MY SOUL. . .MY CHOICE!
by Arianna

Note: Having run out of new ideas, I find myself still haunted by a story I had thought not to tell. First, there already are other versions of how the stupid cruelty of season five could have been resolved. And, second, it is painful to remember that season, and all the blinding heartache and anger it generated. However, this story just won't go away. Iolaus wants his own version told, one more true to the myths, less grandiose, perhaps, than being cast as a Guardian of the Light, but one that is more in keeping with his Ancient Greek heritage. In deference to his insistent urging, I find I can no longer resist setting down this tale of how it might have been.

And, of course, since this is his version, references are made to earlier tales he's shared with me, Children of the Sea, Labour of Love, Be Careful What You Wish For, Spirits of Heroes, I Miss My Friend, and One Day, in particular! (These stories can be read at the Iolausian Library.) And, as always, I must thank Pythia for her endless patience and wondrous imagination. Without her, I couldn't have done Iolaus' tale justice!

To place yourself in the season, this episode picks up after Hercules confronts Dahok in Sumeria. Zarathustra does not appear in my version of events. Hercules, Nebula and Morrigan have traveled to Greece and have now been battling Dahok, and his army of zombie priests across the Peloponnese from Sparta to Mycenae, where this story picks up the thread.

********

Chapter One: Out of the Darkness

"HADES!" he shouted furiously, long past tired of being ignored, having had it with guilt, finished with grief and sorrow, done with frustration, and now just plain blazing mad, "SHOW YOURSELF! NOW!!!"

The God of the Underworld rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth with exasperation. It had been months of what seemed like endless pleading, then bargaining, followed by whining and moaning escalating from cajoling through ranting to demands and, now, he was daring to command?

"Enough!" Hades growled, wheeling to leave his private chambers, "I've had a lot more than enough of this!"

But, Persephone grabbed his arm, pulling him back, her eyes wide with appeal as she urged, "Don't be mad at him, he can't help it. He's suffering such pain. Please, just listen to him. Don't, don't hurt him anymore than he's already had to endure."

Hades stood rigid in the grip of her hand, narrowing his eyes as he gazed into hers, wanting to resist but unable to deny her anything when she looked at him like that. Taking a deep breath, he tried to leash in his indignant rage, tried to find some measure of calm.

"HADES!" he shouted again, now daring to beat and kick upon the impregnable sealed door to the God's private chambers!

That tore it.

Hades pulled away from his wife's insistent grip and whirled to face the door, waving a hand to make it disappear, leaving the warrior who had been pounding upon it to stagger awkwardly into the dark but opulent quarters.

Driven beyond even his notable reserves of sardonic calm, Hades strode forward and grabbed the unwelcome intruder by the vest, hauling him close, as he snarled, "If you don't shut up, and I mean NOW, I will personally dump you into the Lethe! Do you understand?"

Iolaus opened his mouth to remonstrate with the god, but at the look in Hades' eyes he managed to stop himself before it was too late. A dunking in the Lethe was the one thing he couldn't afford, and by the expression of unbridled rage on Hades' face, he was one step away from oblivion. Because, that's what it would be, if he couldn't remember, he might as well not exist at all.

And he had to exist.

This was too important.

As Iolaus struggled to fight back his almost mindless, desperate fury, Persephone moved in again, laying a calming hand on the rigid arm that held the warrior captive. "Both of you, stop this nonsense!" she ordered them, tired herself of the endless wrangling.

With a muttered oath, Hades almost tossed Iolaus away as he turned and paced to regain his patience.

Iolaus flashed Persephone a brief glance of heartfelt gratitude, then licked his lips. He had to make Hades listen, had to win his help before it was too late.

"I'm. . .I'm sorry," he choked out, not in the least bit apologetic, "I know I'm nothing but trouble. But, please--you have to listen to me."

Sighing, the God of the Underworld turned to face him, hands on his hips, a long-suffering look on his face.

"What is it this time?" he seethed, still fighting his own anger.

"You have to let me go back," Iolaus replied, hands out, desperate appeal in his eyes.

Hades shook his head as he lowered it and rubbed the back of his neck. "We have had this conversation, too many times. You're DEAD! You've been dead almost a year. When are you going to accept that what happens back there no longer concerns you?" he demanded, sighing with the futility of arguing with this very determined mortal soul.

"Maybe when my body stops walking around KILLING PEOPLE!" Iolaus stormed back, all pretence at calm reason gone. "Dammit, Hades, Dahok is using me to do unspeakable, horrible things! I can't stand it! I have to stop him!"

"YOU CAN'T STOP HIM!" Hades raged back. "He has the power of a god, you are just a mortal, a dead mortal! He's not using you, he's using what used to be your body. There is nothing you can do except lose your own soul in a battle you can NOT win!"

"Then, help me!" Iolaus pressed, not backing down.

"It's not within my purview to interfere in the choices mortals make, or in the evils they must face, even if I wanted to," Hades replied wearily for the umpteenth time, looking away from the righteous, blazing demand for justice in the eyes that stared him down.

"Dahok won't stop with controlling all of humanity. He wants it all, you must know that!" Iolaus cried. "When he's done with mortals, he'll go after the gods. Help me before he's too strongi. If not for the mortals he's torturing, then for yourself," Iolaus' eyes swept the room and he was seized by what could only be called, 'divine inspiration', as he added, "and. . .and Persephone!"

Hades raised a fist in exasperation, ready to blast Iolaus all the way to the Lethe to end this mad, hopeless, endless confrontation, but Persephone called across the silence, "Don't!"

"Bah!" he spat out, whirling away, standing with his rigid back to the both of them, his arms crossed in anger.

"Hades" she began to cajole, but he raised a hand in warning, still refusing to face them while he bit his lip in thought. "Leave me," he ordered with a dangerous growl.

Iolaus would have persisted, but Persephone took his arm and practically dragged him from the chamber. Once they'd stepped into the hall that led to the throne room, the door between them and Hades reappeared, sealing them out.

Iolaus turned to Persephone in desperation. "Please, you have to make him listen. I know what I'm talking about. I know I'm right!"

Frowning thoughtfully, she took him by the arm to lead him away to her private garden. "Walk with me," she directed. With a last frustrated look at the impregnable door, he sighed and nodding, fell into step beside her. If he couldn't convince Hades, then maybe he could convince her.

As they walked down the long marble corridor, lit by flaring torches in wrought iron wall sconces, Iolaus' thoughts returned to the scenes that had driven him to such desperation. Though the god had long since come to regret the gesture, Hades, in an effort to appease Iolaus' persistent, dogged need to know what was happening to his best friend, had given him free access to a window that allowed him to view the reality of the world of living beings. For weeks now, Iolaus had been watching his own body terrorize Nebula and everyone else he came into contact with, lying to people, calling forth an army and laying siege to one Greek city state after another. With growing horror, he'd watched his hand kill innocent people and one city after another fall to the demon who had taken on his dead body.

And, he'd watched as Hercules tried to stop that thing. Watched the grief and despair, the horror that blossomed on his best friend's face every time he had to fight a being that wore the face of his best friend. . .more, which conjured up the voice, the touch and gestures, the expressions of a lifetime friendship to torture the demigod.

Gods, Iolaus couldn't stand it. He'd seen Hercules pass up one opportunity after another to kill the creature, not able to bring himself to do it. And, now, Hercules with Nebula and the woman he'd brought from Eire, Morrigan, were exhausted, taking a momentary respite before resuming their doomed resistance of Dahok's attacks. The demon's next target was Corinth. At that point, Hercules would be caught between defending his brother, Iphicles, and his city,and striking a death blow to someone who in his mind was only too clearly still some vestige of his best friend. Iolaus was terrified that Hercules would hesitate again and be killed. Terrified that Iphicles and all their friends in Corinth would be destroyed.

By him.

By his hand, commands uttered in his voice.

Iolaus was almost mad with terror and helplessness. . .and fury. He couldn't just stand around here, on the Other Side, while his body did such terrible things, wreaked such horror on the mortal world. Couldn't just watch his best friend face such despicable evil alone. Most of all, he was sick with the idea that Hercules would hesitate once too often, and be killed, by his hand. This was his fault, all his fault. If he'd taken even a split second to think before diving in front of that blade, to throw something to deflect it, or to push Nebula out of its path. . . anything, this wouldn't be happening now. He'd reacted, driven by a desperate, unthinking, instinctive, urge to save another life, a life he loved and had unwittingly unleashed the voracious god of chaos and destruction, giving Dahok the freedom to work his demonic will.

He had to do something to make this right, had to battle that demon for his body, had to help Hercules destroy it, whatever the cost. He could not exist for all eternity with this inexpressible burden of guilt on his soul. But, nor would he take the easy way out. The Lethe was there, could make all this easy for him. But, he didn't deserve 'easy'. This was his responsibility. The evil was being done by his hand.

