, his body aching with fatigue, needing desperately to sleep, to lose himself in the blessed, if temporary, oblivion.

* * *

For the next two weeks, they met in the garden and, at first, Iolaus dreaded the sessions as he'd dreaded little else in his life before then. Yu-lin began slowly, as if drawing his student up through the various layers of his pain, teaching him one lesson at a time. He showed Iolaus another way to see his childhood by having Iolaus play out the roles of his mother and father, imagining the world and what had occurred from their eyes, their perspective. Gradually, the warrior came to understand that there were other ways of seeing what had occurred, ways that often had little, if anything, to actually do with him. His father, abandoned as a child, raised in loveless orphanages, had had no idea how to love anyone. All that he had known was the rough, rigorous, discipline of the military and the constant anger of an empty heart. His mother had been terrified of his father, beaten physically and emotionally, and had felt a failure in every way. She had been so traumatized she had nothing left to give, no strength left to protect anyone else from his fury.

Iolaus was learning that different perspectives could change the way he looked at the world and what occurred within it. One day, Iolaus realized the hate was gone, and with it went the deep-seated belief that he'd always been at fault, had deserved what had happened. Instead, he felt a deep sadness for the pain his parents had suffered and taken out on him, but not because of him.

Releasing the guilt about his family's deaths, and his rage at Hera, was a lot harder. But, finally, he came to understand that it was about control, his guilt and anger about not being able to control what was beyond his power. He'd not been to blame for what had happened to them, he couldn't have known or prevented it. So guilt muted to sorrow and he found he could remember their faces without the pain of feeling he'd killed them. Found he could genuinely remember the good times, and rejoice in the life he'd shared with them, however short it was, unable to hold any vestige of regret despite what had happened. Taras, in particular, became a poignant memory. Though his boy had not lived long, he had lived and with joy. Iolaus could not find it in himself to wish his son had never been born which would have been the only way the child could have avoided death at Hera's hand. Nevertheless, Iolaus remained convinced that it was his responsibility to never put other loved ones, no wife, no possible children of the future, at such risk.

As for Hera, he came to understand that he was incidental to her war against Zeus and Hercules. A pawn, no more. She'd acted in accordance with her nature, and though he despised her, he could no more rage against her than he could rage against the ravaging of a rabid beast that had no control over itself. Quietly, he acknowledged in his soul that though he might one day kill her, if he could, it would be more in mercy to release her from such a twisted, wretched existence, to protect others from her depredations, than out of rage or revenge for what she'd done to his family, to him. She was a monster, but like any monster, she could not help what she was, not really. It wasn't a matter of forgiveness, because forgiveness implied something personal between them. And there wasn't. None of it had been personal, just instinctive.

It was harder still to come to grips with the complexity of his feelings about Alcmene because it meant finally having to accept that perhaps her perceptions of him were every bit as valid, every bit as possibly true, as his own perceptions about himself. In these discussions, he had to struggle with what he understood to be 'truth' and come to understand it was only 'belief', neither true nor false, simply perception. As a child on the streets, he'd done what he'd had to do to survive. He could not ever be proud of it, but neither could he condemn himself as inherently evil either. Finally, almost grudgingly, when Yu-lin pushed him, he allowed that he was a decent person, tried his best, tried not to hurt others.

But, he knew in his heart that though his life would always be guided by a commitment to be the best he could ever possibly be, to fulfill her belief in him, he'd never be as good as she hoped. What finally gave him some sense of peace was when he came to accept that no matter what ever happened, what he'd do, he couldn't actually ever fail in her eyes. Yu-lin helped him to understand that, because she saw the greatness that was possible within him, would always be possible whether he saw it or not, he could not disappoint her somehow by not yet having achieved it. He came to fully understand the concept of unconditional love, and to accept it as something another could give to him, not simply as it applied to the love he offered others. Finally, he was able to be grateful for her gift of love, no longer afraid of not being worthy of it.

But, if all that had been hard, a wrenching struggle, the discussions about his feelings about Hercules verged on devastating before Yu-lin was done with him.

"You love Hercules," Yu-lin observed the day they began that discussion, his voice neutral.

"Yes," Iolaus responded.

"In what way?" his teacher probed.

Iolaus searched the sky, seeking the words to express was so profoundly a part of everything he was that it seemed too big, too vast, too all-encompassing to describe. Finally, he sighed, "In every way."

"Tell me, describe to me what it is that you love in him," Yu-lin persisted.

Sighing, Iolaus frowned thoughtfully, wondering where to begin. "Well, Hercules is…the best person I've ever known. He's kind, and for all his strength, and willingness to use it if forced, he's gentle. There's an innocence about him as if he believes only the best about everyone he meets, and something inside of him is hurt when he's betrayed…not because of the betrayal, but because they've been less somehow than they could have been, and they're hurting themselves. He's unselfish and decent. Honest. And, well, he really cares about what happens to people…feels guilty when his relatives act irresponsibly or maliciously and end up hurting people, as if it's his responsibility to fix it, to make it better."

"His relatives?" Yu-lin asked, puzzled, having only heard about the gentle Alcmene.

"Yeah," Iolaus sighed. "I guess I haven't told you. Hercules' father is Zeus, King of the Grecian Gods. He's a demigod, and he's never been comfortable within himself, that he's different. Gods, different…as if that was a bad thing. The world would be a far better place if we could all be like him."

"A demigod?" Yu-lin mused. "Do you worship him, then?"

"NO!" Iolaus replied, amused, shaking his head. "No…not like a deity, anyway. For one thing, if I ever tried, he'd turn me upside down and shake me silly until I unaddled my brain. No…Herc's my friend, and I guess, in a lot of ways, he's my hero. Ever since we were kids. I…well, I'm older than he is and, if anything, I guess I feel responsible for taking care of him. But, I know that's crazy…I've always known he doesn't really need me."

"So, you love him as a brother, a good friend?" his teacher asked, seeking precision.

"Yes…" his student nodded, still feeling that those words didn't capture the depth of what he felt.

"More?" Yu-lin persisted, sensing the hesitation.

Iolaus rolled his shoulders a little, then swallowed. "I…we were more than just friends…I have other friends, good friends, but…it's not the same. And, Herc has a brother, Iphicles, but they've never been as close as Herc and I used to be…. I can't explain it. It's like he's under my skin, a part of me."

"Were you lovers?" the teacher again sought precision. "Or wish you were?"

Shaking his head vigorously, Iolaus replied, "No…it's not like that…was never like that. I can't describe…there aren't words. His trust in me, the love that he gave me so completely, without reserve, when, well, at the time, I didn't think anyone could ever really love me, honour me in that way. Gods, I was nobody, going nowhere, nothing but trouble…but I've always been 'somebody' to him, somebody who mattered." Iolaus smiled unconsciously in memory. "He always only ever wanted me to be happy. No one has ever loved me, the way that Hercules loved me. I'd do anything for him."

"And this relationship ended when you married? He ended it?" Yu-lin asked.

"No, I did. I owed Anya loyalty as well as love if she was going to share a life with me," Iolaus replied, his voice a little tight.

"What did Hercules say when you told him you no longer wanted the same things, the same kind of life?" Yu-lin prompted.

Looking away, speaking very softly, regretfully, Iolaus replied, "I never told him, we never talked about it. I just…pulled away."

"You have said he no longer wants, needs or even trusts you as he once did," Yu-lin recalled Iolaus' words from days ago. "How do you know how he feels if you've never spoken of it?"

Frowning, Iolaus looked at his teacher, not ever having considered the question before. "I guess because he just got on with his life, refusing to even consider letting me travel with him when he did go to face danger, knowing how vulnerable I could be…I didn't tell you. The reason Hera cursed me was because Hercules got Zeus to turn back time, to bring me back to life after I'd been killed. I guess, in a way, he might even consider me a burden now if I was to travel with him. And, he has his own family…it's so long ago, he has a different life now. It's wrong of me to intrude, to want more."

"You have said he is your life? What does that mean, exactly?" Yu-lin asked, strenuously restraining his own sense of wonder at what he'd just been told. He didn't doubt that a god had restored Iolaus' life…gods were unfathomable, unknowable, did amazing things. But, he remembered his first reaction to this man, that there was something about him, a destiny of some kind that held importance. Frowning imperceptibly, he wondered if the King of the Greek gods had sensed something similar in this man and if that's why he had allowed himself to be persuaded to such an astonishing deed as to turn back the whole of time, simply to restore this man's life. Or, perhaps, it was as Iolaus believed, that the god had simply loved his son too much to refuse him…but, that implied that the god knew Iolaus was of such import to his son that Hercules needed him…more than Iolaus seemed to realize.

Iolaus' eyes roamed the garden as he thought about it. Quietly, he replied, "Without him, there is no purpose in my life, no reason to live. He gives me meaning, makes my life worthy. I can't explain it exactly, but it's almost like I was born when I met him, like I found myself when I didn't even know I was lost. I can't imagine the world without him in it…can't stand to even think of anything so empty. I would follow him anywhere, gladly, face any danger without fear if I could somehow help him, guard him, keep him safe. I would die for him, in a heartbeat, with no hesitation and no regret, if it meant I could save his life. The love I feel for him is…everything, boundless, endless. It's who I am. I'm nothing without him."

In the silence that followed, Iolaus was struck by what he'd just said. Months ago, he'd said to Hercules, 'I have to find out who I am now.' It seemed he'd just found his answer.

Yu-lin turned to study the man sitting quietly beside him, struck by the quiet passion and conviction in Iolaus' voice, his unshakeable commitment to this other being in his life. Perhaps, if he had an eternity, he could bring his student to understand and accept that he had worth in his own right. But, he only had days. Again, he was struck by that sense he'd had the first day he'd met this strange man. A sense that Iolaus held within him something incredible, something amazing…some extraordinary destiny. Perhaps, in a way Yu-lin could not understand, Iolaus and the demigod he loved were indeed bound together, souls entwined, fates and destinies blended until one was indeed incomplete without the other. Perhaps, in some fundamental and profound way, Hercules was Iolaus' life, just as his student asserted.

But, if that was so, the teacher mused, could it be true for only one half of that entwined soul? Or, if he could meet Hercules, speak with him, would the demigod say that in some way he didn't understand, he was incomplete without Iolaus? Frowning, Yu-lin pondered this thought, nodding a little to himself.

"Thank you for helping me to understand," Yu-lin said in his measured, remote way. "Tomorrow, we will talk about love"

The next day, the discussion of the most profound power of life, the power that was life, began. They explored the fundamentals of what it meant to love, without expectation…and that led to discussions about the different natures of love, the mysteries and wonder of it. Despite much effort, the teacher was unable to sway Iolaus from his conviction that Hercules no longer felt the same way he'd felt in his youth or in any way significantly needed Iolaus in his life. So, Yu-lin instead concentrated on helping Iolaus accept that this did not mean his friend did not love him still, though perhaps in a different way. To get his student beyond his conviction that he could not reveal the continuing depth of his own need for the friendship they'd once shared, Yu-lin worked Iolaus through all the possibilities he could imagine about how he could live with reality as he defined it…a hopeless reality of being in the shadows, of perhaps never sharing the closeness with Hercules they had once known. In doing so, Yu-lin sought to reveal to Iolaus that he could not hide what was so intrinsically a part of himself, for to do so would only be to live a lie that could not be sustained without denying and destroying his own soul.

So, the teacher had Iolaus imagine and work through all the possible scenarios of how he could behave within the friendship that defined his being.

Imagining never to see Hercules again, and rejecting it as inconceivable. Seeing Herc and not letting the depth of his own commitment show, feeling the impossibility and dishonesty of that. Relinquishing his secret hope that Hercules might someday desire a return to the partnership of their youth, and coming to grips with that, living with that, accepting that the friendship they shared could be enough. Letting his love shine forth, being clear that all he really wanted was to back his buddy up, be there if needed, share what he could…finally understanding that everyone only really sees what they expect to see. Iolaus could safely let his love blaze forth because Hercules would only see it as the longstanding, familiar, friendship he expected, nothing more. And that whether Hercules needed him or not, he could accept his own need and, in his heart, he made a commitment to follow Hercules, if he could persuade his friend to allow it, whenever Herc set out on missions to help others. He might not be essential, but he could help…and in helping, could bring meaning to his own life. Iolaus felt a sudden peace at that thought, sighing with relief that he didn't have to hide what he felt anymore.

As the days progressed, Iolaus came to understand he could not run away from his life, and that was what Hercules was, his life. For even when they were apart, Hercules haunted his thoughts, defined his reality. Hercules was the meaning for why he'd been born, his destiny. And, he came to understand he could not deny his own soul, or the love that dwelled within it. Accepted it was neither wrong nor right, simply who he was, would always be. In the end, he knew he could return home feeling only joy at seeing his best friend again. That he could let the love shine from his eyes, echo from his voice, be reflected in his actions, without it being a demand, or even a request, for anything more than Hercules was able to give. Could accept the casual touch of an arm around his shoulders without wishing to regain the past, but with gratitude for the steadfast friendship and lifelong commitment the two comrades shared for one another, however they might express it or feel it in different ways. Love, however it was expressed, was love, precious, to be cherished.

And, whether Hercules really needed him or not, he could devote himself to looking out for his friend, backing him up…like he had in his youth. Herc might not need his friendship, but he'd always appreciated it. Somehow, Iolaus vowed he'd find a way to…what? At the very least, let Hercules know he didn't have to always face things alone. More, to be there just in case his buddy ever would need him to save his life, even if it cost him his own. Herc wasn't invincible, though he acted as if he was. There might come a time when he'd really need a friend watching his back.

Somewhere, without noticing exactly when, Iolaus stopped wishing he could die and reawakened to the joy of just being alive.

If Yu-lin had had a lifetime, he might have chased all the shadows away from those eyes. But, he'd only had three months. So, there was still sadness there, and loss. Still knowledge of pain. But, the raw pain itself was gone. Iolaus had let it go. The eyes danced now with honest laughter, bright with energy and enthusiasm, ready to take whatever life held in store for him. There was an exhilaration that radiated from his student now, that had not been visible when Yu-lin had first observed the stranger at the edge of the temple square.