He knew what he had to do, what he'd told Hades countless times needed to be done. He had to get back to the world and move back into his body, distract Dahok from inside, grapple with that horrific mind and give others time to bring the demon down, destroy him utterly, if that was possible. Consign him back into the ether, if it was not. Dahok needed a body to wreak his evil will, and Iolaus had to help take that body away from him.

But he couldn't do it alone. He'd prowled all over the Other Side, looking for some rift, some pathway or portal that could let him escape back into the world. He'd followed the paths he'd trodden with Hercules in the past, or had heard Herc had used when coming here on his own. But Hades had them all covered. There was no way through from this side, not unless Hades let him go, transported his soul to the battlefield. Gods, he hated being trapped like this, dependent on the will of another. So, he'd ranted and raved, argued and challenged, demanded and pleaded, did everything he could think of to wear Hades down, to convince the god of what needed to be done. Pushed as hard as he knew how.

And had gotten exactly nowhere.

Once they arrived in the perfect garden paradise Hades had created for her enjoyment, Persephone moved to a marble bench under a blossoming cherry tree and sat, drawing Iolaus down beside her. As she took his hand in hers, her eyes filled with compassion as she tried to win the truce her husband had been able to attain. "Iolaus, you must let it go. Hades is right, there isn't anything you can do. I know you're suffering you've become almost famous as the only soul in the Elysian Fields who cannot find any peace, but your battles are over."

Iolaus shook his head, swallowing hard, unable and completely unwilling to accept that. Pulling away from her, he stood and paced as he tried, once more, to make her understand. Maybe she could convince Hades if he couldn't. "Look, Dahok is worse than anything you can imagine," he tried to explain, again, an expression of disgusted, sick loathing crossing his face as he remembered, "I've seen his true form. Felt him, his. . .his being as I left my body and he settled into it. In that moment, it was like I was a part of him." Iolaus shuddered with the memory.

His voice a little unsteady with the power of those memories, he continued, "He overwhelmed my senses and everything that he is, has ever been, everything that he desires blazed into me. Persephone, he is destruction, chaos, call it whatever you want. . .I just know he'll stop at nothing to win and when he does, there won't be anything or anyone left!"

Studying him, moved by his passionate certainty, Persephone believed him, but she frowned as she protested, "But what can you, a single mortal soul, do to stop him? Iolaus, he will swallow you up, make you part of what he is, your soul would be lost forever inside that evil. I know you think Hades is being unreasonable but he's just trying to protect you. He will not sacrifice your soul to that monster!"

"I could fight him, try to distract him" Iolaus argued back, turning to face her, arms out in desperate supplication. "I have to do something to help. Hercules," his voice caught, and he had to swallow against other sorrows, another kind of pain, before he could continue. "Hercules is trying to fight him alone. Oh. I know Nebula and Morrigan are trying to help him but it's not enough. Dahok will destroy all of them."

"You don't know that," she tried to reason with him.

"YesI do," he replied hoarsely, his voice aching with his helplessness.

His shoulders slumped as he sighed, an expression of profound sorrow settling over his features as he sank back onto the bench beside her, his face turned away. They sat in silence for a long moment, and then he murmured, his voice aching with hurt and longing, "Why hasn't he ever come?"

When she just closed her eyes and turned her face away, having wondered the same thing herself, many times, he continued, his voice lost in misery, "I know he couldn't get me back, not this time. It was my own act that caused my death. But we could have at least seen one another. And then he'd know that abomination walking around in my body is no part of me! He could be free to do what he has to do to finish this. But. . .I can see he's confused, hoping maybe, if I am a part of that monster, he can still get to me. But, he could get to me here, if he'd only come. I. . .he feels so guilty, and he hurts so much. I want. . .I want to tell him it wasn't his fault." His voice faltered, dropping to a murmur, as he asked, "Why doesn't he want to see me? Do you. . .do you think part of him despises me for. . .for being dumb enough to have finally gotten myself killed? For letting him down. For letting Dahok into the world?"

Persephone shook her head wordlessly, but he didn't see her gesture of compassionate empathy.

His eyes rising to the illusion of a clear, blue sky, feeling utterly lost and alone, Iolaus shared his deepest, most profound sorrow, both for himself and his best friend. Hercules had yet to fully grieve in acceptance of Iolaus' death and until he did, neither of them would know any kind of peace. Sighing with sad reflection, he said softly, "You know, he's never once really wept for me. Rage, horror, frustration, denial, I've felt all that, heard his pain. Buti t's as if he refuses to let go, to weep and move on. Or maybe he has moved on, maybe he never needed, or wanted, to shed tears of grief, maybe I'm the one who can't let go. Everyone else in the Elysian Fields has felt the healing that the honest tears of their closest family or friends bring to ease the grief on both sides of the chasm between life and death. But Herc hasn't. He must still be so angry he really must hate me."

"Oh, Iolaus," she sighed, turning to again take his hand gently in her own, then reaching up to caress his cheek, offering the only solace she could. "You must know that Hercules could never hate you. If anything, he hates himself for somehow failing you, and can't bear to see you. It would mean that it was all true and real, the finality of your death, and he's still trying to deny it, believe that he can still get you back. But, he has no more favours to call in, no way to make a deal with Hades, and he must know that. And, now? I think you're right. Seeing your body, hearing your voice, it only tells him that there might still be a chance that if he can defeat Dahok you'll somehow be resurrected."

Iolaus frowned at her words. She wasn't making him feel any better. The thought that Hercules was eating himself up with self-hatred and denial, grimly hanging onto a desperate hope that he could somehow undo what had been done was worse than believing Herc hated him. Nor did he really want to think that Hercules might actually believe that he was still locked inside a body that had died and was now controlled by a demon. Though he'd seen the confusion in Hercules' eyes as he battled Dahok, Iolaus wondered how Herc could ever imagine that Iolaus was there, a part of that horror, and not be fighting with every scrap of his being to thwart the demon?

Besides, it didn't make any kind of sense. . .they'd seen each other since. . .since Sumeria.

"It kills me that he blames himself," he protested, unconscious of the oddity of a dead soul saying such a thing. "I tried, you know, when I first got here and for weeks afterward, to get Hades to let me see him, if only for a few moments. I was so scared he'd do something to get himself killed. He was behaving like a crazy man. Going to war with foreign gods, screaming at the Fates, cursing destiny, ignoring the peril he was putting himself into. And, he'd turned away from helping people, so bitter and filled with hopelessness. I hate that. I hate that I did that to him. That the memory of our friendship is destroying everything that he is." Iolaus swallowed against the lump of guilt in his throat. "Hades finally agreed to let me see him, giving me those few minutes in the cave in Eire," Iolaus sighed, looking up into the cloudless sky, knowing it wasn't real that nothing here was real. "I tried to. . .to get Herc to understand that it was alright. . .alright to let go. . .to go on. Not to feel guilty or have any regretsbut it didn't help, not him, not me."

"I know," she murmured, gazing at him with profound sorrow for the pain his soul endured. Other souls learned to let go, learned to stop grudging the Fates their freedom in weaving the tapestry only they could design. But, not Iolaus. Whatever tied him to Hercules was stronger by far than any thread Clothos could spin or Atropos cut. He might as well have been condemned to the miseries of Tartarus, he'd not suffer more there than he suffered in the Elysian Fields.

"I have to help him. . .there has to be a way," Iolaus sighed, frowning in furious thought. "There has to be."

"Maybe there is," Hades answered, startling them as he appeared before them. When Iolaus bounded to his feet, hope filling his eyes, Hades held up a hand, his gaze stern, as he warned, "I said, 'maybe'. And, if I decide it is absolutely necessary for you to become involved, you must be certain that you are prepared for the risks you might well lose your soul, Iolaus, before this is over."

"I'm sure," Iolaus replied, needing no time to weigh the odds. He had to do whatever was in his power to do to stop Dahok. . .to save Hercules. . .nothing else, not even the fate of his own soul, mattered.

Hades gazed at him silently, then temporized, "Yes, well, as I said, 'maybe', 'if'. We'll see. Wait here. I'll be back as soon as I can."

The God of the Other Side vanished, leaving Iolaus once again frustrated to be left waiting, anxious to get on with it, and Persephone puzzled, wondering what her husband was up to now, what strategy he had decided to set in motion, and why. Though, she could guess.

Iolaus' reference to the danger Dahok might one day be to her would be more than enough to give her husband pause. Hades liked to pretend he was hard and cold, beyond the passions that drove other gods and mortals. But, she knew he loved her with everything that he was.

If for no other reason, he would intervene in this matter for her, to keep her safe. Always.