In the final two weeks, Yu-lin taught his student the mysteries and power of meditation. Taught Iolaus how by accepting, not resisting, flowing, not fighting, he could master his body at least for a time, so that Iolaus found he could exist at the bottom of a tank of water for up to half an hour without drowning. Taught his student how to use meditation to seek balance and harmony, peace in the midst of chaos. Though, that was harder, more mystical, and there was no time for mastery. In his wisdom, he knew there would be times when Iolaus would slip, many times when he would fall back into old pain and regret. But, Yu-lin had helped guide his student to his centre, so that he could find it when the world threatened to overwhelm him, so that he could at some level know that there was no reality, simply perceptions, that he could surrender and yet be victorious.

It would have to be enough.

One day, Yu-lin came to the garden bearing Iolaus' pack. When his student looked at it and then up at him, he explained, "The caravan is leaving today. Your lessons here are done. It is time for you to return to your life, to your home."

Thoughtfully, Iolaus took the pack as he stood to face his teacher, wondering what words could ever express his gratitude for the gifts of skill, insight and perception, of perspective, he'd been given here…in the exercise square, but more, in this garden. Finally, he bowed deeply in respect, murmuring, "Yu-lin, you will always be my teacher…your words and wisdom will guide my steps. I thank you, master, for having found me, and finding me, having helped me find myself…and my path."

Yu-lin bowed back, just as deeply. "You, Iolaus, have been my student, but I have also learned from you. I have seen your courage and integrity, your compassion and strength. You say Hercules is your life, part of your soul. I say that your soul is love and that the two of your share a life, a destiny. You are a humble man but in making you the gods, whoever they are, gave a gift to this world, and I am grateful to them. I thank you for your trust in allowing me to be your guide. I, too, will always remember you and I will be inspired by the memory of a man who faces life unflinchingly, lives it fully and rejoices it in. I am grateful you found your way here and will miss you when you are gone."

Iolaus looked up, and smiled. Unable to stop himself, he reached out and hugged his teacher to his heart, holding him tightly for a long moment. "Thank you," he murmured once more, reverently kissing the old man's cheek.

Then, he turned and walked out of the garden…back to his life, his destiny.

* * *

At least once every week since Iolaus had left, Hercules had gone alone to the cottage on the hill, to make sure it stayed in good repair, to tend to the graves, the flowers. To sit on the crest of the hill looking out over the valley to his mother's home…to remember and try to find comfort in the memories. But, then he'd sigh, and stand, knowing it was time to head back home, uncomforted…the memories only leaving him feeling more bereft, more lonely than ever.

Deianeara had been wonderful, never complaining when she caught him moping around, staring endlessly down that empty lane. She knew he missed Iolaus like he'd miss a part of himself…because Iolaus was so fundamentally part of who he was. Impatiently, Hercules raked fingers through his hair, amazed that she seemed so easily to understand and accept what he didn't really understand himself. Gods, he missed him.

Part of him had never found a way to fully accept how Iolaus had so quickly, so easily turned away from him when he'd met Anya. Oh, intellectually he could understand it well enough. He knew what the idea of family meant to Iolaus. And, he'd set it up himself, in some ways, taking off without even saying good-bye after his friend had married, though he knew Iolaus hadn't known why at the time. But, he'd sensed that Iolaus hadn't even noticed, not for the longest time anyway. It had ended so suddenly, with no warning, no time to prepare…the easy, always there, partnership he had relied upon for almost the whole of his life was just finished.

So, to give himself time to come to grips with the rejection he'd felt, he'd wandered…and, in wandering, had found Deianeara, and a better understanding of why Iolaus had pulled back from the life they had shared. He loved his wife profoundly, could not imagine not having her, or their children, in his life. The emptiness and hurt he'd felt over Iolaus' rejection had been muted by this understanding of what love of a wife and family could mean. And so, over the years, in his mind and heart, their friendship had remained strong. But, deep down, when Iolaus was gone, there was still an emptiness that even his deep, abiding, passionate love for Deianeara could not completely fill.

But, before he'd met Deianeara, before even Iolaus had married Anya, there'd been that disastrous journey to Gargarencia. Gods, Hercules still felt sick every time he remembered holding Iolaus in his arms, watching him die. To know he was losing part of what they had to Anya was one thing…to lose Iolaus completely, irrevocably, had been shattering. He'd gone a little crazy he thought, now, remembering. Drowning in the depth of his loss, he'd reached out for something, anything, for comfort…and had found himself holding onto Hippolytta. He knew now that what he'd felt for her hadn't been love, so much as the need to be loved and to give love, to blot out the pain, the loss. The guilt. He'd learned from her that his views were narrow and bigoted. He hadn't liked what she shown him. But, he'd embraced it, almost as a kind of penance at first, and then later as a gift that allowed him to see the world, and the women in it, more clearly with the respect they deserved. Oh, he'd always loved, even worshipped his mother, never relegating her to the common crowd. But, he came to see his mother as the epitome of womanhood… strong, capable, courageous and loving. The same qualities he'd found in Deianeara.

When Hippolytta died, he'd realized that it had all been his fault. All of it. And he'd had to make it right. For the first time, he'd sought out the power of a god, to change reality, to undo what had been done, that others wouldn't have to pay with their lives for his mistakes. For the first time, he'd begged Zeus to help him. And, when he'd found himself back in Anya's home, he'd thought he'd burst with the sheer joy and gratitude that swamped him, that his father had granted his wish. Iolaus was alive. He'd gotten his best friend's life back…and he wasn't going to risk it again.

Nor had he, for a very long time.

He remembered when Anya had died, how lost Iolaus had seemed then, how wounded. Gods, how he'd wanted to reach out and offer to fill that emptiness, offer a return to their old ways so that Iolaus wouldn't be so alone, so evidently lost. But, that time, their time, had passed. It wouldn't have been right…not for Iolaus, not for Deianeara. For Hercules was an honest man, and he knew having committed himself to Deianeara, to his love for her, to the family they planned to have together, to the life they would share so long as they lived, he couldn't betray her, to wander as he had in his youth.

And, besides, his heart had quailed with the old fear. Even if he took Iolaus with him when people sought out his help, what if Iolaus got killed again? What then? No, better to just carry on with the lives they had. Iolaus had his son, had a safe life, commitments…and so did he.

Finally the day came when Iolaus had wanted so badly to go with him to confront the minotaur, and Hercules hadn't the heart any longer to say no. He'd missed his friend in so many ways. Missed the fun and laughter when they traveled. Missed the security of knowing Iolaus was at his back. Missed the unconditional confidence Iolaus had always had in him, and which sustained him when he went up against danger he couldn't imagine or assess in advance. Missed just being with him, alone, to enjoy the time together. So, he'd relented in his vow to not put Iolaus at risk again…and had almost lost him again. Gods what a horror that whole experience had been. He'd been so glad when it was finally over, and they were home safe, at his mother's place.

Only to find out Iolaus' son was dying. Iolaus had been frantic, had tried everything to keep his boy alive, to hold onto him. When Taras had sighed and gone still, he'd watched Iolaus tenderly lift the child to his heart, holding him, the two so silent, so pale and still they both seemed to have been turned to marble. When the shudder had rippled through Iolaus' body, when he was wracked by the silent sobs of an anguish that could not be assuaged, Hercules had ached with sorrow that there was nothing he could do to alleviate his friend's pain except be there to hold him while he cried.

And then Hercules had learned that the bargain he'd made so long ago for Iolaus' life had ultimately cost his best friend his family and the possibility of ever having a family of his own. The knowledge tore Hercules apart. He couldn't regret getting Iolaus back, but nor could he forgive himself for what it had cost. He raged at Hera, and at his father for not being able to control his spouse, for not having intervened to forbid such obscenity. Iolaus had suffered so much in life, had endured so much. But, despite all the cruelties of what had happened to him in his life, Hercules knew how much love Iolaus had in his heart, how much he needed to give it…and now, Hera had imprisoned him a future of loneliness. The demigod had ached for his friend, had struggled about how to give him comfort …had wondered how Iolaus could bear it, could bear the loneliness.

But, he'd never imagined that Iolaus would leave, would just walk away unable to endure the emptiness of his cottage. Alone. Vulnerable. Trying to be strong when he felt so lost. For the thousandth time, Hercules wondered if he should have forced him to stay…but, knew he couldn't have, that he didn't have the right to demand Iolaus stay and face the ghosts everyday just because Hercules couldn't imagine life without him there.

Once over the course of the year, he'd found himself asking Aphrodite if she knew anything about where Iolaus was, what he was doing. It had just been a whisper on the night wind, as he'd roamed restless across the fields and up to Iolaus' cottage. But, she'd appeared immediately, subdued for Aphrodite, shaking her head with regret. No, she knew nothing…Iolaus had wandered too far past her usual boundaries of interest or influence into the shadows of distant lands.

And, now, it was late afternoon, and Hercules had once again lapsed into his reverie, watching the lane that led down to the road that led to the east. It had been a little more than a year since he'd watched Iolaus stride away along that track, disappearing around the curve in the road. He'd heard nothing for so long, and felt so…lost somehow, like his foundation had shifted and the world was uncertain, off balance. Time after time, he'd imagined seeing Iolaus striding along, a grin lighting his face as he retraced his steps, finally coming home, only to sigh in disappointment and frustration when the image evaporated.

But, then a little more than a week ago, a tattered, filthy note, the writing barely still legible, had found its way into his hands, letting him know that Iolaus had taken a caravan to the far east, and had decided to stay on there for a few months. Hercules had sighed as he'd smoothed out the wrinkled parchment, and then folded it carefully, securing it in his belt. How long ago had Iolaus sent it? How much longer would he be gone?

Finally, blowing out a breath of frustration, Hercules accepted that the empty lane was going to stay empty for another day. Pushing his fingers through his hair, he turned to head back up to the barn, to finish the chores of the day. He'd just straightened from picking up the pitchfork when…

"Yeoh! Hey, Herc!"

The sound of that voice ignited a blaze of happiness so fierce he couldn't breathe, couldn't move…and then he was whirling, throwing the tool away, to see Iolaus loping up the lane, grinning from ear to ear.

The next thing he knew, the demigod was halfway down the lane, lifting his partner into a tight hug, swinging him around in a kind of dance of unrestrained joy. "Oh gods, you're home!" he cried. "You're finally home!"

Iolaus was hugging him right back, laughing even as he tried to breathe despite the deathlock Hercules had on him. "Hey, anyone would think you missed me!" he teased, delighted by the welcome.

Hercules finally set him back down, only to loop an arm around his shoulders as he drawled, "Missed you? Nah, whatever gave you that idea? It's not like you were gone for more than a year or anything! Gods, Iolaus, I was beginning to wonder if you were ever coming back."

Iolaus heard the ache despite the teasing, and was warmed by it. Smiling up at his tall friend, his eyes filled with the pleasure of seeing Hercules again, he said quietly, "I told you I'd be back…gods, Herc, you gotta know I'd never leave for good. I couldn't."

"I know," the demigod replied, reassured by the words, "but, I missed you."

"I missed you, too," Iolaus assured him, sincerity ringing in his voice.

Hercules found himself studying his friend…there was something different. The hair was the same, maybe a bit longer, and the clothes were the same, but it was if a fog had cleared and the sun was shining through. He realized then how long it had been, far more than a year, since he'd seen that clear look in Iolaus' eyes, the sunny brightness of his expression, open, full of warmth, no constraints. "You've found yourself," Hercules said then, a kind of wonder in his voice.

"Yeah," Iolaus confirmed, not questioning the odd words, understanding them. He'd been lost for a while, not quite himself, living but not thriving, enjoying but not reveling in life. But, he'd finally come to accept that Hercules was his life, even if his friend would never know how deeply he felt, how profoundly he was still, and would always be, a part of Iolaus' own identity. It didn't matter. Not so long as he could share something of Herc's life, and be there if he was ever needed. "Yeah," he said again, turning with his friend to head up to the house. "I feel…younger somehow. I learned how to let the pain go."

Nodding thoughtfully as he continued to gaze at his friend, Hercules replied quietly, "I'm glad Iolaus. Really glad."

* * *

Deianeara took one look at him when Hercules pulled him through the door, both of their faces alight with joy, and then she raced across the kitchen, throwing her arms around him, hugging him without restraint, so very glad he had finally, finally returned safe and well. The boys raced in, to see what all the laughing and excitement was about, and then they too were jumping around their Uncle Iolaus, vying for his attention.

"Aeson," Herc directed with a wide grin, "run over to your grandmother's place and tell her we have a surprise here for her. DON'T tell her Uncle Iolaus is back, just bring her, okay?"

Aeson nodded eagerly and skipped out the door, running flat out to Alcmene's place, so excited he could scarcely make himself understood when he arrived there, just that there was a REALLY GREAT SURPRISE and she had to come RIGHT AWAY! He pulled on her arm, impatient as she stopped to take off her apron, and then practically hauled her back across the fields.

Bemused, laughing, wondering what could have gotten the boy so excited, Alcmene followed him into the house, looked up, saw Iolaus…and burst into tears. "Ah, don't cry," Iolaus pleaded as he moved to take her into his arms, hugging her tight. "Come on, don't…."

Pulling a little away from him, sniffing, wiping her eyes so that she could see him clearly, she smiled tremulously as she shook her head, trying to regain control. Reaching up to cup his cheek with her hand, she was finally able to say, "I've been so worried about you, Iolaus…missed you so much. Oh, I'm so very glad to have you home." Then, she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him as if unwilling to ever let him go.

Moved beyond words, Iolaus just held her for a long moment, basking in her love. Then, he too, sniffed and pulled himself away, surreptitiously wiping his own eyes. "I missed you, too, Alcmene, and thought about you a lot. Hey, look," he said, turning to pick up the very stuffed pack he'd carried in with him, "I brought you something…you, too, Deianeara, everybody!"

Rummaging about in the pack, he brought out several small objects wrapped carefully in clean rags. Sorting them on the table, he moved one small pile to each woman, and handed somewhat larger wrapped objects to the two little boys, and a small package to Hercules. Standing back, he waved his arms expectantly at them, to signal they should open their gifts. For each of the women, he'd brought rare spices from the east and delicate bottles of scent. For Deianeara, there was a finely wrought, filigree silver bracelet with tiny charms, and for Alcmene, a chain of woven strands of gold that glittered in the light. The boys, eyes wide with anticipation, ripped the bindings from their gifts, one a wooden carving of a camel, the other of an elephant. Hercules had watched the others unwrap their treasures, smiling with delight as each was revealed, dutifully smelling both the spices and the scent, admiring the animals and listening as Iolaus described the live versions, reducing them all to giggles when he physically acted out how they moved and the defining characteristics of their personalities.

Then, he opened his own gift, wondering what Iolaus would have brought for him…a man of simple tastes who carried nothing with him, wanted for nothing, he couldn't imagine what his imaginative buddy would have come up with. Inside the binding was a small, engraved, teak box, beautiful in itself. Inside the box were two matching ovals of turquoise set in elegantly plain steel bands.

When Hercules looked up at his friend, Iolaus shrugged as he explained, "You're not the easiest guy to shop for, Herc. I thought those gauntlets Heph gave you, as indestructible and utilitarian as they are, could stand a little dressing up. They're designed to just slip on over top and the next time we see Heph, we can get him to set them in permanently."

Hercules smiled at him and immediately set the bands in place, where they would remain a daily reminder of his friend's thoughtfulness for the rest of his life. "Thanks, Iolaus, they're great," he said, the simple words coloured by the pleasure in his eyes.

"Iolaus, it's all too much!" Alcmene protested as she slipped the chain around her throat, liking the feel of it against her skin. She'd never had anything so fine, so beautiful. "Thank you, son…everything's perfect."

Deianeara rose from the table to hug him in gratitude, kissing his cheek as she said, "Alcmene's right, it is too much, and it's all wonderful. You're too generous by half. Thank you." Standing back, looking at the small cask of strange spice in her hand she continued thoughtfully, teasing him, "But, you may have to do some of the cooking, to show us how to use these new ingredients."

Iolaus laughed, as he agreed, "Okay, but then you'll have to eat what I make with these." Once more delving into his pack, he pulled out a pair of beautifully carved chopsticks for everyone. Examining them, they all looked at him with questions in their eyes. "I'll show you how, and believe me, it's not as easy as it looks, but if I could learn, so can all of you." Reaching once more into his pack, he handed two wrapped objects to Deianeara as he explained, "Ilea is a little young yet, but I thought these might do for her."

Deianeara unwrapped a small silver cup and then a narrow, flat object that opened into a beautifully painted fan. "They're beautiful," she sighed, delicately waving the fan beside her cheek.

"Oh, and last but not least, given the scrapes little boys, or even big boys, can get," Iolaus said with a meaningful look at Hercules, "here are some medicines and salves from the far east that are almost as good as anything Aesclepius can cook up." He laid several sealed small bottles and enameled pots on the table.

Setting his pack aside, Iolaus pulled up a chair at the table and looked around expectantly. "So, when do we eat…I'm starving!"

Laughing, the women rose and, after hugging him again, went to prepare the evening meal, while the two men and the two boys played with the wooden animals, making up wild and wondrous adventures about distant lands. Over dinner, Iolaus regaled them with stories of the people he'd met, the sights he'd seen, and the stories went on long into the evening.

Finally, it was late. Rising, Iolaus bowed to Alcmene as he said, "Now, if I might have the honour of escorting the lady home?" Delighted, she rose to take the arm he held out to walk with him to the door. Hercules saw them out while Deianeara shoo'd the boys to bed, long after their normal bedtime, but they'd been too excited by their uncle's return, too enthralled by his tales of wonder, to be banished earlier.

Outside, as they said their good-nights, Hercules again embraced Iolaus, holding him tightly as he said, "I'm really glad you're back, buddy."

"I am, too," Iolaus replied quietly, before turning to walk with Alcmene across the dark fields.

Hercules watched until they'd disappeared into the darkness, then headed back into the house.

* * *

They walked silently, enjoying the balmy evening air. Iolaus gazed up at the stars, and over toward the dark hill where his own cottage sat, not really looking forward to returning to its silence, but knowing he couldn't avoid it. It was where he lived, after all.

Alcmene took his arm, ambling along thoughtfully while her mind played over the evening. When they reached her cottage, Iolaus paused at the door, to hug her 'good night' before heading up the hill.

But, she held onto his arm, drawing him inside, as she said, "Oh no, young man, you're not leaving yet. Come inside for a cup of tea."

Relieved, in no hurry to go back to the silent emptiness, Iolaus grinned and agreed.

He built up the fire in her hearth while she bustled around lighting candles and putting the tea in the pot, filling the kettle with water to boil. She pushed Iolaus into a chair by the table, and sat down with him to wait for the water, laying a hand over his. "We missed you…more than I think you'd ever believe," she said simply. "You were gone so very long."

Looking down, covering her hand with his own, he nodded, "I know…I didn't think it would be so long when I left. I'm sorry if you were worried."

"Well, you're home now, and that's what counts," she said as she rose to lift the whistling kettle from the fire and pour the steaming water into the pot. Settling again at the table, she looked at him, studying him, wondering what had really happened to him while he'd been away.

"The time you spent in the temple…it's changed you," she observed. "You seem more at ease, almost at peace…happy. Tell me more about it, about what happened there."

Taking a deep breath, Iolaus shook his head, as he replied, "It's a long story, but, basically, I met a very wise man who helped me come to grips with things…with everything that's happened, and what I feel. He taught me how to see things differently, and," he shrugged, "he helped me find a way to let go of the pain, accept what is and how to be really, really grateful for what I have…for you, Hercules and his family, for my own family, for my life. And, he taught me some really great moves," Iolaus went on, his face lighting with laughter. "Wait'll I flip Herc over my shoulder! I can't wait to see his face!" Iolaus giggled at the thought as he took a sip of the steaming tea.

"I'm glad," she said quietly as she poured her own tea. "You…you were locked inside for a very long time, not letting how you feel shine through. When I saw you today, you were glowing…you still are. Like you used to…before Anya…."

"Yeah, well, I didn't know how to deal with it all, and you know me, push it down, pretend everything's all right and keep going," Iolaus replied. "I didn't know myself how much I had locked myself away."

"Hmm," she murmured, taking a sip of the tea, still studying him thoughtfully, a small crease between her brows. "Iolaus…I'm glad, really glad, more than you know, to have you home, to see you so happy. But," she hesitated, then set down the mug, reaching again to put her hand over his, "I'm afraid for you, afraid for your heart. I don't want you hurt…."

Puzzled, Iolaus studied her. "Hurt? I don't understand…?"

Looking away for a moment, she took a deep breath, plunging right in, "He doesn't understand, doesn't see how you feel…"

Gazing at her, wondering at her concern for him, he asked quietly, "What do you see, Alcmene?"

"Love…" she replied simply, gazing at him with a slight frown between her brows. "I see the love you have for him, how much he matters to you. Iolaus, you know him as well, better maybe even than I do. You know there's no hope that he'll ever go back to the way it was before. You were always so close when the two of you were younger…inseparable. But that time is past. You deserve your own life, not just a life lived in the shadow of his…"

Wiping his hand over his mouth, Iolaus shook his head, not wanting her to be worried about him. "Alcmene, you know as well as I do that there's no question of me ever having a family of my own again," he said quietly, not looking at her. "I tried to find my own way…that's why I went east. But, I finally came to understand that what really matters to me most is being here for him, and for you. Being here in case either of you ever needs me. Crazy, I guess, but well, it's who I am. The fact is, I can't imagine not being some part of his life. And, I guess old habits die hard…you used to trust me to look after him and I've always felt the same way, ever since we were little kids."

"Yes, I have trusted you to look after him…and you have, so far as he's ever let you. I never stopped trusting you, Iolaus…I never will," Alcmene replied firmly. "But, I wonder sometimes, who looks after you?"

Iolaus laughed a little mirthlessly at that. "He does," he replied, shaking his head. "That's why he stopped letting me travel with him years ago. He's protecting me. I have to try to find some way to show him he doesn't have to do that…that's if he even would consider me tagging along should the need arise…if he even still trusts me to watch his back."

"Trusts you?" Alcmene exclaimed, drawing his eyes back to her, holding them, "There's no one he's ever trusted more. Iolaus, you have no idea how much he missed you, how much he relies on you to be there, a constant in his life. I know you have always loved Hercules every bit as much as I have. That love, the depth and strength of it is a miracle…you ground him, you were always there for him. So long as he was with you, I knew I didn't need to worry that he'd ever be alone. But, that's not the point. You can't just live your life for him. You deserve better than that."

He gazed into her eyes and saw that she was, indeed, worried about him, concerned about how he would live his life, where he would find worth and meaning…and love. He smiled as he said softly, taking her hand this time, holding it gently, "Alcmene, I swear, as long as I've known you, you never cease to amaze me. Thank you for being worried about me. He's your son, and lots of mothers wouldn't care what his friend might need or want in their lives, would only feel the devotion was his due, be reassured that given the dangers he still faces too often that such a friend might be helpful to have around."

She pulled her hand away and swatted him. Flinching, he raised his hands, fending her off, "What?" he exclaimed, now thoroughly confused.

"'My son'? Iolaus, when will you ever believe that as far as I'm concerned, you are my son, too. I love you, you're so much more to me than just 'my son's friend'," she scolded him, but her voice cracked with emotion. All these years, and still he set himself apart, as if he didn't belong. She wanted to shake him.

"Oh," he giggled a little then, "for a minute there, I thought I was in real trouble!" Sobering, he again took her hand and held it firmly as he said, "I know you love me, and believe me, Alcmene, that means more to me than you will ever know. It was your love that let me begin to believe that life could be good, that it was safe to love, to trust, other people. And, I hope you know I love you, too, and in my heart, you are my mother."

"Well, fine then," she replied acerbically, "at least we have finally gotten that settled." But, then, her expression softened and she shook her head. "What am I ever going to do with you, Iolaus? You love with everything that you are, you don't know how to protect yourself…I'm beginning to think you never will. You'll stay here, living your life for him, in his shadow and he won't even realize it. That can never be enough for you."

Iolaus smiled then, warm, with confidence, as he assured her, "Yes…it can. The only thing that could ever hurt me anymore is not having the two of you in my life. I loved my family, you know that. And, I miss them…wish what happened hadn't happened. But, so long as I have the two of you, I can survive anything. With Herc…well, I just want to be a part of his life…to be there if he ever needs me and I can help. I know he loves me, too, in his own way, and that's enough…more than enough. So, don't worry about me. Really. I'm fine with this, better than fine, Alcmene. I'm happy."

She searched his eyes, and saw the truth of his words glowing there. Finally, nodding, she murmured, "You are such a good man. We are so lucky you came into our family, Iolaus. You don't know how grateful I am, have always been, to have you."

He laughed at that, shaking his head. He'd never understand it, but then, he didn't have to. Just be grateful and accept the love she so freely gave him. "Thanks, Alcmene. But, it works both ways, you know. I'm lucky, too."

They sat quietly for a moment then he again pushed back the chair and stood, hiding his reluctance to leave. "Well, it's late. I'd better be going."

"No, Iolaus…not tonight. Tonight, you've come home from a long journey. And you're going to sleep here, in your home…in the bed that has always been yours. Tomorrow is time enough to climb that hill," she said firmly, also standing and taking his arm to pull him toward the old room he'd shared with Hercules for so many nights of his childhood and youth.

The emotion swept over and through him, and he pulled her back into a hug, just holding her for a long moment, before he could whisper, not trusting his voice to speak more clearly, "Thank you, Alcmene…I really need to be home tonight."

* * *

After the excitement of the return, life itself was anticlimactic. Iolaus gave up trying to wrest food from the rocky, hilly land but lent a hand to Hercules with the ploughing, harvesting, and winnowing as the seasons turned. Alcmene appreciated the fact that he virtually took over the maintenance of her cottage, barn and meadowland, retaining only her beloved garden for her own attention. The family gathered regularly, at least three times a week at the demigod's household to visit and break bread together. If Deianeara thought that Iolaus spent an inordinate amount of time with them, she held her thoughts to herself. It was enough that her husband had relaxed again, the tension and worry, the preoccupation gone. Hercules always laughed more when Iolaus was around as if the hunter was good for his soul. Besides, she, too, loved Iolaus and seemed in those days to be even kinder, more welcoming, more considerate than she had been before he went away, taking care that he knew that he was immediate family, not simply a friend they were delighted to see.

Alcmene watched and approved. She had noticed her daughter-in-law cast thoughtful glances between the two men more than once, and had seen the sincere concern and affection in her eyes when they returned to Iolaus. Oh, Alcmene had no doubt that Deianeara had figured out where the hunter's heart lie, that he held a depth of affection for her husband that went far beyond the usual meaning of friendship. But she was easy with it, didn't need to understand it, grateful that Iolaus was so evidently willing to be there in case Hercules ever came up against something worse than he could handle on his own. He was a good man. A good friend. Her only concern was, like Alcmene, she felt he deserved more in his life…so much more.

Iolaus built a simple wood and stone shed beside his cottage, to create a small forge, with the intention of augmenting his income from the few animals he had begun to keep by making farm tools, knives and the occasional sword on order. Often, he'd head into the forest, hunting for all their tables and for the poor or old in the village. His business grew and he had a good life, if a lonely one once he entered his cottage in the evenings.

The seasons passed and Hercules' children grew, Aeson going on for ten and Ilea was a lively, curious and laughing child, always on the run, usually to see her grandmother or her Uncle Iolaus, driving her parents to distraction when she'd vanish from the yard. They were generally happy, contented times…marred by the one terrifying episode when a centaur Hercules had taken on as casual help during the harvest became fixated on Deianeara…to the point of assaulting and trying to rape her.

Iolaus had been off in the forest when the trouble occurred, coming back to a distraught Alcmene who was caring for the children. Her garbled story didn't make a lot of sense…someone had come for Hercules' help, then Deianeara had set off after him, wanting to warn him about something. Her daughter-in-law had returned, subdued but alright only to later bring the children back to Alcmene, her eyes haunted, her face pale…saying only that she had to leave…had to follow Hercules. Iolaus took in Alcmene's fear and felt it twine around his own heart. It didn't make any sense…but something was wrong, Herc was in trouble, and Iolaus had to find out what was going on. He set off after them, following Herc's trail, but always seemed a step behind. He found the body of the centaur, the signs of struggle, and carried on, more worried than ever, into the nearby village. Horrified, he heard of how a terrible fissure had opened to Tarturus and the spirits of the dead were escaping. Though, he couldn't make any sense of what the villagers told him, it became only too clear that the bottom-line was that Hercules had jumped, screaming in agony, into the endless pit.