********

Hades flashed first to the dark, deserted cavern lost in a maze of caves, appearing on the edge of the deep well to the volcanic fires below. An eerie orange-red glow from the molten rock below pulsed and flared, illuminating the black pumice walls of stone, causing shadows to dance. He gazed at the remains, no more than bone and leather now, and shook his head at the vanity of gods and mortals. No one lived a completely risk-free existence. . .no one could expect eternity was their due, whatever their bloodlines. The God who dealt in death understood better than the others that even the gods could die if someone wanted to kill them badly enough. There would always be a way.

Dropping to one knee, he brushed the dry brittle bones aside and picked up the dagger which miraculously still lay there, forgotten and ignored in the drama and tumultuous emotion of succeeding events. . . .deciding there were sufficient traces of hind blood left to meet the need. Securing the weapon in a pouch under his cloak, he again looked around the dim interior. Xena had killed Callisto here in a blaze of maddened fury, believing that her soul-mate, Gabrielle, had sacrificed herself to rid the world of her daughter Hope.

Xena had gotten off lucky in that skirmish with the evil daughter of Dahok. The Warrior Princess had gotten her best friend back.

Hercules hadn't been so fortunate.

Thinking about his nephew, the god frowned. He'd been surprised when the demigod had not immediately stormed his realm, seeking the return of his best friend's life. He'd waited, dreading the confrontation, knowing that this time there were no grounds to accede to Hercules' demands. But, instead, it had been Iolaus who had hammered at him constantly, worried about the demigod, wanting to intervene to alleviate his friend's overwhelming grief and guilt. Iolaus, driven by his own guilt and grief, had been upsetting everyone, unsettling the routines of the Other Side. Though the warrior'd had enough sense to try to keep his worries from Alcmene and Deianeara, the women hadn't been blind. . .and though they didn't understand what haunted Iolaus so, they, too, had begun to plead with Hades to do something to either give Iolaus peace or restore him to life.

Against his better judgment, Hades had finally capitulated to the ceaseless clamour and worked a deal with his Celtic counterpart, allowing Iolaus a brief reunion in the cave in Eire.

The God of the Underworld reflected on how carefully Iolaus had prepared for those few, precious moments. . .creating a simple ordinary scene of warmth, a campfire, an ambiance of normalcy and calm, doing his best to ease his friend's suffering with no thought to his own eternal grief. Over the years, Hades had come to have some appreciation of why his nephew valued this mortal, indeed treasured him. But, in those moments, watching Iolaus conceal his own utter devastation in order to console his friend, Hades had been touched as he rarely allowed himself to be by the heartbreaking bravery and selfless generosity of the mortal soul.

But, those early days had been nothing compared to the last month or so. Once Iolaus had realized Dahok had taken over his body, was using it first to torment and torture Nebula and was now killing innocent people who would not bow to his rule. . .and was a direct threat to Hercules, Iolaus had been increasingly adamant, verging on hysteria, that he be permitted to fight Dahok. Demanding the right to take his body back if only to see it destroyed so that the demon within it could be cast out. Yelling and carrying on, day and night, pacing in a frenzy of frustrated energy through the precincts of the Other Side when Hades refused his demands, unable to rest, to find any peace. . .well, it had been annoying and time-consuming, to say the least.

Sighing, Hades acknowledged now, to himself, that it had also been noble, evidence of a boundless courage even in the face of impossible odds.

But, the god had held Iolaus off, resolute, though he began to keep a closer watch on the depredations of Dahok as he found himself bringing more and more souls into inventory because of the evil creature's murderous inclinations. And, he'd heard rumblings that the Fates weren't happy. Indeed, there was a rumour that Atropos had gone to Zeus to warn him that this was the evil she had foretold that time years ago when Hera had cursed Iolaus to have never been born. . .the evil that might yet threaten the gods. It was said that the three old biddies were furious, and ceaseless in their efforts to battle the rot that had settled into the threads of their tapestry, shriveling and unraveling it even as Clothos worked tirelessly to spin new strands and Lachesis wore out her fingers, weaving them in to strengthen the pattern.

It was also said they were afraid because they were losing the war with the rot in their web of living thread.

Rumours like that unnerved the gods.

Still, the Olympians had all held back, as yet not directly challenged by the demon in the mortal's body. Hades had been wondering for more than a week now if they were collectively in some state of denial afraid to take on what they didn't understand. . .frightened they might lose. Hiding their heads in the sand, remaining aloof as if this would save them. He had come to believe that they might wait too long.

The gods had watched, with the kind of fascinated awe with which doomed prey watches a swaying King Cobra, as the monstrous evil had unleashed an army of zombie like followers, to march into battle at his command unstoppable except when destroyed. Those mindless creatures hadn't the wit or sensibility to know when they'd been wounded. . .just crawled on, killing until they were killed.

While Dahok laughed.

So Hades had sensed Iolaus was right before the restless, tormented soul had put the threat to the gods into words. This evil and treacherous being of ultimate and absolute destruction would not stop at a simple triumph over mortals. The demon was too arrogant, too full of his own sense of destiny. Today, when Iolaus' words had echoed his own assessment of the demon, had unconsciously underscored the warning of the Fates, and had clearly spelled out the threat that Dahok presented to Persephone, let alone the rest of them, Hades had finally decided he had enough reason to intervene.

Thinking about the knife in his pouch, he marveled again that no one else had ever come to retrieve it. Ares must not know where the remains of Callisto's body lay, and it was certain that little horror, Discord, didn't have a clue or she'd have raided the place long ago. Hades had known, as he knew all things about death, but he'd let it go, left it to molder here in the darkness. Oh, he supposed he could have used the weapon to make his own bid against his brother for ultimate power on Olympus, but he didn't really want it. Having to deal with the other gods and goddesses on a daily basis was more aggravation than he cared to contemplate. He'd made his bid, over the centuries, when Zeus' rule had seemed threatened, largely to keep characters like Ares from assuming more power than he could handle wisely, to keep a balance, not because he ever aspired to be the King of the Gods. He was content with his own domain, where he ruled supreme and unchallenged.

For a moment, he wondered if hind's blood would be sufficient to destroy this god. . .how could anyone know if it only worked on the gods of Greece, or if it had the power to kill all gods, everywhere? Chewing his lip, he reflected that if this didn't work, they might all truly be lost. All that would remain to them would be a collective action, all of the gods of Olympus united against the evil that was Dahok but there was no guarantee that even if they could organize themselves to work together that it would be enough. Cynical and realistic as ever, Hades believed Dahok would tempt any number of them to fight amongst themselves, promising whatever it took, until they'd weakened their own power, decimated their own capacity to deal with him conclusively. Dahok would have them then. . .and would own the world, everything in, above and below it or whatever such a blind force of destruction and chaos would have left to be owned, even by himself.

Too many questions. . .not enough answers. But the blade he now possessed was their best hope. Even if the blood did not kill Dahok, it might weaken him. . .and the thrust of the blade into the heart of the mortal body might be enough, if he were weakened, to drive him from the plane of life, back into the nothingness from which he'd come. The only question now was how to get close enough to the monstrosity to drive the blade into the body he wore. And, ah yes, a second question. . .whether to allow that brave mortal soul to risk his eternity to help in the reclamation of his body.

Cocking his head, as if listening, Hades honed in on Hercules' location. The thought of his nephew made him sigh, and reflect again at how the demigod had avoided confronting Iolaus' specter. And, now, Hades was quite certain, that in his capacity for endless hope, Hercules had convinced himself that Iolaus was locked somewhere inside his own body, enslaved to Dahok's will. In Hercules' view, it was no doubt simple defeat Dahok and free Iolaus. . .save the world and get his best friend back in one bold stroke.

Well, Hercules was about to learn nothing was ever that simple. . .and that he would not be getting Iolaus back.

Not this time.

Atropos had cut the golden thread. . .given the fact that the mortal had managed to have his heart cleaved almost in two by that blade, she hadn't had much choice. Though, rumour had it, she hadn't been happy about it, believing that particular soul still had a part to play in the world of living men. Clothos had whispered as much to Demeter, while gathering wool for her spindle, sighing that Atropos had actually cursed at the time, muttering something to the effect that 'enough is enough and this time, Lachesis, you will not repair it!'.

It was said that the rot of their tapestry had begun shortly after the golden thread had been severed.

Everyone might have been a great deal better off if Atropos hadn't chosen this particular death to be irrevocable. Had she judged differently, one of the gods might have been moved to pity by Hercules' prayers and restored his friend to him while Iolaus' soul, so reluctant to leave, had still lingered in his body, robbing Dahok of the only thing he really needed. Without the shell of an empty body, one that held a warrior's heart, Dahok would never have been able to enter the world.

But, what was done, was done. The evil was now manifest in the world and had to be dealt with.

Sighing, the God of the Underworld vanished from the cavern.

********

They had first confronted Dahok in Sparta, the city state of austere and devout warriors, famed throughout the world. Where else to make the point that he was invincible? Sparta had fallen after less than a week of desperate battle, thousands of the finest warriors Greece would ever know destroyed by the mindless and seemingly endless numbers of priests Dahok had called from the hidden mountain caverns. Then, on to Argos, that fortress lasting less than two days, only this time, Dahok's minions moved on to also killing civilians, women and children. On to the north, they'd marched and the battle had been raging for three days outside of well-situated mountain fortress of Mycenae. But, the citadel had finally fallen, the evil, eerie demonic warriors pouring in through the Lion's Gate, and was burning now above them. Not a soul found inside the fortress was spared. Scores of Dahok's mindless creatures still patrolled the area, seeking yet more mortals to kill, while the main force moved on, heading north.

Over the past several weeks, Hercules had confronted Dahok time after time, being beaten and bashed for his trouble, flung about like a rag doll. . .taunted and tormented to be doing battle with a deadly horror that stalked the earth in his best friend's body. There'd been moments when Hercules had been certain that he could have killed Dahok, but the demon had called upon Iolaus' voice, showed him the desperate fear and helplessness in Iolaus' eyes, unable to believe that Hercules would actually kill him. . .and so the demigod had hesitated.

And, because he'd hesitated, more thousands of people had died.

Hercules had reached the point where he didn't know who he loathed more. Dahok for his wanton, murderous cruelty, or himself, for not having the strength to destroy. . .his best friend. It was crazy, part of him knew it. Iolaus was dead, gone. . .but what if he wasn't? What if Dahok was holding him hostage and in killing the demon, Hercules destroyed Iolaus along with him. Gods. . .how could he do that? Take that risk? The terrible dilemma, being torn by the need to both kill and save, was ripping his soul apart, bringing him to the edge of madness. It had reached the point when he'd run out of options and couldn't stand it much longer. Too many had died. Dahok was growing too strong. He had to choose. . .and, sickened by it, he knew what choice he was going to have to make.

Hercules knew he had to end this, and end it now.

He thought he might kill himself when it was over and pray for oblivion.

Because he wanted no part of an eternal awareness, whether alive as an immortal, or dead as a soul locked in Tartarus, that he might have saved the one person who meant everything to him and, instead, had killed Iolaus, one more time.

And now, they were in the midst of another fruitless confrontation in which Dahok was taunting Hercules by telling him about how the demon had gotten Iolaus to join with him to make the world a better place specifically by having godly powers to do the things that needed to be done. Hercules had encountered the demon in a wide meadow below the ramparts of Mycenae and knew as soon as he'd loped into the clearing that the demon had been anticipating his arrival.

"Ah, Hercules," Dahok had greeted the demigod, standing in his white robe as if his garment made his hideous filth something clean and pure. His tone was rich and mellow, reasonable if a trifle sorrowful, as he encouraged, "Come, let us talk quietly for a moment in the midst of all this madness."

"I have nothing to say to you, Dahok," the demigod had snarled, looking around the landscape, wondering if this was the moment to attack the demon and try to defeat him one more time.

Dahok sighed and shook his head as he continued, "I simply wanted to tell you about Iolaus, about how he came to give me the right to use his body. . .and why he joined with me to change this world."

"Iolaus would never 'join' with you," Hercules spat, his eyes blazing at the insult to his friend.

"But you're wrong, and if you'll listen, I'll explain," Dahok insisted, and when Hercules remained silent, trying to contain his anger and think clearly, the demon continued. He told a story about how he had met with Iolaus and laid out his plans. . .had shown Iolaus how he could use greater powers for the good of humanity. His tale revealed how he had tormented and tempted Iolaus with the power of a god, including tricking the warrior into condemning a still innocent man to death, hurtling from a narrow foot-bridge into a deep river gorge, to save a family the man might have killed. The demon painted powerful images, the scenes flashing before Hercules horrified eyes, up to the moment when Dahok revealed how Iolaus had clasped his hand in final, desperate agreement.

Hercules jerked his head away from the images, not wanting to believe the demon. "You must have tricked him," he stated, his voice hoarse as he stared the demon down. He knew he shouldn't listen. . .should in fact attack the monster, destroy it. But. . .he couldn't. Afraid that Iolaus was trapped inside that creature, and would be killed, he could not bring himself to take that last final act.

"Do you have so little respect for your friend's instincts and intelligence, Hercules, or are you jealous that he has abandoned you to join forces with me? Or is it simply that you cannot believe Iolaus would have the wit to act on his own, without your lead. After all, you are the hero, aren't you, and he was only your loyal follower. You know he'd have been nothing if not for you," Dahok taunted, his eyes glittering, his tone sarcastic.

"That's not TRUE!" Hercules shouted back, his voice ringing with intensity, hoping somehow that Iolaus could hear him, would know he still believed in Iolaus' decency and courage. "Iolaus is the best man I've ever known. A hero. My hero! I don't know what his life would have been like if he'd never met me, but I do know that my life would never have been the same. He never 'followed' me. Iolaus was my partner, my equal and my inspiration. I WILL NOT listen to you demean or diminish him! If you have him in your power, it is not willingly, I KNOW that he is a hostage to your appalling and horrific powers. He'd stop you if he could."

With that, furious and sick at heart, Hercules had wheeled away, to join Nebula and Morrigan in a small glade at the edge of the forest. They'd been watching, listening, with varying degrees of disgust and empathy. Breathing hard, Hercules brushed by them, his jaw tight, fury and helplessness in his eyes.

Morrigan and Nebula silently watched Hercules as he leaned back against the trunk of a tree, exhausted, bruised, bleeding from scrapes on his arms and chest. Neither of them had ever seen him look so ravaged before. Wearily, he'd closed his eyes as he tried to shut out Dahok's taunting words. . .tried to block out the sound of the only voice he really wanted desperately to hear.

'Gods, Iolaus,' he prayed to his friend as he'd never prayed to any god, 'I can't stand this. . .can't do this please, show me another way. . .I need you.'

"Come on, buddy," the creature called from the clearing not far from the small glade where they'd taken refuge, knowing they were there. Called in Iolaus' cajoling tones, "I know you miss me! It doesn't have to be this hard, Hercules. Why do you keep fighting me? Join me and together, we can fight the gods, like we've always done. Only, this time, we could destroy them all! C'mon, Herc, whaddaya say?"

Hercules bowed his head and shook it, not bothering to answer. The voice might be Iolaus' but the words were not any that his best friend would ever utter. Instead, he again grappled with how to defeat the creature without killing it. Having deluded himself with an unquenchable hope that there might still be a way to get Iolaus back, he'd convinced himself that Iolaus' soul was captive, somewhere inside, and he couldn't risk murdering his best friend. Believing Iolaus was still somehow there, in his body, was better than what he'd feared for months. . .that Iolaus was lost, forever and irrevocably. He might finally have found a way to get Iolaus back. . .if only he could find a way to destroy Dahok while sparing the body he wore.

But, he just couldn't figure out how to do it.

And, he was honest enough to know he'd run out of time, even if he wasn't quite ready to admit it.

"You canna' give in to him, Hercules," Morrigan hissed, impatient to be done with this, to kill the evil thing while it was close, not more than two hundred yards away. Before they had to once again chase it over this wretched dry country of endless mountains and rugged hills. Before Dahok killed anyone else.

"I'm not giving in," the demigod replied wearily, rubbing his forehead, pushing his hair back as he stood away from the tree. He was pale, haggard. . .broken.

"Well, you're not doing much to stop him, either, I have to say!" she countered, wanting to fortify him. They'd need his strength to win this final battle with the demon. "He's an abomination and we have to destroy him."

"No," Hercules replied, his voice dull and hopeless, belying his words, still not ready to concede, "there has to be another way." But, there wasn't. . .he knew it in his broken heart, in the depths of his ravaged soul. He was going to have to kill. . .but his mind again flinched away, unable to face the task ahead.

"What other way?" the Druid of Justice demanded hotly. "You've seen what he can do. He's killing people by the score, his army of zombie priests killing hundreds, maybe thousands. . .and why? Because you can't bear to damage that precious body."

"Enough!" Hercules rounded on her, tired of her lack of understanding, of her constant nagging that he should just kill the creature and be done with it. Tired of the fact that she clearly had no empathy for the fact that he might also be murdering the best man he'd ever known. "I know what he and his army are doing! Gods, they've already taken Sparta, Argos and Mycenae and now they're marching on Corinth! My brother is the King there! I want to stop Dahok as badly, more, than you do. But, I can't risk. . ."