He'd stood at the edge of the smoking fissure, oblivious of the heat and danger, wondering if there was a way down, wondering what had driven Hercules almost mad with pain…sick with fear but unwilling to accept his buddy was dead. The villagers had no such doubts and their sorrowful acceptance that Herc was gone nearly drove him mad with fury. They gave him a wide berth when he loudly insisted that Hercules couldn't be dead, shaking their heads at the raw, terrible grief in his eyes. Ignoring them, he searched for Deianeara, the signs of the struggles having given him a pretty good idea of why the centaur had been killed, but no one had seen Herc's wife. He felt as if he was trapped in some kind of nightmare, and couldn't find a way out.

And, then, it got worse…a shepherd came into the tavern that night and told how he'd seen a beautiful, tall woman with long hair the colour of dark copper leap from the cliffs to the rocky sea below. He'd run to the edge, but there'd been no sign of her…poor soul, driven to such a desperate end. Listening, Iolaus went chalk white and thought he might be sick. He questioned the shepherd closely, then closed his eyes, silent as he turned away, lurching from the tavern.

Outside, he doubled over, wretching. Leaning on the wooden side of the tavern at the edge of the alley, he gasped, trying to breathe, trying to think. Deianeara…so distraught that she'd forgotten her children, had killed herself in some kind of hopeless gesture against a desolation that could not be borne.

"Oh gods," Iolaus whispered, his eyes blurring as he gazed up at the stars, "oh gods, no."

Because, there was only one thing that could have driven her to such action. She'd known, somehow she'd known, that Hercules was dead, and couldn't bear to live with the knowledge. Iolaus wrapped his arms around his body, gritting his teeth against the pain that welled within him, until a sob broke free and he slipped to his knees, rocking in his agony.

Hours might have gone by, he didn't know…didn't care. Herc was gone. The hunter felt an aching emptiness that swamped him, consumed him. There was no thought, no coherence in his mind, just that vast nothingness, and the blinding pain.

But, gradually, thought returned. Alcmene…how was he ever going to tell Alcmene? How would she ever bear this? And, then…gods, the children! Their faces flashed before his eyes, so innocent and trusting, so full of confidence and the happiness of being secure and loved. He shook his head numbly. Once more he cast his eyes to the sky, searching, listening but there was only silence and the cold distant stars. He wanted to do nothing more than cast himself into the pit to go after his best friend, one way or the other. But, that was the route Deianeara had chosen. The way there was now barred to him, at least until those kids were raised and safe in their own lives. He couldn't do anything to help Hercules, deep down he knew that…but he owed it to his friend to make sure the children were all right.

It was all that was left that he could for the man who had always defined his life.

"I swear to you, Herc," he whispered brokenly through tears, "I swear I'll take care of them for you."

Pushing himself to his feet, he walked slowly down the dark village streets, his shoulders hunched, his gait unsteady and uncertain like that of a frail old man, heading out of the settlement, into the night. Heading back to the homestead to somehow tell Alcmene her son was gone, and to care for the children of the man he loved beyond measure, with all his heart and soul.

He was distraught but resolute when he strode up the lane late in the evening two nights later. He saw the light of the candles and hearth glimmering from the windows and knew Alcmene must still be up. Taking a deep breath, steadying himself for what he had to do, knowing it would break her heart, he plodded up to the door and entered.

To find Hercules and Deianeara sitting with Alcmene by the fire.

He froze, confused, wondering if he was dreaming while awake. Hercules turned at the sound of his entry, and came to his feet, moving to meet Iolaus, seeing the stricken look in his buddy's eyes, his face gray and haggard.

"Iolaus…are you alright?" he asked anxiously, gripping his friend's shoulder, feeling the trembling of Iolaus' body.

Iolaus looked up at him, swallowing and taking a deep breath, as if it was the first time he'd drawn breath in days, a drowning man coming back to life. "Hercules? You're really here…you're alive?"

Hercules nodded, the compassion in his eyes indicating that he'd finally understood…Iolaus having followed them must have heard what had happened and had thought….

Iolaus' lips quivered and tears welled in his eyes as he shook his head, struggling for control. "I thought…" his voice cracked, as he reached out a hand, "I thought you…and Deianeara were…dead."

Hercules pulled his shaking friend into his arms. "It's all right, Iolaus," Hercules reassured him, rubbing his back as he gave his friend time to adjust. "It's a long story…we were dead, I guess, but I won a reprieve from Hades. It's all right, buddy."

Deianeara and Alcmene had risen by then and had come to join them. Pulling away from Hercules, Iolaus gave his friend's wife a fierce hug. Then, he stood back, hands on his hips as he scolded them, "Don't you ever…ever scare me like that again. I thought we'd lost the both of you. I don't ever want to experience anything like that again…do you hear!"

They all laughed then, as Hercules pounded him on the back and his wife kissed Iolaus on the cheek. "We won't," she assured him lightly, still euphoric from the experience of not only getting Hercules back, but having them both restored safe to their home. "I promise."

* * *

It was a promise she wouldn't be able to keep.

Not quite a year later, while Hercules and Iolaus dealt with drunken oafs in the tavern in Thebes one night, Hera decided to take Deianeara and the children from them forever.

Just as Hercules arrived home, Hera threw lightning bolts, shattering streaks of power and fire to incinerate them in their beds. Horrified, maddened with grief, he'd raged through the night, but by dawn, he was sitting numbly on a rock not far from the door of his house, struggling to contain the overwhelming force of the grief, guilt, rage and despair which surged within him.

Iolaus arrived, ready to help with some repairs to the roof , as planned, frowning over the peculiar burn marks he could see in the thatch, worried at the silence and his buddy's stillness when Iolaus spotted him slumped on the rock.

Loping up, he touched his friend's shoulder, saw the gray, tear-stained face, the haunted eyes. "Hercules, what happened? What's wrong?" he demanded, afraid to imagine what could have so devastated his friend.

"They're gone, Iolaus," Hercules said, his voice flat, empty. When Iolaus, uncomprehending, didn't respond trying to grasp the meaning, the demigod looked up at him. "Dead, they're all dead. Hera murdered them last night."

Iolaus whirled to look at the house, not wanting to…it couldn't…his eyes filled with tears as he shook his head with wordless denial and grief.

Hercules began to rage then, against Hera, against his father for having let this happen. Iolaus vowed revenge…they'd make her pay for this. He should have found a way, years ago, when she'd taken his own family…should have found a way to destroy her. His rage and devastation was as great as Hercules'… because now she'd taken both his families, all the children. Tears of anguish and horror filled his eyes. He was ready to go, then and there, to take her on, uncaring, unconsidering of the danger or foolishness of making war against the Queen of the Gods. The danger didn't even occur to him.

But, Hercules stood, shook his head. Oh, he'd have revenge, but he was going alone. "No!" Iolaus protested, but Hercules wasn't hearing him, wasn't even aware that his friend shared his pain…his own was too overwhelming. The only shaft of reason which penetrated through the red fog that consumed him was his determination that Hera wouldn't get Iolaus, too. His buddy had to stay home, had to stay away from her vicious power. Hercules didn't care if he died fighting her, but he would be damned if she'd take Iolaus from him, too.

Not understanding that Hercules only wanted to protect him, Iolaus felt…irrelevant. Felt Hercules was telling him his help was neither needed nor wanted. That he wasn't wanted or needed. Stunned, overwhelmed by the tragedy, by the horror, he walked away slowly, turning back to see Hercules smash and burn his furniture, and then the house, consumed by a rage that drove all reason from him. And, then he watched Hercules walk away. Iolaus stood there a long time, as if frozen, as the feelings teemed within him…rage, horror, grief, unbearable loss…abandonment. He felt useless and impotent…and devastated. Finally, knowing what must be done, he turned slowly to cross the fields to Alcmene's cottage.

He dredged up enough of himself to tell her, to hold her and comfort her, to assure her that Hercules would be all right and to make her lie down, laying a blanket over her, to give her some warmth against the chill that had gripped her soul. Then, he went to the village, found the healer and sent him to Alcmene, to care for her, to ease her pain.

Then, he went to the tavern to get drunk.

* * *

Hercules saved him from the results of his thoughtless, rage induced, confrontation with the SheDemon. Emotionally exhausted, he's been careless, had forgotten the lessons he'd learned from Yu-lin…and had paid the price.

This time, though, he remembered his journey to the Other Side, the memories not addled and erased by the turning back of time. As they left the village, he was able to offer the meagre reassurance that Deianeara and the kids were okay, loved him…but didn't want Hercules to join them for a very long time. He'd thought they'd head home, but Hercules had turned to him, still numb himself from all that had happened, that had almost happened. When he'd heard that Iolaus had been killed by the SheDemon, doing what he himself should have been doing rather than racing around the countryside in a mad search for revenge, he knew his world had truly ended. All that remained was to remove the scourge who had taken Iolaus from him, to finish what his buddy had started in trying to help the village.

But, he'd gotten Iolaus back. It was a reprieve that had staggered him, and lit the spark of strength once again, though it was a flickering, faltering spark at best. His family was gone, but at least his best friend still lived…and Hercules was more determined than ever that nothing would ever threaten Iolaus again.

But, the demigod couldn't go home, couldn't face it. Sorrowfully, he tried to explain that he needed time, on his own, much like Iolaus had needed time after Taras had died…he didn't know when, or even if, he'd be back. His last words before he turned and walked away were that he would carry his family, and Iolaus, in his heart wherever he went.

Iolaus stood and watched him go. Hercules had no way of knowing that it hadn't only been the loss of Taras, or even the knowledge of what Hera had done to his whole family, that had finally driven Iolaus away those years ago. It had been his love for Hercules and his fear of revealing he needed more of their friendship, needed their old partnership to give his own life purpose, that had driven him away to the east. Now, brushing the tears from his eyes, he tried to absorb the message that Hercules didn't want him along. For all the fine words, the message of that retreating back was that Hercules neither needed him, or cared enough to allow him to tag along. He tried to understand, tried to tell himself that Herc just needed time, that he was still just trying to protect him…but his heart just kept aching, while his soul whispered, 'It's hopeless…he'll never want you with him. He doesn't need you.'

Head bowed, shoulders slumped, Iolaus turned and went the other way, back toward Thebes.

* * *

Another year passed, slowly, empty except for those brief, bright, times when Hercules would return to Thebes. Avoiding his own homestead, the demigod stayed with his mother and seemed to become fixated with the need to build a stone wall around her property, to protect her. Though the gods knew, no walls had ever protected his family, or Iolaus', for that matter. When he was back, the two old friends fell into something that approximated a normal routine, hunting together or fishing…or working on the endless wall. Iolaus would get Hercules to talk about his travels. The stories of the dangers Hercules was facing alone made Iolaus feel ill, and time after time, he'd practically beg Hercules to allow him to go along the next time. But, Hercules would just look away and shake his head, change the subject…and leave alone.

Once, Iolaus ran into Hercules in Thebes while on a mission to sell his pig and buy what he needed to expand his forge, the business having grown considerably. Herc had come into the town to sell his mother's grain…and hadn't done that well. The next thing Iolaus knew, Hercules had borrowed money from him to buy a slave with the intention of freeing her. Iolaus hadn't put up much resistance. He hated slavery as much as Hercules did, thought it was an abomination that should be made illegal. But, it was everywhere, and he was only one man without the power to stop it. So, he'd learned to tolerate it, barely. If Herc wanted to free the slave, fine, at least one would have some kind of life.

She'd flipped him onto the ground when all he'd been trying to do was say he was glad she was free. He'd felt like a fool, completely unprepared for a move he recognized and could have easily mastered had he expected it. For a moment, he was tempted to teach her a few moves, but then gave it up. She was scared. It hadn't been personal.

But, it had resulted in Hercules haring off to save the other slaves…without him, again. As he wandered back home, the pig he'd been ultimately unable to sell to be slaughtered tripping along beside him, Iolaus tried to remember the last time Hercules had seen him handle himself in a fight…and the memory hurt. It was the night Herc's family had died. Since then, he'd been defeated by the SheDemon and flipped by a little chit of a girl. Sighing, he shook his head. No wonder Hercules didn't want him around anymore. His friend could only assume he'd be a liability.

Oh, Hercules would agree to his company when it was something inconsequential like a festival in Thrace, though that journey had posed its own challenges. Desperate to prove himself, sick of feeling incompetent and irrelevant, Iolaus had over-reacted against the intimidation of some thugs at a river crossing. The two old friends had had a falling out, taking different routes to Thrace. The resulting adventure did a good deal to restore some of Iolaus' confidence in himself, and lovely Lydia's enthusiastic recounting of Iolaus' heroics to Hercules led him to hope his buddy might actually take him along the next time he left on his rambles, though Hercules said nothing about it.

When they returned home from that trip, the silence of his cottage seemed ever more oppressive. Oh, they'd had a good time as it turned out but Iolaus was unsettled. He found himself thinking about Lydia, about how he'd won a kiss from her. Swallowing, he counted the years…almost twelve years since he'd last been kissed, last felt admired by someone who'd caught his attention. Gods, where did time go… where did life go? It just slipped away when you weren't watching.

For months, since Hercules had first left him on his fruitless quest for vengence against Hera, Iolaus had been struggling with his feelings. He loved Hercules, and wanted to be some part of his life. But…it was only too clear that to Hercules, he was a friend who was there, in the background, not really part of the demigod's life. Not anymore. He could stand it, the difference in their respective feelings toward one another when Hercules was there…he could forget the long months when his buddy was away, or almost. But…it wasn't enough on the long nights, when the wind blew cold and the fire went out. It wasn't enough during the long days, even counting the time he spent helping Alcmene.

He couldn't marry again, he knew that. But, did that mean he was going to have to spend the rest of his life without love of any kind, living like some monk or priest to a virgin goddess? Sometimes, he ached so badly to be touched, he had to grit his teeth to keep from screaming. Sometimes, the days, and nights, seemed so empty that he wondered if they would ever end.

Alcmene had noticed the loneliness in his eyes, saw that the dreariness of his life was wearing him down, and mentioned it to Hercules. Concerned, Hercules had climbed the hill, and they'd worked together that day to forge an incredible knife…perfection. And, later, they'd wandered into town for something to do. Iolaus had run into a woman he'd dated a little before he'd met Anya…and had learned she had married. Well, somedays it seemed everyone had married, had a family, had someone, except himself and Hercules…and Herc didn't seem to want or need anyone anymore.

So, Lydia haunted him, giving him a sense of growing desperation and desolation that he was trapped in a life going nowhere. When he met the black-haired beauty on the road later that day, and helped her with her lame horse, he'd been ripe for the pickings, as he'd thought about it later. But, at the time, her very evident response to him, her flirtation…her desire for him, swamped him, swamped his senses, overwhelmed his aching sense of need to be held, wanted, desired and ultimately, needed. And, she needed him. Needed his help in a quest against a vicious warlord. He'd felt a flare of resentment when Hercules hadn't seemed pleased to see him be the one for once who was leaving because someone needed his help.

Looking back in later years, he could see that Xena had suckered him good, but he'd been a willing victim, aiding and abetting her seduction of him willingly, even eagerly. Gods, to be touched again, to feel like someone loved him again. He'd been drunk with it, heady with the passion and emotion, dazed from lack of sleep, wound to a fine tension by the danger she faced. In later days, he struggled to understand how he could ever have taken her word over Herc's…and, sadly, he concluded that part of it was because he and Hercules had become almost strangers by that time, friendly strangers, but strangers nonetheless. He no longer knew or could predict with certainty what Hercules was doing when he was gone, who he allied himself with. So, he'd allowed himself to be deceived. Bitterly, he looked back on those terrible days and called himself a fool, never entirely forgiving himself for his blind stupidity.

But, when the moment came, when the first rage of battle against his friend had been spent, and he was holding in anger the knife they'd made together, at the point of trying to kill Hercules with it, sanity had rushed back in. He'd looked into those incredible blue eyes, filled with confusion and pain, saw the blood he'd drawn, and was sick with self-loathing. Tossing the blade aside, he laid in the dust no longer even caring if Hercules killed him…he deserved it. He'd betrayed his best friend, the man who had meant more than his own life to him, and always would. But now, any friendship or trust he might still have been able to claim had to have been killed by his stupid, thoughtless, irresponsible actions.

For the first time since he'd returned from the east, Iolaus had thought death might well be preferable to life. He'd already killed the only thing of worth left in his life. Herc's trust…his friendship. He'd thrown it all away and for what? For the touch of woman who had deceived him…despised him.

But, Hercules had reached down for him, had pulled him up to stand beside him and together they had faced and bested Xena's warriors. They left the fortress together, and though Iolaus could never understand why, Hercules never blamed him for any of it. Never once condemned or even questioned what he'd done. If anything, that had only made him feel more guilty…for having assumed that Hercules no longer cared what happened to him, for having doubted his friend's commitment to their friendship.

But, even more surprising, the next time Hercules left Thebes, he climbed the hill first to ask Iolaus if he'd go with him this time. If it wasn't too much to ask…he'd understand if Iolaus refused, but…. Iolaus was silently thanking the Fates for having moved him to sell off all his animals as pets weeks before as he doused the fire in the forge, and closed the door of his cottage, his hastily packed sack over his back, his sword at his belt, almost before Hercules had finished his request.

Smiling, Herc had looped an arm around his shoulders as they set out together, to do whatever had to be done.

* * *

Iolaus never knew the details of Nemesis' contract on him from Hera, though later he learned she had been sent to kill him, and had refused, losing her powers for her pains and made mortal by a furious goddess. But, at the time, he hadn't known that her words to Hercules, that Iolaus was a proud man, who needed to be respected, not coddled and protected, had given the demigod much to think about. He'd thought he'd been protecting Iolaus, but Nemesis forced him to wonder if, instead, he'd been stifling, suffocating, his friend's incredible spirit. The incident with Xena convinced him that he'd made a grave mistake in trying to shield his buddy from harm.

Calling himself every kind of fool, Hercules chastised himself for having thought more about his own needs, his own fears, than for even once considering how his actions had been hurting the one person besides his mother that he only wanted to protect. If anyone knew how much Iolaus needed to be needed, needed to feel worth, if anyone knew that restless spirit and indomitable courage, it was Hercules. How could he ever have thought Iolaus could be content, let alone happy, stuck alone up on that hilltop, knowing Hera had cursed him to never have a family to share his home with. How he could ever have deluded himself into believing that could ever be enough for his friend, was beyond him. Xena had proved it. The first chance Iolaus had had to leave, to help, to make a difference regardless of the threat to himself, he'd done so.

So, Hercules had determined that things were going to change, and he was the one who was going to change them. Never again would he willingly leave Iolaus behind. They'd been partners…they still were and always would be. As they ambled down the hill, setting off to who cared where, his own heart was unaccountably lighter than it had been since his family had been massacred. But, then, he shook his head, smiling softly at his own attempt at self-delusion. He knew damned well why he felt so happy. He'd missed Iolaus, missed him deeply. For some reason he didn't quite understand, he felt a part of himself was missing when Iolaus wasn't by his side. Had always felt that way, ever since the first day they'd met so very many years ago. Hercules straightened his shoulders, lifted his head and faced the fact that he still loved Iolaus every bit as much as he ever had. Years had changed their relationship, they'd loved, and lost, families, they'd both drifted for a while on their own. But, time could never change what he felt, nor did he want it to.

* * *

Seasons had come and gone. Good times of laughter and teasing, easy quiet times fishing by a babbling stream or peaceful lake, hair-raising times, like his mother's wedding to Jason, terrifying times, when the Fire Enforcer had beaten Iolaus so badly he'd died in Hercules' arms…exultant times, like when he got his buddy back again. Times when, for one reason or another, most often because more people needed help than they could handle together, they had to split up for a while to save thrones, fight demons of fire, sort out Hades' love life and save the world from starvation in the process, free drugged slaves in an underground society created by an evil man, win peace for a league of city states…times like those, when they'd gone their own way, only to find the road back to one another as quickly as possible.

Iolaus became something of a philanderer, a girlfriend in every village, a willing barmaid in every town. He'd learned his lesson from Xena well. Having once again found the release only a sexual experience with a willing partner could give, he gave up his vow of chastity in the face of Hera's curse, knowing he needed the touch of another's hands, or he'd be vulnerable again, too vulnerable. Hercules encountered Nemesis again, and they'd explored their earlier infatuation, but both knew it was nothing more than that. There'd been a few other women, one who had thought her husband had been killed in a local revolution, but he'd returned and she loved him still. Though he wasn't quite as frightened of abstinence as was Iolaus, not having been tempted into almost killing his best friend, Hercules also still longed for love of a kind that…well, that a man needed from a woman.

So, after years of imposed loneliness, needing to be loved, to give love, he'd fallen hard for Serena. Not a man for casual relationships, he'd committed quickly to more than an affair. Much more. He gave up his strength for her, and was sorrowfully ready to go ahead with the marriage even when Iolaus couldn't give his blessing and went so far as to walk away…though something felt like it was breaking inside when he watched Iolaus walk out of his life.

But, Iolaus had come back, and Serena had been murdered shortly after. Consumed with guilt, mad with grief, Hercules blamed himself and it was only his friendship with Iolaus, and the help of Xena and Gabrielle, that had saved him that time.

More years had gone by, and Iolaus had gone back in time to save his mother before he'd ever been born. But, then, not long after, Alcmene had died. His father had offered him godhood, and foolishly, he'd taken it, thinking he could do more good, that it would be the responsible thing to do. It had damned near killed him to leave Iolaus, and in the end, he couldn't stand it, couldn't stand the separation. He'd recanted his earlier decision and had returned to earth. Iolaus was all he had left, all he wanted in his life…Iolaus and to do as much good as they could together. He'd pretended not to quite understand Iolaus' reaction on his return, but he hadn't missed it…had been deeply touched by it. Iolaus would never understand how much it had meant to know his buddy had missed him as much as he had missed Iolaus. It had been the right decision…this was where he belonged.

And, he'd brought good news. Hera was in the Abyss…her curse no longer held sway over Iolaus' life. But, Iolaus had just shrugged, as if that information was inconsequential to the reality of Hercules' return…and in the years since, he'd done nothing to sort out his life, nothing to find a woman to share it with, no moves to have a family of his own. Hercules was grateful that Iolaus seemed to want to travel with him, despite the fact that now he had the real choice of another, different kind of life.

They didn't turn down anyone who asked for help. So, when the strangely dressed priests, with the foreign manner had come from Sumeria, they'd gone. And, Iolaus had died. Hercules had done everything he could to get his buddy back, raging against the Fates and the gods of every land. But, it had done no good. He'd lost the light in his life…and he went mad.

Most of that year seemed to be nothing more than scattered fragments of pain and despair. With the druids' help, he'd found his way back to sanity, and he found some measure of comfort with…. But it didn't matter. Nothing really mattered, really penetrated the pain, not the saving of the Norse gods, not even the defeat of Dahok, though he'd at last had his vengence on the creature of utter chaos and evil for having taken Iolaus from him…all it had really won was a final farewell from the man who meant more to him than did his own life. When Iolaus went into the Light, he took Hercules' heart and soul with him.

Oh, he'd gone through the motions, helping the other Iolaus, learning to care about him, getting past the shock and pain of seeing the face, but not the soul…got Jason to take over the Academy. But, there'd been an emptiness, and aimlessness to his life that dogged every step, every breath. Iolaus was gone…safe, maybe, somewhere maybe even wonderful, but gone. By the lonely campfires, or standing in the depths of ancient forests, striding along empty barren coastlines, suddenly with no warning, he'd find himself crying. He'd gasp, falling to his knees, hugging his arms around his body, aching, aching to hear that voice, to see those eyes…. Unable to bear the anguish of it, of the loss, the loneliness, he'd cry out to the empty air, the endless sky, cry out Iolaus' name and listen to it echo back to him, a whisper on the wind.

Sometimes, in his despair, he could almost hear Iolaus calling him and he'd turn, hopeful, desperate…until one day, he even began to hallucinate, seeing Iolaus's face in puddles and reflected back from the shiny surface of a plate, in a fountain…finally, he knew, he was going mad again. Scarcely caring, except that he knew that there were still people who needed him, so he forced himself through the motions of living, turning the rage within at his loss into rage against oppression and blind stupidity.

But, it hadn't been hallucinations, not madness. Thinking back on those moments for the rest of his life, Hercules would never forget the feeling of…he could never find the words to fit the memory. Just the feelings, that had cascaded through his heart, his soul, filling him with such incredible wonder and joy that he thought he might die, bursting with it, shouting and holding Iolaus, weeping and shaking with overwhelming relief and a happiness so bright he'd felt blinded by it, afraid to believe what he was seeing, afraid Iolaus wasn't really real.

Iolaus. Alive. A solid presence in his arms, not a memory, not an illusion. Laughing and pounding on his back. Oh, gods…Iolaus!

And, then, the crushing despair that it was only temporary, not forever…never forever. Fighting the horsemen, knowing they had to succeed, but knowing as well that Iolaus would just be taken from him again, back into the Light, he knew couldn't face losing Iolaus again. In a last desperate move to save his friend's life, to never have to watch him die again, he'd thrown himself at Death, sacrificed his life with the hope that, somehow, his buddy might survive the Armageddon that was upon them.

And, surprisingly, unaccountably, they'd won…the love they had for one another had won a reprieve for the mortals of the earth, and for themselves. The Light gave Iolaus back to him. And his gratitude had known no bounds.

They'd returned to their lifelong habits and friendship, once again traveling together taking whatever life threw at them. They'd even retired once, for about thirty seconds, then laughing, they'd set out again, Hercules' arm looped around Iolaus' shoulders, ready for anything so long as they were together.

* * *

Until now.

Iolaus moaned, struggling to breathe, blood foaming a little on his lips. The fever was burning out of control. Desperate, Hercules fought back, bathing his partner's body unable to imagine losing him again, knowing that this time he never would recover. Gods, he couldn't lose Iolaus, not now, not after all they'd been through, not after the Tarturus of watching Dahok's blade plunge into his chest, killing him…not after the miracle of getting him back.

Hercules looked down upon the cherished face, frightened by its pallor, the gray shadows under the eyes, the tinge of blue around Iolaus' lips. Frightened that the reprieve might be over. Clenching his fist in futile despair, he pounded the wall of the dim, candlelit room. Shoulders slumped, he turned back to the cot and knelt beside it, pulling Iolaus into his arms, stroking the matted curls back from his partner's face as he thought back to their last battle, the battle which had led to this.

* * *

It had been the usual. A hill town, terrorized by an overweening, cruel warlord, had cried out for help. And, they'd answered. Their arrival had bolstered the confidence of the townspeople and they'd been able to get them organized to fight back. Sneering in one confrontation, more verbal than physical, the warlord had promised death would be the reward of their interference in his business. Iolaus had laughed dryly, saying others, better men, had made the same threat to their sorrow. Neither of them had given it any credence. Why should this time be different from any of the other countless times they'd faced similar men, similar risks?

Nor had it been any different. The people of the town won the final battle, though there had been losses. Furious, the warlord had wheeled away with the remnants of his forces, disappearing into the forests to terrorize other people, elsewhere. They'd celebrated with the townspeople that night, enjoying the delirium of victory that had captured the man and women there…music, dancing, good food and wine. They'd been happy to have been of such help.

The next day, they'd set off in high spirits, Iolaus whistling as they followed the track through the forest down toward the sea miles away. Maybe they should have been more alert, more cautious, but they hadn't credited the warlord with the stomach for another confrontation, hadn't thought the man would take the defeat so personally.

But, he had. And, he'd been waiting, his few remaining men deployed to ambush them. The battle had been fast and furious, as back to back they took on the men who had jumped them just before the trail wound down along the base of a cliff. They hadn't been worried, neither of them, even then. Iolaus had taunted them, astonished that they'd come back for more, had been laughing as he'd taken care of those that challenged him, wheeling and kicking, laying about with his sword while Hercules slammed brigands into trees and flung them into the air.

But, Iolaus must have seen something that warned him the ambush itself was just a distraction. Something up on the cliff must have caught his eye.

Hercules had heard him scream out his name, had felt Iolaus' hand on his shoulder as his buddy leapt high behind him, pushing him down. Had felt Iolaus crash hard into his back as they both dropped to the ground, Hercules going low and swiveling, lashing out as he did to deal with the last man confronting him.

Turning, a shattered glimpse of Iolaus on the ground…arrows…the snap of more bowstrings drawing his head back up. He'd grabbed two arrows from the air and flung them back at the archers high above, killing them both. The warlord had stood there with a bow in one hand, his quill empty, glaring down at him, shaking a fist as he shouted, "I told you you'd pay!" Then the brutal, leather-clad dealer of death had turned abruptly, disappearing from the cliff's edge, satisfied with his day's work, though it had cost him the last of his men.