"Hercules," Nebula cut in, her voice and face strained, burdened by the grief of what she felt she had no choice but to counsel now. "I know you loved him. I loved him, too. Gods, he died for me. But, Iolaus is DEAD. That thing out there isn't him. Morrigan is right. We have to destroy him before it's too late."

"You don't know that," Hercules protested, the strain of hope and despair warring for dominance in his voice. "You don't know that Dahok doesn't have Iolaus there, with him, held hostage."

"If he's a helpless hostage, won't he be hating this, wanting it to be over?" Morrigan interjected, her tone hard. She didn't want to hurt Hercules, but she had to make him see sense. One man's life could not be worth this cost, no matter how decent or good he had been. "Yer fine friend would no doubt welcome death at this point. And, if he's not helpless, then he deserves to be destroyed along with that terrible demon that's wearing his skin."

"Iolaus would never allow this if there was anything he could do to fight back!" Hercules thundered at her. "You never knew him. . .you have no right to demand."

"Rights, is it?" she sneered, her eyes flashing. "And what gives you the right to stand back while that thing kills innocent people? Face it, Hercules, either your friend is dead or he soon will be, as soon as we figure out how to kill that beast in his body. I say, kill the body and the beast with it."

His gaze shifting from Morrigan's contemptuous gaze to Nebula's haunted one and then to the ground, he shook his head, not wanting to hear them, not wanting to acknowledge that they were right. Horror blossomed in his breast as he clenched his fists. Gods, how could he do this? Not knowing.

"Settle down, all of you," intruded a cool voice. "You don't yet possess the weapon you need to take down a god, and that's what Dahok is, for all that you call him a demon. Nothing that would kill a simple mortal will destroy him."

They wheeled in shock to see the black-cloaked god observing them with a disdainful glance. But, before Hercules could demand to know why Hades had appeared, Dahok, vastly amused by the dissension he was causing in their ranks, called out again, this time using his own deeper, more mellow voice, "Hercules, tell you what. I'll make you a deal. Give me your body and I'll release this one back to Iolaus. You could save him, Hercules. Isn't that what you want most. . .to save your best friend?"

The demon lied smoothly, with no compunction. He didn't know where Iolaus' soul was, only where it wasn't. And, he sure wasn't holding the warrior's spirit hostage, it was the body he'd needed, not the soul. Once Iolaus' body had conveniently died, his soul had served no purpose except to vacate the vessel that the demon needed. And, once he'd finished with this inferior body, and removed the power that kept it whole, the empty vessel would corrupt quickly.

But, by then it wouldn't matter.

He would have a far superior body and as for Hercules' soul? It could go wherever it wanted but there'd be no room, or need, for it any longer in the body it currently wore.

"What do you say, Hercules? Do we have a deal?" he called again, smiling coldly, knowing he driven the demigod to the point where such an option might well be irresistible. The fool was arrogant enough to believe he might triumph in a battle of wills for the control of his strength.

"Hercules! You can't do that!" Nebula and Morrigan had shouted together, horrified and appalled.

But, Hercules had only stiffened at Dahok's words, ignoring the women, his expression distant and thoughtful. This was a new offer and one he was prepared to consider. He could save Iolaus and fight Dahok on his own turf, with his spirit and mind, not just his strength, hold the demon back from absolute power, destroy him from the inside.

It might work.

Hades had heard enough. Dahok's words more than confirmed Iolaus' assessment and the Fates' dire warnings and the god didn't like the speculative look in his nephew's eyes. It was time for Hercules to face the cold, hard, facts or he might give in to Dahok's ploy. "That's it," he said, moving in too quickly for the distracted demigod to react. Grabbing Hercules by the arm, Hades growled, "You're coming with me."

The two warrior women, one a Queen and the other a Druid, gaped as the stranger and Hercules vanished.

"And who the divil might that grim fellow have bin and where has he taken Hercules?" Morrigan demanded, whirling on Sumeria's tall and imposing ruler.

"Damned if I know," Nebula replied flatly, frowning. Bracing her hands on her hips, she blew out a disgusted breath and looked away, heartily sick of it all. The horror of seeing Iolaus' body used this way. The perpetual grief of hearing his voice and knowing it wasn't the man she loved. The haunted look on Hercules' face, understanding that it didn't begin to convey the suffering in his heart. The death that had surrounded them for weeks now. The helplessness of not being able to stop the demon from desecrating her lover's body, using it to kill and maim, terrified that Iolaus was still there, somewhere inside, tortured by what he couldn't control, destined to die again, once they found a way to destroy the demon.

Nebula hated it. . . all of it.

And, this mouthy little harridan from Eire wasn't helping any.

'Justice,' the Queen thought disparagingly as she turned her gaze back to Morrigan. Nebula wondered what this woman knew of justice, for all that it was her domain back on her northern, misty isle. If there'd been any justice in any of this, it wouldn't have been Iolaus' body that Dahok was wearing.

With a shaft of terrible guilt, Nebula knew it would have been hers.

********

"Hades! What are you doing? I don't have time for this!" Hercules railed at his uncle, furious to have been pulled away with no choice in the matter just when he'd been given an offer he'd seriously considered taking.

"Make time," Hades replied coldly, as he waved at someone behind the demigod's back to draw them forward.

Caught by his uncle's action, realizing for the first time that his uncle had brought him to Persephone's Garden in the centre of Hades palace temple on the Other Side, Hercules stiffened at the way the god was looking past his shoulder. The demigod didn't want to turn around, didn't want to know. . .didn't want to face the end of all hope. . .or the reality that had haunted his thoughts and dreams for almost a year.

Iolaus. . . dead. Locked forever on the Other Side.

"Hercules?" The warm, so familiar voice was almost tentative as it cut across his thoughts and touched his tattered soul.

"No," the demigod whispered, bowing his head, closing his eyes against this no longer avoidable truth.

Iolaus' voice. Here, on the Other Side. Not in that body. Here. Iolaus was here. . .dead. Irretrievable. He had nothing to bargain, no debts to trade. If he'd had any means by which to rescue Iolaus from Elysium, he'd have come here long, long ago in the hope of finding him here. But, he hadn't anything, any way, and so he'd avoided this final truth, unable to face it and finally convincing himself that Iolaus had never been here, but was still locked within his body, still accessible, still capable of being restored to life.

But, he wasn't. And now Hercules knew it. It was all he could do to remain standing, to not fall to his knees, finally and utterly defeated by a fact he couldn't change. Iolaus was dead. . .forever gone.

Hades moved off to join Persephone, to draw her a little away. They'd get nowhere until these two men had found some way to bridge the chasm of guilt that yawned between them.

"Herc, don't shut me out like this!" Iolaus insisted, moving forward to take his buddy's arm and turn him around.

But, Hercules flinched away, leaving them both frozen, locked in their emotions. The look of shock and infinite hurt on Iolaus' face as he stared wordlessly at Hercules' rigid back pulled at Persephone's heart, but she could also feel Hercules' pain. She thought she might weep for them both as she felt Hades' grip on her arm tighten. Glancing up at him, she read anger in his eyes. He'd expected more from his nephew, the mortal's soul deserved better.

Finally, an eternal moment later, Hercules took a deep breath and turned slowly, his shoulders slumped, his posture one of abject defeat. Lifting eyes reddened and glistening with tears to Iolaus' tortured gaze, the demigod sighed heavily, then murmured, "I. . .I didn't want to believe"

"What? That I'm dead? Gods, Herc, you saw me die! And I told you in the cave that I was really dead, for good this time. What? You'd rather think I'm part of that monster?" Iolaus interjected, hurt, angry. "You could have easily found out, you know, you could have come to see me."

Hercules swallowed hard and looked away, shaking his head again as he lowered his gaze to the ground. "I couldn't come until I had a way to get you back. . .I couldn't face you" he replied, his voice distant, haunted by the unendurable despair he'd carried since that terrible moment when Iolaus had left him, and he'd felt the massive chill of death sink into his own soul.

Iolaus rubbed his hands up over his face, through his curls and then dragged them back down his cheeks again as he tried to get hold of his emotions. But, he wasn't having much luck. Seeing Herc like this was tearing him apart. And, he was carrying his own devastating burden of guilt and grief. He'd been waiting for Hercules to come to see him, to at least visit if not fight for his return, for almost a year. And, he'd convinced himself that Herc hadn't because, when you got right down to it, the demigod had to be furious that his friend had sacrificed his life. He should probably count himself lucky that Hercules hadn't just slugged him for having caused all this trouble.

But, now was not the time to deal with any of that. There were more important things at stake.

Licking his upper lip, Iolaus finally replied as calmly as he could, "Look, we can have a guiltfest later. Right now, we've got to deal with that monster. I want him out of my body, and I want to stop him from hurting any more people. So, how're we going to do this?"

"'We' aren't going to do anything, Iolaus," Hades informed him, drawing back into the conversation. "I have decided that I will not allow your soul to be put at risk."

Iolaus rolled his eyes as he threw up his hands, turning in a small, frustrated circle. Pointing at Hercules as he argued with the god, he blurted out angrily, "All my life, he insisted on protecting me, ending up in an agony of guilt and anger when he couldn't. And, now, you want to protect my soul. What do I have to do to convince you that neither of you have that right or responsibility. It's my own fault that I'm dead and it's my soul, my choice and my body we're talking about, in case no one has noticed. So, I repeat, how are we going to do this?"

"Iolaus," Hercules moved to intervene, Hades words having broken through his daze of pain. Iolaus' soul was at risk? Gods, 'dead' was more than bad enough 'oblivion' was inconceivable!

But, Hades raised an imperious hand, drawing both of their attention. "Look, just settle down, this might not be all that difficult," he counseled in his austere, remote way. "Hercules, I heard Dahok make you an offer that would let you get close to him. Once you do, you can kill him with this." The God of the Underworld drew the dagger from his pouch and held it out to Hercules.

Both heroes recognized the knife Hercules had pounded into the stone balustrade at Ares' Temple two years before. Iolaus whistled softly then muttered wryly, "Well, that oughta do it."

Hercules cut him a quick glance as he moved forward to take the weapon from Hades, staring at it a moment, remembering what Iolaus had gone through to get it. . .how he'd saved Alcmene's life from Callisto, and his own, before he'd even been born. Nodding silently, he secured it in his vest. Now that he knew Iolaus was not trapped within his body, there was nothing to restrain him from destroying Dahok. Perhaps, if the Fates smiled upon him, the demon would also kill him and he'd finally be released from this unendurable pain.

"Wait a minute," Iolaus challenged, frowning as he worried over Hades' words and the look on Hercules' face. "What did you mean that Herc could get close to Dahok. What offer? And how close? Hercules won't get any second chances, you know."

Hades gazed at Hercules as he replied, "Dahok has offered to exchange your body for Hercules' body and has promised that you would be restored to life if Hercules agrees."

"What? Is that possible? No, wait, it doesn't matter, no way!" Iolaus protested, looking from the God to his friend.

But, the look in Hercules' eyes said only too plainly that he would still consider the deal if it was possible. He looked toward Hades, one brow quirked in silent enquiry.

But the God shook his head. "No, it is not possible. Dahok lied to you, Hercules, to gain your willing agreement to cede your body to him. When he is finished with Iolaus' body, he'll simply discard it without a moment's thought. He hasn't the either the power or the inclination to bring Iolaus back to life."

The demigod swallowed and looked away, sagging a little as yet another bleak hope was crushed, returning his gaze to his friend when Iolaus sighed with relief, "Well, that's good." Catching Hercules' look of surprise, he clarified, "I mean, not good that I can't get my life back but good that you won't be tempted into such a stupid deal."

"Alright, then, that's settled. Come, Hercules, I'll take you back and you can" Hades broke in briskly, wanting to get this over with.

But, Iolaus cut him off,which he'd taken to doing with annoying regularity throughout this last sojourn on the Other Side. "Uh,not quite. I don't like the idea of Hercules doing this on his own. Dahok is more powerful than anything we've ever gone up against. If he senses that Herc is up to something, or fights back, I gotta tell you, Hercules won't stand a chance. That monster's just been playing with him, letting Herc believe that he has the strength to resist that power. But, believe me, Hercules doesn't and if Dahok gets control of his body, we'll be up against something none of us wants to think about."

Setting his irritation with the aggressive little mortal aside, Hades nodded thoughtfully, "Fair point. I assume you also have a suggestion. It seems you always do."

"Well, yeah. . .I do," Iolaus replied, avoiding Hercules' eyes, keeping his gaze locked on the god. "We need a distraction, so Herc can do what he has to do. No one else will be able to get close, without alerting the demon, and his zombies can restrain an ordinary mortal. . .but a ghost might be able to sneak up on him."

Hades frowned heavily at the idea, knowing exactly what Iolaus was suggesting. The intrepid little soul seemed to be determined to risk all that was left of his essence. But, before he could reply, Hercules pulled his friend around to face him. "What are you talking about?" the demigod demanded, certain he wasn't going to like it.

Iolaus' gaze was clear, resolute, as he replied, "It's my body. I can slip back in, distract him long enough for you to. . .to kill him." Both were only too conscious that they were talking about Hercules burying the knife in his vest into Iolaus' body and now Iolaus was planning to be there, inside, when he did it.

Horrified by the idea as he realized now what Hades had decided to prohibit Iolaus from doing, shaking his head in numb denial, Hercules protested, "No, Iolaus, it's too dangerous. What would happen to you when I kill Dahok?" But, then, another grim, desperate hope captured his thoughts and he turned to Hades, inexpressible longing in his eyes as he asked, "Unless. . .Hades, if Iolaus was in his body, and the hind blood kills the demon wouldn't he, Iolaus I mean, still have a chance to live?"

Both of them turned to Hades for the answer to that question.

The god squeezed the bridge of his nose. What was it with these two? They both seemed to think that Iolaus could wander in and out of the Underworld, in and out of his body, in and out of life, virtually at will. Sighing, he had to concede he held some of the responsibility for that. "What do you imagine, Hercules? That you could just scratch Dahok's arm and the hind's blood will do the trick?"

"Well, yeah," nodded the demigod, a little diffidently. Not sure why Hades made it sound so stupid. Why couldn't it work?

"No way!" shouted Iolaus, now that Herc's intentions were clear. He'd thought his friend had simply been asking if Hades would allow Iolaus to live again, a kind of exchange for ridding the world of Dahok. But, Iolaus knew a superficial wound, however fatal it might eventually prove to be, couldn't be fast enough they had to be sure that Dahok, and the body he wore, was dead, period, full stop.

The quicker, the better.

"Look, even if it's only a pretense to get close, Herc will have conceded his body to Dahok. If that monster has any time at all, he'll fight Hercules, move into his body and whatever effects of the hind's blood in my body might have on him will be lost," Iolaus argued. "Dahok will be armed, too, you can bet on that! If he takes over Herc before the hind's blood gets to him, it'll be game over. We can't risk that!"

"Hmm," Hades mused as he pondered the dilemma, causing Iolaus to flick Hercules an 'see, I told ya!' expression, which the god wiped from his face by asking wearily, "And you, Iolaus, do you think you would just trundle back here as soon as Hercules sticks it to Dahok?"

Iolaus shrugged, "Sure, whatever, why not?" He hadn't thought much about it, in all honesty, but nor did the possible dangers sway him from his steadfast commitment to stop Dahok. He'd faced the prospect of what this might ultimately cost and he had accepted it. But, he didn't want Hercules to realize what the price might be. Not yet. Not while such an appreciation of the risks might compromise Herc's determination to act, to do what had to be done.

But, Hades' question spurred Hercules to demand, "What could happen to him? What did you mean earlier that his soul could be at risk?"

Ignoring Hercules as he studied Iolaus while he considered the risks either way, Hades' eyes narrowed as he shook his head. No soul deserved oblivion and this particular soul deserved a whole lot better than that. Finally, he responded, holding Iolaus' eyes with his implacable gaze, "If you were quick, you might make it out. But, we don't know if the hind's blood will utterly destroy Dahok or only weaken his hold on a body that is once again irrevocably rendered incapable of life, which," he added, shooting a quick glance at the demigod, "Hercules, is why you must deal a death blow." Hades once again sought and held Iolaus' steady gaze, as he continued, "If the poison doesn't work instantaneously, Dahok will no doubt be in a furious rage. He'll want to make someone pay for getting in the way of his grandiose schemes. . .he's likely to drag you along with him into the void."

"Don't worry, I'm quick," Iolaus assured him cockily, waving off the possibility of not being quick enough, not wanting anymore details of what might happen, not at least so long as Hercules was there to hear them. Well, actually, even if Herc wasn't there, he wouldn't want to hear the details. If it happened, it happened. Knowing what it would be like, worrying about it in advance, wouldn't help anything.

"Drag him where?" the demigod asked, not to be put off. His chest was tight with anxiety, his throat thick with fear for what his friend was proposing to risk. 'The void'?

"Down into the abyss of oblivion. . .an endless fall to nothing," Hades replied starkly, not surprised to see all the blood drain from Hercules' face at that horrific prospect.

"An endless fall, huh?" Iolaus mused into the silence, then grinned as he shrugged, "Well, how bad could that be? It's the landing that hurts!"

Hercules swatted him, unconsciously reverting to old and dear habit, eliciting a startled, 'Ow!' and a giggle that went straight to the demigod's heart. Shaking his head at the predictable response, Hercules turned to Hades. "Since my partner doesn't seem to grasp the simple fact that the risk is unacceptable, why don't we just leave him here to think about it while you take me back."