Looking back down with horror, dropping to his knees beside the crumpled form of his friend. Two arrows…no, three. Iolaus had caught one with his left hand, but he'd used his own body as a shield to stop the other two. Arrows aimed at Hercules' back. The one in his hand would have impaled Hercules' heart, the demigod realized later. One arrow had driven into Iolaus' right shoulder, under the collarbone, the other was imbedded further down in the right side of his chest.

"Iolaus!" he'd cried out, moving to cradle his buddy's head with one hand, the other reaching for a pulse. His partner had moaned at the sound of his voice, fighting back toward consciousness, eyes blinking open, a dazed look in them.

"Herc?" he'd whispered, then grimaced in pain, panted for breath to steady himself, to fight off the blinding agony.

"I'm here, buddy, you're going to be okay," Hercules had responded, his eyes going to the wounds, appraising them quickly. Not much blood, not yet. He reached to grip one of Iolaus' hands, pulling it up against his chest.

His partner's eyes had skittered around the trees, obviously looking for more enemies, so Hercules reassured him, "It's over…we beat them."

"You…okay?" Iolaus had murmured then, blood beginning to bubble at his lips, his gaze coming back to Hercules, raking his body before meeting his eyes.

"I'm fine, don't talk," Hercules reassured him, his voice tight, almost cracking.

"Good…" his buddy had sighed, a slight smile on his lips, his eyes fluttering as he struggled against the darkness on the edges of his vision.

"I'm going to take you back up to the town, there's a healer there. You're going to be all right," Hercules blurted, almost babbling, fear quaking in his voice.

Iolaus had just held his eyes, nodding a little that he understood, then faded out, his lids dropping as he lost consciousness.

Hercules swallowed hard, not liking how fast Iolaus was failing, terrified by the blood bubbling on his lips. Moving quickly, he broke off the shafts, lifted Iolaus against him to check his back, but the arrows had not passed through his body…they were imbedded inside of him.

Scooping Iolaus up into his arms, holding him tightly, he had turned and raced back up the track to the town.

* * *

The healer, thank Aesclepius, had been skilled. The wound in the shoulder wasn't particularly serious, barring infection, but the chest wound could well be fatal. He'd dithered, wondering which would be more dangerous, leaving the arrowhead inside, or pulling it out, with all the damage that could do. Either way, the spare, middle-aged man grieved even as he worked over the unconscious body…wounds like this one were unforgiving and he feared his skill would not be enough.

Hercules helped as best he could, holding his friend down while the healer first tended the shoulder wound. Then, when the healer decided the other had to come out as well, but straight and sure to minimize the additional trauma, Hercules had gripped the shattered end of the shaft and hauled the jagged, ugly, bloody projectile from Iolaus' body.

Blood had welled from the wound, bright and frothy before the healer brought down a wad of linen to soak it up, to put on pressure…but Iolaus' ribs prevented him from getting enough pressure on the source of the hemorrhage. Taking a deep breath, the healer had ordered, "Hold this!" leaving Hercules to press down the now soaked pad of linen while the healer rummaged in his bag.

In a controlled frenzy of haste, the healer had cut into Iolaus' body, just below the ribs, directly below where the arrow had entered, and worked with frantic care until he'd found the bottom of the wound. Blood was everywhere, staining his hands, running down Iolaus' body to puddle on the sheet under him. "Heat a knife," the man ordered and Hercules pulled Iolaus' knife from his boot, turning to shove it into the small hearth fire behind him.

The healer worked rapidly with a bone needle and gut, trying to close the vessel he could see pulsing blood into the wound…no luck. Hercules turned back with the white-hot knife, and the man took it, carefully easing the tip of it into the wound toward the bleeder. Herc had reached quickly to hold his buddy down as Iolaus lurched against the torment, unconsciously crying out. The sickening smell and sound of sizzling flesh filled the room. Grabbing again for the needle and gut, the healer pulled the blackened edges of the wound together, stitching it tightly. Then, he drenched both wounds with wine, smeared them with honey and herbs before binding them with clean linen, and then pressed a heavy towel under Iolaus' body to soak up the pool of blood.

Sighing, the man sagged back, his hands shaking. Iolaus lay limp under Hercules hands, his breathing ragged and uneven.

Hercules turned to stare at the healer, his mouth trembling, the question he was afraid to ask clear in his eyes.

Looking away from the terrible anguish he saw there, the man looked down at Iolaus and sighed. Shaking his head, he murmured, "I'm sorry…I doubt…"

"No!" the heart-wrenching whisper cut him off.

Taking a breath, the healer had turned to Hercules, wanting to prepare him for the worst. A wound like that, the danger of infection, the terrible loss of blood…the shock…any one of those threats could, and likely would, kill the man struggling so hard yet to live. But, he couldn't. He couldn't get the words past his lips. These two men had saved their town. Their friendship was legendary. If all he could offer now, in return for all they had done, was hope, then offer it he would. "The fever will likely start soon. Bathe him, keep him as cool as possible without getting a chill. And, get as much water as you can into him. With all the blood he's lost, he needs fluids badly. I'll be nearby if you need me," he'd said, laying a comforting hand on Hercules' shoulder before he bent to replace his tools in his bag and then quietly left the room.

His muscles rigid as he tried to contain his fear, Hercules grabbed the single, wooden chair in the room and set it down beside the cot, dropping into it, his eyes on Iolaus' face. Reaching for one of his buddy's hands, Hercules took it in his own, conscious of how cold Iolaus' hand was. He'd barely noticed when the inn-keeper's daughter arrived bearing a pottery jug of water, a large bowl and a clay mug, which she set on the small table by the bed.

"Thanks," murmured the demigod, turning to pour water into the mug.

Pulling a handful of rags from her apron pocket, she laid those by the bowl. "I'm sorry," she whispered as she left the room.

Hercules eased a gentle hand under Iolaus' head, raising it a little as he held the mug to the slack lips. A little at a time, he let the water dribble into his buddy's mouth, pausing to massage Iolaus' throat a little to encourage him to swallow. But, despite his care, some caught in his partner's windpipe, causing Iolaus to spasm a little, reflexively coughing to clear the passage. The coughing sent spasms of pain through his chest, and he moaned, panting a little as his eyelids fluttered, and finally opened.

"Easy, Iolaus," Hercules murmured, stroking his face. "Sorry, I guess I gave you too much water too fast," he said, explaining unnecessarily, but the explanation held a normalcy about it, as if Iolaus wasn't so hurt, was only a little sick…would get well.

Clearing his throat, his jaw tight against the pain, Iolaus gripped the hand that held his, his eyes pressed tightly closed as he fought for control. Finally, he swallowed, and looked up into Hercules' worried eyes.

"You're going to be all right," Hercules said, the words a mantra he'd be repeating over and over as the hours and days wore on, hoping the repetition would make them true.

Iolaus' eyes shifted to take in the room, as he tried to remember what had happened and silently assessed how badly he'd been hurt from the feel and location of the injuries. Pain stabbed sharply with each breath, flaring in his chest. He was dizzy and disorientated, feeling a bit as if he was floating, anchored only by the pain and the feel of Hercules' hand holding onto his own.

"What…happened?" he panted, his voice weak and rough.

"The warlord ambushed us…you shielded me with your body…took two arrows…." Hercules replied softly, brushing the hair back from Iolaus' eyes.

Scattered images, fragments of action… "Oh, yeah," Iolaus murmured, nodding a little, only to stop sharply when another wave of pain swamped him, making him gasp and grip Herc's hand. "Oh gods," he moaned, holding himself rigid, wanting, needing to breathe, but it hurt so much.

Gently, Hercules wiped the blood from his lips with the back of one finger, his gut clenching with terror as he tried to remain strong, reassuring…Iolaus wasn't going to die. He couldn't die. Gods, please….

Iolaus' eyes flickered, his lids heavy, as he mumbled, "Don't feel…so good."

"I know," Hercules replied, his voice tight as he held a sob back in his throat. "I know, buddy. Let the pain go, let it wash over you, don't fight it. Try to get some rest."

"'kay," Iolaus murmured, drifting away, the darkness preferable to the excruciating pain.

"Just rest," Hercules repeated soothingly as he stroked his friend's brow, blinking back hot tears. He wasn't a fool, he knew what a wound like this meant. But, when the bile rose in his throat, he forced it back down. When the fear filled him, making it hard to breathe, he fought it. And, when his heart twisted with dread, he denied it. He couldn't accept it…wouldn't so long as Iolaus drew breath. His head down, shoulders hunched, he held onto Iolaus' hand with both of his own, held on for dear life.

The healer had been right, the fever wasn't long in coming. Nor was it slow or gentle. The heat rose in Iolaus' body, spiking, raging with its fury, and his breathing grew ever more ragged. Hercules quickly loosened his pants, drawing them and the boots off to allow himself access to his friend's whole fiery body. Ceaselessly, he bathed the fevered limbs and body, taking great care around the wounds, wiping away the blood. He pulled the bloody sheet from under his friend's body, casting it away with a kind of loathing, sickened by the amount of blood that had congealed on it. He wiped Iolaus' face tenderly and, several times, when Iolaus began to cough harshly, he threw the wet rag aside to ease his arm under his friend's shoulders, to raise him a little, his other hand pressed instinctively on the terrible wound to support Iolaus until he stopped coughing and was breathing roughly again.

* * *

Drawn back from his memories of the last day by Iolaus' restlessness, a low moan of pain, feeling the heat rise again in his buddy's body, Hercules had laid him gently back down on the cot. Reaching for the rag, soaking it again in the cool water, he knelt by the cot, to resume the battle for Iolaus' life, grimly, desperately, determined not to lose. Hours dragged by as he fought the fever, endless hours.

At one point, Iolaus began to mumble incoherently in delirium, as he had once before earlier in the evening, and at first, Hercules didn't really pay attention, he was concentrating so hard on his battle with the damned fever. But, then the tone caught his attention, and he paused, listening.

"Don't understand…you don't…" sorrowfully, Iolaus tried to explain something, a hint of desperation in his whispery voice as he tried so hard to be clear.

Hercules' eyes softened, wishing he could do something to alleviate the mental and emotional suffering as much as he tried to bring relief to his friend's body. "Who're you speaking to buddy?" he asked softly. "What don't they understand?"

"Always…loved him…" Iolaus mumbled, his mind lost somewhere in the far east, replaying a conversation he'd had with Yu-lin, the echo of loss in his voice heart-breaking.

"What?" Hercules whispered then, a crease of concentration between his brows, wondering what memories were tormenting his friend.

"Herc…doesn't need me…" his buddy grated, remembered tears clogging his voice, his body restless as it fought the fever and the different kind of pain those words dredged up from his soul.

Stunned, holding his breath, Hercules sank back on the chair, his eyes riveted on Iolaus' face. Shaking his head, he wrapped his arms around his body, listening.

Iolaus thrashed weakly, one hand reaching out, and Hercules reached to catch it quickly, holding on tightly, tears beginning to glimmer in his eyes. But, it was as if his touch settled the hunter and Iolaus lapsed into more sporadic, inarticulate, mumbles. After a time, Hercules stood and resumed bathing his partner's body with an aching tenderness, all the while turning those few broken phrases over and over in his mind.

It was an hour later, when Iolaus jerked and cried out, as if his heart was breaking.

"He's…life…nothing without…him," Iolaus' voice broke, the words blurred, his head thrashing weakly. "Gods…need to be with…him…."

Turning from the window where he'd been staring into the night, staring down the long years, finally understanding how very much he'd hurt his friend when he'd left him behind so often, for so many years. Realizing, too, that he'd never really come right out and said he needed Iolaus with him every bit as Iolaus seemed to need to be by his side, never really told him how he'd felt after losing him to Dahok…and the Light. Tears blurred the demigod's eyes, and his lips trembled while his jaw locked against the sob that rose in his throat. "Ah, Iolaus," he whispered brokenly. "I'm sorry, the last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you."

"…need to…be there," the hunter murmured, as if somehow hearing the demigod's words, but confusing them with Yu-lin in his mind, trying to explain to his teacher, trying to fight through the fog to find the words, "in case…someday…back… him up…die for…him…gladly…."

"Listen to me," Hercules almost snarled through teeth clenched in desperation, leaning forward to grip Iolaus' shoulders, "You're not going to die! Gods, Iolaus, please, you can't die…I do need you, dammit… please, don't leave me."

"No," his partner sighed, still trying to patiently explain to Yu-lin, "doesn't need me…not really…."

Trembling, Hercules touched his buddy's face with his fingertips, felt the heat burning in him, saw the grayness, the blue tinge that persisted around Iolaus' lips. "Iolaus, please hear me," he said, his voice tight, "please…you have to know…gods, I need you so much…."

But, there was no response, Iolaus' head twitched under his hand, another moan slipped past his lips as the pain drew him back deeper into the darkness.

The demigod's lips trembled as he raised shaking hands to cover his face. Bowed over, sinking to the floor against the wall under the window, his heart breaking, he wept. All this time, all these years, he'd never told him what he meant...how vital he was, how necessary…how empty everything was without him.

And, now, it might be too late.

Iolaus could die here in this miserable dark room, never knowing that Hercules needed him just as much, loved him just as deeply, in every sense of the word, as Iolaus loved him.

* * *

A day had come and gone, and it was late evening once more. The fever raged on, and Iolaus seemed to have slipped farther away, no longer mumbling in delirium, still, silent. Too silent. Hercules stared at his partner's face, his chest, willing him to breathe. Because it seemed Iolaus was on the verge of stopping, of slipping away, each slow breath, ragged with pain and increasingly far apart, threatened to be the last. Hercules pressed his fist against his lips, his eyes wet with unshed tears, wondering how long it had been since the last, agonizing breath, wondering if there would be another. Gods, it seemed like minutes since the last, shallow inhalation. Shivering, the demigod reached out and took his partner's hand in his own, as he begged, "Come on, Iolaus, breathe…please, breathe."

* * *

The Son of Zeus had no way of knowing the manner of battle being fought within the hunter's body. He didn't know that the last words Iolaus had consciously heard from his lips had triggered something distant in the hunter's mind.

"Let the pain go, let it wash over you, don't fight it. Try to get some rest."

There were echoes in the Iolaus' mind from another man, another voice, who had spoken very similar words, who had taught him much. As he sank away from the pain, the warrior focused on those words, remembering, letting himself drift far away, to a different time, a different kind of pain…his mumbled incoherent words during the delirium but fragments of the discussions he was replaying in his mind, over and over, like a recurring dream.

He was exhausted, confused, couldn't seem to figure out what was going on. Yu-lin's face, voice, kept getting mixed up with Hercules' visage and tones. The calm, dry touch of his teacher's hand seemed sometimes to be Herc's larger hands, brushing his face, gripping his hand. And, he was so hot, so hot…as if he was trapped in a fire. Thrashing from time to time, he tried to escape, but he was trapped, unable to find a way out, the heat burning the air in his lungs, making it hard to breathe, so very hard to breathe.

Tired.

"Just rest…."

Herc's voice became Yu-lin's, the teacher's dark, inscrutable eyes upon him, instructing him on how to breathe, how to distance himself, stop resisting…how to find his centre, how to master his body for a time. Reaching for the calm, Iolaus gradually stopped fighting the pain, let the heat be there but distant, not oppressive…let his breathing slow until he was hardly breathing at all. Finding calm.

Finding peace.

Inadvertently, Hercules had triggered the one response that allowed Iolaus to give his body space and time to heal. Had he fought the fever and the pain, he'd have exhausted his energy. In fighting, he would have panted, struggling to breathe, and he'd have torn his damaged lung. But, he lay fully relaxed, deep in the trance of healing, his breathing shallow, calm, spare.

The long, endless night wore on.

* * *

The healer, Aleros, didn't know what to think. Two days had passed and the small warrior was still clinging to life. There was infection, but it didn't seem to be getting worse. The fever burned steadily, but lower, not flaring to dangerous heights. Blood had ceased to bubble around his patient's lips. Iolaus seemed remote somehow, oblivious to the pain and suffering his body was enduring…almost peaceful. His breathing, though, was a worry and Aleros could not explain how he still lived when he breathed so little, so infrequently.

Once, a day ago, they had thought the breathing had stopped, the battle lost. The demigod had been shattered, inconsolable, rocking the dead man's body against his own, tears streaming down his cheeks. Hercules wouldn't let anyone touch Iolaus' body, wouldn't let any one else near him. He raged and screamed to the gods to give Iolaus back to him, railed at something called the Light, and the Fates, then had shuddered into silence, the only sound his hoarse, heartbreaking sobs.

It must have been almost twenty minutes later when Hercules' had frozen, holding his breath, certain he'd felt Iolaus' chest move, certain he'd heard a breath…but, then, there was nothing. This time, he sat rigid as a marble statue, staring into his partner's bloodless face, remembering a time long ago, when he'd thought Iolaus dead by hanging, but his buddy had put himself into a trance. Something he'd learned the east, he'd explained at the time. When Aleros again tried to get him to understand that it was over, his friend had gone, Hercules had whirled upon him, enraged, ordering him from the room, insisting that Iolaus was not dead.

Another breath, a single, shallow, swallowing of air….

…long, endless, heart-stopping minutes….

…then, another.

Hercules shuddered with mingled relief, hope and anticipated dread. Iolaus was alive, somehow…but how long could this in-between state last? Gradually, Aleros came to be convinced the man still lived. Skin which should have grown cold remained warm with fever. Hercules finally made him sit, silently, waiting, through two of the breaths to see that, indeed, life persisted in that body, tenuous, held by the merest of gossamer threads, but still present.

The night was endless, or seemed so, when the moments were counted by such separate wisps of affirmation. But, finally, toward dawn, Iolaus' breathing eased back to a normal pace, still shallow, but more rapid.

"He's going to make it," Hercules said quietly, pushing his hands through his hair, desperately wanting to believe he was right.

Aleros' thoughtful gaze moved from the demigod to the seriously ill man on the cot. "Maybe," he temporized. Which was more than he'd been able to offer two days before.

* * *

It was midafternoon of the third day since the attack when Iolaus stirred, and gasped, finally conscious again of the pain that still ripped through his body with every breath. He mumbled wordlessly, then his lids blinked against the light.

Hercules leaned forward, holding tightly to his buddy's hand with one of his own, the other lightly stroking Iolaus' forehead, brushing back the tumbled curls. When Iolaus woke and his gaze cleared, the first thing he saw was Hercules' looking down into his eyes.

"Hey," the demigod whispered, "you're back."

Weakly, Iolaus nodded his head, swallowing and wincing a little against the pain. Hercules turned and poured a small amount of water into the mug, then held it to his partner's lips, lifting his head a little to help him drink.

Grateful, Iolaus sipped at the cool water, sighing with the relief it brought him, but could only take a little before he shifted his head away. Laying him back down, Hercules studied him, still frightened by the pallor, the evidence of fever and pain, the limp weakness. As he watched, Iolaus drifted back to sleep.

The fever broke that evening, sweat pouring from the hunter's body, drenching the cot. Hercules bathed it from his buddy's body, wrapped him in a soft, warm, cotton sheet, then picked him up, holding him while the inn-keeper's daughter changed the linen on the bed. But, once she was finished, he didn't relinquish his burden, needing to hold onto Iolaus physically, needing the feel of his friend in his arms. Supporting Iolaus with his buddy's head on his shoulder, arms holding him securely over his knees, Hercules let his own head rest against Iolaus' and relaxed for the first time since the ambush days before.

The chest wound was serious, and would take time to heal, but for the first time, the demigod really began to believe his friend was going to live.

* * *

Hercules had a lot of time to think during those terrifying days, a lot of time for regrets and a lot of time to decide what to say if…when…Iolaus recovered.

The only questions which remained in the demigod's mind were how to approach the conversation, and when. It was too important to try to work it out while Iolaus was still weak, there was too much he needed to say, needed to tell him…so, as to the 'when', he decided it would be after they left this town, somewhere out in the forest, where no one could hear or interrupt. As to the 'how', Hercules didn't have a fine clue. He'd never been good at talking about what mattered most to him, always got so damned choked up, as if he couldn't feel and speak at the same time. But, he had to find a way.

It was another two days before Iolaus could stay awake for more than minutes at a time. A week before he could tolerate more than water or a clear broth. He'd grown thin during the two weeks, but, finally, the pain had faded to a bearable degree and his breathing was almost normal, only hitching a little when he breathed deeply…or laughed.

One day, while the demigod was changing the dressings on the two wounds, he murmured quietly, "Thank you for saving my life back there."

Iolaus had shrugged a little, blowing off the gratitude, as he said with a trace of humour, "Don't mention it, Herc…that's why you keep me around right? To watch your back? It's my job."

The demigod was silent for a long moment as he bathed the tender, healing skin and replaced the linen bandages. Finally, while he was still looking down at the wounds he was binding, he replied, "No…that's not why I 'keep you around' as you put it, and you know it. You almost died this time, Iolaus. It was too close. You saved my life," looking up now into his partner's eyes, "I would have died if you hadn't blocked those arrows…the one you caught would have impaled my heart."

Iolaus winced and looked away at that, paling a little in the afternoon light. "Don't, Herc," he murmured. "I don't want to think about that."

Nodding, Hercules looked away and cleaned up, putting the used bandages in a sack to be washed. Leaving the detritus of the treatment on the small table, the demigod sat and gazed at his best friend. "You don't want to think about it? But, it's perfectly fine for me to be terrified for days about whether or not you're going to survive?" he asked, his voice steady if a little tired.

"Sorry," replied Iolaus, not looking the least bit repentant, "but if the choice is between an arrow in your heart and you being worried for a few days, I choose you being worried every time."

Hercules sighed as his gaze lifted to the window, past the bed. "I know…you've certainly proven that, over and over through the years. You'd think I'd get used to it," he sighed. Bringing his eyes back to Iolaus, he continued, "But, I don't. I was scared, Iolaus…you'll never know how scared."

This time the hunter's gaze faltered, unsure of what he was seeing in those clear, blue eyes that gazed at him so intently. Not wanting to misread anything, he looked away. "I'm sorry, Herc…I never want to hurt you," he said quietly.

"Don't…" Hercules protested, his voice tight, almost angry. "For the gods sake, don't apologize for being hurt by saving my life, dammit. Don't always try to protect me from everything and regret it when sometimes it's impossible to save me any pain, any worry…and don't feel badly because I worry about you, as if you somehow don't deserve it."

Iolaus' eyes flickered back to Hercules, caught by the tension in his friend's voice. There was something else going on here, but he didn't know what it was…he'd been hurt before, many times. Herc usually gave him a hard time about being willing to sacrifice himself, but this conversation was different. Not about the injuries so much, or even what he'd done to earn them, as about what his friend felt…there was an intensity in Hercules' eyes he didn't understand.

Hercules saw the confusion in Iolaus' eyes and regretted it. Iolaus didn't need this now. It wasn't the right time. Pushing a hand through his hair, he leaned forward to cover his friend's hand with his own. "I'm sorry," he said, "I guess I'm tired. I…I thought I was going to lose you, and, well, you know how crazy that makes me."

"Well, actually," Iolaus replied, a teasing grin playing around his lips, "I don't…I might be the only one who doesn't know what that's like, but I'm not usually in any condition to notice."

Hercules caught the teasing, and smiled a little in response. Leaning forward to ruffle Iolaus' hair, he replied, "I guess you're right about that. One of these days, when you're stronger, I'll give you a sense of how crazy it makes me. But, not today."

Iolaus giggled, as he replied with a tinge of sarcasm, "Oh, great, something to look forward to."

"Hmmm," replied the demigod, frowning a little, hoping when the time came he'd be able to find the words. "I hope so."

* * *

It was three weeks more before Iolaus was really ready to travel, able to walk for longish periods without either becoming breathless or experiencing a gnawing, deep pain in his chest. But, finally, he couldn't stand being cooped up anymore, restless, needing to be on the move, and Hercules was assured of his strength enough to give in.

They left the town early one morning, wanting to slip out, neither wanting nor needing to attract any attention from the grateful townspeople. Hercules let Iolaus set the pace. When they reached the point of the ambush, they stopped, reflecting on what had happened there.

"What did you see that day?" Hercules asked, looking up at the cliff. "Do you remember?"

Following his gaze, Iolaus nodded. "Yeah, I'd just kicked one guy out of the way, knocking him unconscious when I took a quick look up and around, more instinctive really than anything else. I saw the three archers above, the arrows already cocked and knew there was no time to stop them. No time really, even to warn you. I considered dropping to a roll, to knock you off your feet, but if you didn't drop hard and fast, well…I wasn't prepared to take the chance."

Hercules laid a light hand on his partner's shoulder, squeezing it a little, "So, instead, you decided to use me as some kind of vault, levering your hand on my shoulder to lift yourself higher, so that you could cover my back…."

"Yeah, that's about it, I guess…it all happened kinda fast, not a lot of time to think," Iolaus replied, shrugging, not wanting gratitude. He remembered it all clearly, remembered seeing the arrows flying, the stark fear that he wouldn't be in time to block them, catching the one, feeling the others hit him, the force of the blows pushing him back against Hercules as they had both dropped to the ground.

"Not that fast," Herc said softly. "Time enough for you to make your decision about which defensive action you'd take. I know you don't want thanks, Iolaus…but, thanks," he said simply.

Iolaus nodded silently, then turned to lead further down, along the trail, thinking he'd been right all those years ago…that a time had come when Herc really had needed him to be at his back. Grateful to the depths of his being that he'd been there to save his friend's life.

They were well into the forested valley below when Hercules called a halt to the day, seeing that Iolaus' steps were beginning to drag. There was a pleasant little stream, a peaceful grove of laurel trees and pines…it was a good place to spend the night, well away from the main trail, far from any unwanted, unexpected fellow travelers.

Hercules made Iolaus sit by the stream to fish while he set up the camp and got the fire started. Scouting around, he found some late strawberries, some plums and a handful of apples which he brought back to their camp just as Iolaus finished cleaning the fish he'd caught. Hercules took over the cooking, while Iolaus sat with his back against a rock, resting, his eyes closed as he napped lightly in the late, slanted rays of the evening sun. The demigod looked up from the fire, his breath catching in his throat as he gazed at the way the slanting golden light illuminated his partner, as if burnishing him with warmth, his riotous curls a halo around his head. Just like the Light had fallen upon him as he'd risen up and disappeared…. Gods, how could he have gone on if he'd lost Iolaus again…how could he ever face a life that empty again?

Later, after the meal, Hercules forced Iolaus to lie down as he checked the dressings. Satisfied, he decided both wounds could now be left open to the air, only the tiny wounds from the sutures they'd removed a couple of days before not yet completely healed. As he worked, he asked Iolaus quietly, "So…how are you feeling… really?"

"Fine, Herc…really. My energy flags a little, and I don't have quite the same stamina, but otherwise, I feel great," Iolaus replied.

Hercules sat back on his heels as he gazed down at Iolaus. Swallowing, he said, trying to keep his voice light, "You talked…when you were delirious from the fever…you said a lot of things."

Not fooled by the light tone, Iolaus' eyes flashed back to Hercules, wondering why his friend looked so somber. "What things?" he asked, then shrugged, not really concerned. "I was delirious, so it was probably nonsense anyway…."

"Maybe," Hercules allowed, "but…I thought we should talk about it."

"Oh yeah?" his partner replied, curious. "So, uh, what did I say?"

The demigod studied his friend, his eyes in shadow, unreadable, his voice neutral, giving nothing away. "You said you love me…that I'm your life. You said that you would die for me. You said that I didn't feel the same way about you…that I don't need you in my life, not really."

"All that, huh?" Iolaus replied with the shadow of a grin. "Well, no surprises there…you already knew all that, right?"

"Not all of it," Hercules replied. "Not how badly I had hurt you when I left you behind years ago. Or that…"

"Gods, Herc," Iolaus cut in, impatiently, pushing himself up to sit facing his friend, shaking his head, waving the words away, "that was years ago…water under the bridge. It doesn't matter anymore. I was out of my head…caught somewhere in the past, maybe…but…"

Taking a breath, Hercules interrupted, "No, it does matter…and it matters even more that I've never told you, well…" His voice cracked. Dammit…emotions and words, why couldn't he ever mesh them together the way he wanted to, needed to?

"Never told me what?" Iolaus asked, turning back to face him, caught by the tone, the expression on his best friend's face.