Iolaus' grin vanished as if it had never been. "Partners work together, Hercules,or is it that you've just forgotten that you ever had one? The gods here know, you sure haven't bothered to check up to see how I was doing. You've never even bothered to weep grieving tears for me, not once. I guess maybe I never deserved them. Or, maybe, you're just plain happier with your new partner, Morrigan, and you figure she'll be all the help you need," he challenged, his voice cold, knowing it wasn't fair, beyond caring at that point. He was not about to let Herc take this monstrous risk alone. "Well, she won't and if you try to do this on your own, you'll only make things worse."

Hades winced when the demigod visibly paled, cut to the core by the harsh words. But, Hercules had been pushed too far. Rounding on Iolaus, he shouted, "Morrigan has nothing to do with any of this and you damn well know it! What do you want from me? This is about you pushing me into a position where I'm forced to drive a knife into your heart. . .not your 'body's' heart, Iolaus. . .yours. Because you want to be in there, fighting with Dahok, when I do it. Knowing that I might not just be killing you again but that I might destroy everything, every last thing, that you are. How can you even begin to suggest that? Dammit, Iolaus, I dragged you into this mess even if you didn't help by leaping straight into it! It's up to me to do what I can to fix this, to not hurt you any more than I already have. I will not allow you to be part of this!"

"Oh, so here it comes, the 'it's my fault but you're stupid,' routine," Iolaus shouted right back. "Allow me? Who are you to decide my fate? 'Leapt straight into it?' Yeah, I guess I did. But, you'd have done the same thing before you just stood there and watched Nebula impaled by that blade, don't try to tell me you wouldn't have! And you'd be just as determined as I am now to make this right, if you were stuck here instead of me! As for 'dragging me into this mess', that's just plain garbage but you sure haven't done much to try to get me out of it."

"That's not true!" Hercules raged. "I did everything I could to get you back. . .everything! I would have given my life if that would have made any difference!"

"Everything but come to see me, to try to bargain with Hades!" Iolaus slammed back. "Oh, I know it would have been useless. But, do you know how long I thought it was because you really did blame me, and hated me for letting you down? And, then, when Dahok took over my body, how often I've wondered if you blame me for that too, because I practically gave it to him?" Iolaus stormed, all the pain of the last long months pouring out as he shouted up into his partner's face. "Dammit, Hercules. How could you abandon me like that, to face that guilt alone?"

"Abandon you?" Hercules gasped, the fight gone out of him at the naked agony in Iolaus' voice and eyes. "Abandon you?" he repeated, his voice cracking, "Iolaus, I've carried your memory with me every moment of every day. But, I have not been able to mourn you, weep for the hopeless loss of you, because I can't face the fact that you're dead and I can't do a damned thing to change that fact! I'd give anything to get you back again. Anything."

"So you really would have given in to Dahok," Iolaus glared at him, his suspicions confirmed. "How dumb is that? It's not enough that I fell for his tricks, you were going to risk letting him have you." Turning to Hades, Iolaus snapped, "You see? I can't let him out on his own. He's crazy! Dumb demigod. And you're going to trust him to do this on his own? I don't think so."

Hades was grinning, no, actually chuckling, as he gazed from one to the other.

"Hades! This isn't funny!" Hercules snarled, wondering how much of what Iolaus had said he'd really meant, and how much had been to draw him to the point where his buddy could appeal to Hades that they didn't dare go through with this without his help.

Wiping a hand over his face to restore some semblance of decorum, the god replied, "Perhaps not, but it's nice to see him yelling at someone else for a change. Hercules, you have no idea the problems Iolaus has been creating ever since. . ."

"Who cares about your problems?" they both snapped simultaneously, then turned to look at one another, and realizing that Hades had just pulled their chain, they each blew out a brief, chagrined chuckle, a little self-conscious at how predictable they were. At how much they still reacted the same way, thought and felt the same things. And how each of them, always, would be prepared to risk anything to assure the safety of the other. Hercules reached out and pulled Iolaus toward him, into a brief heartfelt hug, as he murmured hoarsely, "Gods, I've missed you."

"Well, I see everything seems back to normal," Persephone observed, deciding it was time to join the discussion. "So, what have you decided?"

"As normal as a demon running around in my body killing countless people, can be," Iolaus muttered as he pulled away from Hercules, sobering as he again focused on all that was at stake.

"Oh, I count them," Hades observed, but absently, as he frowned, weighing the options. If Hercules' deception failed, he still could possibly align the gods to fight Dahok collectively. They'd be fighting the added strength that Hercules' body would give the demon, but that fact might actually be enough to convince the others to get engaged. Might. But, that 'might' was enough to sway him toward his instinctive responsibility for safeguarding any soul, let alone this particular soul, in his domain. Implacable once again, he shook his head. "Iolaus, I take your point, but it's too great a risk to your eternal soul. Hercules will have to do this alone."

"NO!" Iolaus roared his protest, but the god waved it away as he moved toward Hercules to lay a hand on his shoulder. The two heroes exchanged a long look, Iolaus' eyes full of fear for his friend, and frustration at being left behind, Hercules' gaze relieved to know his friend wouldn't be risking his soul.

Iolaus was still crying out, "Don't do this, Hades, don't leave me behind!" when Hercules and Hades vanished.

Iolaus felt like he might explode. This was wrong! They were making a terrible mistake. Dahok would figure it out, and he couldn't let that happen. He had to help. He was the only element of surprise they had, the only thing Dahok wouldn't be suspecting or guarding against. Without him, it was only too likely that the demon would defeat Hercules, and in defeating him, would destroy all that he was to take over the demigod's body. Sick with fear, furious with helpless, Iolaus shook his head, his fists clenched. He could not let that happen!

Wheeling on Persephone, he reached toward her and begged with all that he was, "Please, you have to take me there. They don't know Dahok like I do, they haven't felt his power. Dammit, it's not just Hercules! It's everything and everyone. . .you have to help me do this!"

Persephone studied him thoughtfully, moved by his desperate, agonized plea. She knew Iolaus was no fool, nor was he given to suicidal missions for no good reason. But, he'd risk everything for Hercules however he might say it was for the world. But did that matter? He was truly terrified, certain that Hercules was going to his doom and if Hercules was lost, so might they all be. She decided she believed him, believed he was right and Hades had been wrong to leave him behind. But "Iolaus, it's your soul that you're risking," she reminded him quietly, her voice full of compassion. "We both know you haven't the strength to break away from Dahok once you engage with him."

"Like I said, 'my soul, my choice'," he replied grimly, determined. "I'll take my chances. Just. . .just get me there."

If something went wrong, something he could have prevented by being there, she knew his soul would never know any peace. Nor, ultimately, would the world or the gods. Though Hades had decided to protect his soul, as was his responsibility and commitment, she had no such accountability. She cared for Iolaus in her own way, but when weighed in the balance of the future of the earth and the gods, one mortal soul was worth the sacrifice, if sacrifice it must be.

Pale at the decision she was making, but resolute, she nodded slightly and held out her hand.

********

"Well, it was nice of ya to come back, Hercules and did ya have a nice vacation?" Morrigan demanded sarcastically, her relief at seeing him boiling over into anger for the fear she'd felt.

"They say a change is as good as a rest," he replied evenly, ignoring the venom in her words and voice, understanding her better than she sometimes understood herself. "Morrigan, Nebula, this is Hades, my uncle. He's just given me a way to destroy Dahok."

Nebula looked from the god to Hercules. "And. . .Iolaus?"

"Dahok doesn't have him, he's on the Other Side," the demigod replied quietly, looking away from the pain in her eyes. "I'm sorry, there's no way to get him back."

Nebula nodded tightly and looked away, trying to find some solace in the fact that at least Iolaus was out of this, safe, or as safe as he could be.

"So, you'll kill him, then?" Morrigan demanded. "How?"

"By giving him what he wants," Hercules replied. When the women started at that, he smiled at them reassuringly, as he urged, "Trust me."

But, Hades, looking past Hercules' shoulder toward the demon stiffened, seeing what the others had not seen.

Persephone and Iolaus had just appeared on the far side of the clearing behind the demon, out of his line of sight, careful not to attract his attention, less he could see them though mortals couldn't. "Damn it," Hades cursed, with feeling.

"What?" Hercules demanded, then turned to follow his uncle's gaze. "NO! You have to get them away from here!" he ordered, whirling back to face the god. 'Oh gods, what's Iolaus going to do? Please, not this, not this' Hercules thought with a rising panic. How could he attack Dahok if it meant putting Iolaus at risk, not only his life this time, but his soul?