"That I actually, do, lose my mind when I lose you," Hercules said quietly, his eyes on the fire. Maybe if he didn't look at Iolaus, just kept his voice steady, he could get through this without his emotions taking over. "As in, go insane, not care about anything, whether I live or die. Feel empty, lost…overwhelmed with how much I need you to be there, beside me. Laughing, carrying on, backing me up, believing in me."

"Yeah, right," Iolaus replied skeptically. "Oh, I know you missed me, and I appreciate that…gods, we've been friends forever. But, Herc…I saw how you fought Dahok. Since I've gotten back, I've heard how you saved the Iolaus from the other dimension, rescued him from the horror of that reality…and I've heard some stories from Jason about how you saved the Norse gods. Gods, when I was reaching out to you from the Light, I could see you, hear you, save that girl from being sacrificed, giving that town what for, just like you always have. Nothing stops you…I try, I know I help…but, we both know you've never really needed me."

Hercules pushed his fingers through his hair, shook his head in frustration. How could he make Iolaus understand? Sighing, he said, "You saw, heard about, me going through the motions…that's not living, that's existing. There's a difference."

"Pretty good motions," Iolaus returned wryly. "Look, Herc, don't beat yourself up. The friendship we have means everything to me…I'm grateful for it. You, and Alcmene, saved my life…helped me find something inside myself I didn't even know was there. I can't ever thank you enough…"

"Enough! Enough with the gratitude, already!" Hercules shouted, his eyes flashing. "You don't owe me, or my mother anything!" Unable to stay still, Hercules got up and began pacing around the camp.

"Herc…" Iolaus began, not able to understand why Hercules was so upset.

"Shut up! Just shut up and let me say this…and listen to me, dammit. Hear what I'm trying to tell you," Hercules seethed.

Sitting back, shocked, Iolaus stared up at his friend, watched him pace like a caged lion. Finally, he said quietly, "Okay…I'm listening."

"Good," Hercules snapped, pushing a hand through his hair. "All your life, you've felt somehow that you don't really matter." His fingers clenched in frustration, his voice somehow freed in anger as it never was with gentler emotions, "If I could thrash your father for putting that crap into your head, or your mother, even, for leaving it there, I would. It was garbage, all of it. You were the one truly decent member of that family. I know you've reconciled with your mother, and I'm glad…but I will never forgive her for what she allowed to happen to you when you were a child."

Uncomfortable, Iolaus tried to put some perspective into the discussion, "It's okay…I've come to understand that they didn't mean…."

"Don't make excuses for them…I don't want to hear them," Hercules whirled on him, one hand up to stop the flow of words. "He beat you and she let him…there are no excuses for that."

Iolaus swallowed and looked away, shaking his head.

Hercules took a deep breath, resumed his pacing, fired by his frustration, by his need to set the record straight as he stormed, "You tell a story about our history that has me and my mother saving you…what about how you saved me? What about how I thought I was some kind of freak? You were the only one in my life when I was a kid who treated me like a normal person. Even my own brother thought I was too weird for words and hated me for the scandal of my birth. And, my mother…gods, Iolaus you went back in time and saved her life before I was even born, facing a homicidal goddess to do it, alone. What you could possibly ever owe either of us after that?"

"I told your mother…the world needed you…I needed you…gods, Herc…after all the two of you…." Iolaus interjected. He wasn't the hero here, he'd never been the hero…just the buddy of the hero, doing what he'd had to do…doing what was right.

But, Hercules wasn't listening. "And, my brother," he ranted on "…after the way he always treated you, like you were some kind of trash, jealous of you…you jumped into a pit to save him from sand sharks! Risked your life to save his and not once, but what…two, three times? Without even thinking about it. Gods, you haven't the finest clue how to carry a grudge…you don't know how not to help people who need help."

"Well…hey, he had a right to be jealous…maybe if I hadn't been around the two of you would have found common ground…." Iolaus temporized.

"He had NO RIGHT," Hercules shouted, whirling around, one arm stretched out as he pointed down at him. "You were the one who was always there for me, the one who stood up for me, the one who taught me stuff, the one who cared about me, loved me…you were my big brother, Iolaus, not him."

Iolaus looked up at the towering, furious, demigod, the firelight burnishing his broad shoulders, catching the ripple of those extraordinary muscles as he paced around the fire, and tried to inject a little levity. "Your big brother…right."

Hercules blew out a breath as he turned to face Iolaus, saying forcefully, not buying the humour, hearing the old insecurity about never having grown any taller. "Yes, my big brother. The one who became my foundation, the one who taught me everything I know about courage, the one who has never, not once, ever let me down. The one who risked his own life to take to the streets rather than put me or my mother at risk. The one who stood between me and Hera's enforcers, getting beat up for his trouble, so bad that he…died. The big brother who has always believed in me, even when I doubted myself. The one I trust with my life and respect more than I respect anyone who walks this earth. The one I'm lost without."

The anger spent, Herc felt his eyes fill with tears and his throat close. Desperate, having so much more he wanted to say, he looked up at the stars, blinking hard, swallowing convulsively. Taking a shuddering breath, he forced the words out, slower now, his voice catching. "How can I make you to understand? Iolaus, those years ago, when I walked away, when I tried to make it without you, it wasn't because I didn't need you, but because I did. I was terrified of losing you, terrified you'd be killed, like you were before you married Anya. And, after that, the first time I let you join me again, I almost lost you to the minotaur. It just proved to me again, that I couldn't protect you…that I could lose you in a heartbeat. I meant it after Hera killed my family when I told you I'd always hold you in my heart, right there with them. Loving you as I had loved them. But, as much as I loved them, love them still…I never needed them the way I need you."

Daring to look at the friend who had fallen silent on the other side of the campfire, he saw Iolaus' head had bowed, and that his buddy had pulled his knees up, his arms wrapped tightly around them. "You are my rock, Iolaus," he said quietly. "Those times, when I thought you had abandoned me, when you took off to the streets of Corinth, when you turned to Anya and abandoned our partnership, the year you went away to the east, I'd never been so lost, so…adrift. The first time, I was angry. The second time, I was hurt. The third time, I just wanted you to come home. When Dahok…took you, and I couldn't get you back, I honestly didn't care if I lived or died. When you went into the Light, you took my soul with you."

When Iolaus didn't say anything, and the silence grew, Hercules sighed and shook his head, moving around the fire, dropping to one knee in front of his friend, a hand on his shoulder, feeling the trembling that had taken possession of Iolaus' body. "Look at me," the demigod said.

Iolaus took a breath and looked up. His troubled eyes searched his friend's steady gaze, searching for the truth of whether Herc really meant it, or was only saying it because he needed to hear it so much, and his buddy knew that now. Slowly, as he read and accepted the truth in Hercules' eyes, his own eyes filled with tears and his lips trembled. Hercules pulled him into a tight hug, Iolaus' face in the angle of his neck and shoulder. Sobs rippled through the hunter's body, quiet, silent, but Hercules felt the tears on his skin.

Hercules waited patiently, just holding his partner, stroking his back, until Iolaus quieted, resting against Herc's chest. His lips against Iolaus' hair, he murmured then, "I had a lot of time to think back there. A lot of time to wonder how you could ever doubt that I needed you every bit as much as you seem to need me. Because of your own childhood, you felt worthless, so you never, ever thought about the impact you had on me. When you lost your family, you didn't want to impose, right? …because Deianeara and the kids were still alive then? And, you felt that you were just a friend, that I didn't have room for you in my life? Not the way we'd been partners before? When I lost them, I didn't want you getting hurt, so I took off on my own, leaving you to think I didn't care. Then, after Xena, when we did start traveling together, because I finally realized what an idiot I'd been to try to protect you when you never needed protection, I never told you why…that it was because I knew I'd been hurting you, not protecting you. And, gods, that's the last thing I had ever wanted to do. Do I have it about right?"

Iolaus nodded his head, sniffing as he sighed, "Yeah…you do. I went away, to the east, because I was afraid I wouldn't be able to keep from showing how much I wanted, needed, the friendship we'd had when we were kids. And, I didn't have the right to impose on you, your family. I came back because I couldn't stay away…I just couldn't imagine a life without you in it. When you shut me out, after Hera…well, especially as time went on, I felt irrelevant to you, and it just about killed me. I was so glad when you let me travel with you again…I can't tell you what that meant. I didn't care if you didn't need me as much as I needed you. I just wanted to be with you. Watch out for you…because you never consider yourself, never worry about yourself."

Hercules shook his head, his voice cracking as he said, "You watched out for me alright. Gods forgive me, I never wanted you to be hurt…but I finally realized that those were the only times when I told you what I felt…when you were unconscious and didn't hear me, needing to tell you…like I kept telling you a few weeks ago, when I was afraid…ever since the Amazons, I've been afraid…that I could lose you…." Hercules took a deep, shuddering breath, then continued, "When you were beaten by the Fire Enforcer, when you…died…I felt as if my heart had been ripped from my body. When Gilgamesh…I went mad. I can't live without you. I'm not whole without you. Gods, Iolaus, when you went into the Light, you took all the light in my life with you. When I finally got you back last year, I thought I'd die from the blinding, incredible, unbelievable joy of it." Hercules swallowed hard. "When Death was riding toward you, I knew I couldn't watch you die again… couldn't bear that. I was happy to take him off his horse and over that chasm if it meant you might survive, somehow. Whatever this Light of yours is, I will be eternally grateful, humble and joyful that it let you come back to me."

Pulling back, Hercules looked down into his buddy's eyes, but his own were far away, remembering, "Back up in that hill town, when I thought you might die…I…" his voice died away, finding no words to express what that horror had been. "But, when I heard you…and thought you might die not knowing how important you've always been to me, not knowing that I need you in my life, the hurt, lost sound of your voice…I…gods, Iolaus… I can't bear to lose you…dear gods, if it's a choice between your life and mine, next time… be merciful. Let me die. But, whatever happens, to either of us…don't ever doubt your place in my life, my heart…don't ever think that I don't need you or want you with me."

Iolaus sighed, bit his lip to stop its trembling, blinked back the tears. "Thanks…" he began.

But, again, Hercules cut him off, "Don't thank me, when you've been the one who has dedicated your life to my well being, who has risked your life more times than I can count, and even died, to save my life. Don't thank me, when you've always given me your trust, given me the confidence to face whatever comes. Don't thank me for having the wit to realize how lucky I am to have you in my life, to have your friendship, to be honoured by your steadfast loyalty and love. Don't thank me for my gratitude to the Fates for having brought you into my life, or to the Light for giving you back to me…for once, just once, let me thank you for all that you give me."

Tears glistened in Iolaus' eyes as he looked up into the night sky, blinking, trying to swallow. Frowning, Hercules sighed as he gripped his friend's shoulder. "Gods, Iolaus…I don't want you to feel bad…I…just had to tell you…you need to know…."

Blinking hard, Iolaus looked back into Hercules' eyes, brilliant in the fire light, filled with consummate love. Taking a deep shuddering breath, Iolaus swallowed, and tried to find the words to explain how much all that Hercules had just told him meant to him. Looking away, he said quietly, "I love you, Hercules, I always have. And, I've always known that you care about me. But, much as I've known there have been times when having me around has been helpful, that I've made a difference, I guess I've never really believed that you could ever really need me in your life, as much I need you in mine. A long time ago, I told my teacher in the east, Yu-lin, that you are my life…in some way I don't fully understand, you are my soul."

Looking back at his friend, he continued fervently, "Gods, Herc…you're…so incredible. Your strength isn't just in your body…it's in your heart, your soul. You're Greece's greatest hero and you deserve to be. Nobody gives as much as you do. I know what people have thought over the years…that I'm a hanger-on, an amusing little guy to have around. Gods, look at us…who could ever believe I'd be of any real help to you? But, I never cared what they thought, not really. I've counted myself lucky to be part of what you do, proud to be the one you call your best friend. I…I've just never been able to see myself as really necessary…."

Reaching out, Hercules pulled Iolaus into a tight hug, looking up at the sky as he murmured hoarsely, "Back up there in the town, you said, 'he's my life'. I want you to know, and never, ever, doubt again, that you are my life, my heart, my soul. I need you, Iolaus…I'll need you for all of forever, and love you for longer than that. Somehow, in a way I've never understood, you are an essential part of my being…that we have a destiny to live, together. I don't know how…I know you're mortal…but I am never letting you go again. I know you think you're following where I lead…but I promise you, I vow to you, I will follow you, wherever I must, if you ever try to leave me again. There is nothing in creation that can change that or keep us apart. I can endure anything if you're with me…but I'm nothing without you. You say I'm Greece's greatest hero?" he asked, his voice breaking. "Well, buddy, you're my hero…you always have been, you always will be."

Iolaus listened, his heart and soul filled to overflowing with his gratitude for hearing the words he'd so badly needed to hear for so long, but would never have ever believed could be true. Felt the strength of those arms that held him as if they would never let him go. Touched to the depths of his being that he could matter this much to the one person who mattered most in his life to him…the one he respected, trusted, loved more than anyone else in his life. "Whatever happens," he murmured, his voice trembling with emotion, "whatever happens, I've known all my life that you are my destiny, Hercules. I've never wanted anything else, anyone else, more than I want and need you in my life. It means everything to me to know, really know, how you feel about me. Thanks for making me listen."

Hercules shook his head, laughing under his breath, shaking Iolaus a little before he let him go. "Well, it wasn't easy…gods, you never stop talking, I can never get a word in edgewise except when you're unconscious…and, on the rare occasions when I have tried to tell you, finally found the words, you've never believed me anyway. Finally, finally, I've gotten through that thick skull of yours to make you understand that I keep you around for more than the endless rabbits you seem to be able to catch."

Iolaus laughed then, too, his spirit light, filled with happiness. And with hope. When Herc said he was going to do something, he did it. So, Iolaus hoped that maybe, just maybe, his buddy would find a way to beat this mortality gig he was saddled with…the gods knew, he was sure tired of dying. But, more, he didn't want what they had to end. Ever.

Bound together for life, he could only hope they'd somehow find a way to remain bound together forever.

* * *

Destiny can be delayed…but never denied. The greatness of their deeds, their courage and valour, the depth and strength of their friendship, will shine through all the ages and echo throughout all of eternity.

But, more than that, their love for, and commitment to, one another would triumph even over death…for though neither of them knew it then, they would both become gods, eternal, everlasting.

If you listen, you can hear them laughing…you can hear the sound of joy.