"I can't, not now, not without potentially alerting Dahok that something is going down," Hades murmured, shooting an icy glare at his wife for having defied his will. She held his gaze calmly, believing with all her heart that this was necessary.

"Send who where?" demanded Nebula, looking from Hades to Hercules, then out through the trees that gave them modest shelter, seeing only Dahok in the clearing beyond. Morrigan, though, also a demigod, could see what the mortal Queen could not. Tense, wondering what the apparently real Iolaus and what must be a goddess were doing there, she turned her attention back to the drama playing out in their little glade at the edge of the forest.

Ignoring the women, Hades turned to Hercules, knowing the stakes had now risen so high he might not be able to trust his nephew to carry out his role and so he threw the full measure of the impossible choice at the demigod. "You'll have to go on, there is no other choice. The longer you wait, the more havoc that demon will create, you know that! The bulk of his army has already reached the walls of Corinth, and that city along, with her King, will fall before the next dawn comes."

"But, Iolaus" Hercules hesitated, horrified to know it was his hand that could very well condemn Iolaus for all of forever but so many other lives, his brother's life. . .gods, how could he do this?

"Iolaus has quite clearly already made his own choice," Hades responded coldly, though part of him respected the courage it took to face eternity locked in the embrace of a horrific and enraged demon. Sighing, he continued, "You know him better than I do. Now that he's here, do you honestly think he'll hesitate to take that demon on, whether or not you play your part?"

Hercules squeezed his eyes shut at that too perceptive question and shook his head. He knew only too well that Iolaus would forge ahead, attack Dahok, with or without him. For a moment, a blind, searing moment, he felt a surge of fury, and something he wouldn't acknowledge to himself that Iolaus had put him in this impossible position. . .hate. How could Iolaus do this to him? How could he willfully condemn Hercules to the act of possibly destroying everything that either of them were? Because, if killing Dahok ultimately ended up costing Iolaus' soul, Hercules knew he'd turn the hind's blood dagger on himself. Numb, horrified despair swamped the hate, burying it, leaving only devastation in its wake.

Time was dragging on. And the demon had become increasingly impatient, weary of waiting for Hercules to make up his mind to accept his offer. So, he'd decided to add a little more incentive. If Hercules wouldn't trade for his dead friend, maybe he could be persuaded to save two who still lived. Distracted, his victims had let their guard down, allowing Dahok to maneuver a considerable number of his forces to surround them. As Hercules struggled with what he had to do, Dahok flicked a bored hand, and dozens of his zombie priests swarmed into their small clearing, surrounding them, and they were caught in a desperate fight for their lives.

"Surrender now, Hercules, and I'll spare their lives!" the demon shouted above the noise of sudden battle. "Call it a bonus for choosing to get your friend back!"

Hades couldn't intervene lest he alert Dahok that another power had entered the war against him. But, he also thought that this attack might well work to their advantage, making it even more convincing when Hercules appeared to capitulate. It was, after all, exactly what the demon had no doubt hoped when he'd launched this attack. Nebula and Morrigan were both fighting with a grim desperation, lashing out with swords, while Hercules tossed zombies with a blind rage, almost grateful to have something on which to spend his fury and fear. But, there were too many, and the women were overwhelmed, Nebula tripped to the ground, a sword poised over her heart and Morrigan caught from behind, a blade at her throat.

Hades shoved through the mass of mindless men to grab Hercules by the arm and pull him back. "Surrender now, while he's gloating, expecting it! You'll never have a better chance," he ordered the demigod, his voice low, intense. "If you don't, he'll kill them, Corinth will be the next to fall and Iolaus will attack him alone."

Hercules' harried gaze took in the hopeless situation in the glade then turned back to his uncle, knowing all his choices were gone. His face gaunt, a ghastly look of sick awareness of what must be done and done now, he swallowed, driven to the brink of madness, a lost soul screaming out with a voice made wretched by utter desolation, "ENOUGH! Spare them and I will submit to you."

The sword and knife pulled back from their hostages, but remained too close for comfort. Hercules held Hades' gaze a moment longer, as he begged with all he had left, "Help him if you can." Then, he turned and walked from the clearing, toward the monster in his best friend's body. His gaze was bleak with empty hopelessness as he looked past the demon's shoulder and saw Iolaus moving stealthily toward Dahok's back.

Neither hero dared to look into one another's eyes, but Hercules could see a look of grim satisfaction on Iolaus' face as he prepared to launch his attack, and he shuddered with wordless, anguished terror. Why did Iolaus feel he had to do this, take such terrible risk? 'Doesn't he trust...?" thought Hercules in desperation and a new measure of defeat. Why would Iolaus trust him? Hadn't his arrogance gotten his friend killed? The demigod felt more of his heart splinter away, more shredding of a wounded soul.

Dahok stood with a sword in his hand, holding it across his body like a scepter, as he smiled broadly in approval of the demigod's decision and his all too evident spiritual and physical devastation. "Very good, Hercules," he congratulated the hero, his voice rich and mellow with malice, "you have finally made the right decision."

Hercules shifted his gaze to the demon's eyes, letting him read what he would of the blind despair that tortured the demigod's soul. With every step closer, Hercules' mind shrieked to him that he had to do this, that he had no choice but his heart was breaking and his soul shrank away from the task at hand.

Tilting his head a little as he wallowed in the satisfaction of this victory over the demigod, Dahok directed him imperiously, "Come, kneel before me."

But, all was not as it seemed. . .it never was with Dahok. He was a god, with godly powers, and he could sense something was wrong. Hercules was not yet utterly defeated. No, the demigod was going to make one last play, intending to strike. The demon could almost smell the terrible, grim anguished determination that kept Hercules on his feet and moving forward. 'Well, let him delude himself for a few moments more,' thought the demon with malicious enjoyment, shifting his sword to be ready to make an immediate killing blow. Hercules had made a bargain, and so long as Dahok finished this before the demigod could resist, the bargain would hold, a willing sacrifice into which he could move.

Hercules faltered for a half step, his face haggard and gray, holding the demon's attention on him as his hand come up to rest over his heart, as if it was being torn from his breast. . .as, in fact, it was. Iolaus was now standing directly behind the demon, ready to make his move. Bowing his head, despising himself for his inability to watch his friend merge with Dahok, Hercules moved forward and dropped to one knee, directly in front of the demon, his motion covering the movement of his hand down into his vest where he grasped the hilt of the knife.

Dahok laughed in triumph, shifting to thrust his sword into Hercules' breast before the demigod could have ever completed his own attack and Iolaus stepped forward, merging with him, his soul raging against the beast, striking with ultimate surprise. Inside the dimension of his mind, Iolaus leapt upon the horrific demon's back, scrambling to wrap his arm around the startled creature's throat, and set about throttling it.

Dahok shrieked at the completely unexpected attack, furious to have been surprised by something as puny and pathetic as a mortal soul. It was but a moment of lost concentration, less than a second of distraction from his focus upon the demigod

But, it was enough.

Hercules screamed, a tormented, tortured cry of an enraged soul driven beyond the bounds of endurance, his heart shattering as he plunged the blood-encrusted knife into the body in front of him, straight into the heart . . .Iolaus' heart, while his other arm knocked Dahok's sword flying from the demon's loosened grip.

Catching Iolaus' body as it collapsed, dragging it into his arms, frenzied with fear and horror at what he'd just done, he screamed to his best friend's soul, "Get out of there! NOW!"

He had to know! He had to know before he let slip the last slender shreds of sanity that he had not destroyed Iolaus' soul.

********

Iolaus had felt the demon shudder at the deadly assault of the blade and was already moving, twisting away to slide from the monster's back, to try to make his escape.

But, Iolaus had realized somewhat to his shocked horror when Hercules had struck the blow, they'd all forgotten one thing when they'd talked about this plan, perhaps because they'd all come to think of his body and his soul as separate, unrelated entities.

He'd not just merged with Dahok, as if Dahok was the body and he was somehow separate. It was his body, and he'd become fully whole when he'd entered. Able to see and hear.

Able to feel.

And the blade in his heart was killing him.

The burst of sharp, sudden, horrific pain had left him reeling. The suffocating, raging, fire of it ripped through him, just like the last time in Sumeria. It took his breath away, dominated his thoughts, almost impossible to ignore. He felt a kind of panicked desperation that had nothing to do with knowing he was already a ghost, where dying again didn't matter a damn, and everything to do with his body fighting the assault, fighting the death that was stealing over it. Adrenaline pumped through his system, muscles contracted against the pain and the reality of extinction, lungs heaved for air and everything in him fought the letting go of life.

He heard Hercules shout at him, the demand to 'get out of there' and in his muddled sense of who and what he was, a dying body, a soul struggling to escape annihilation, he almost giggled. Every other time he'd felt like this, Herc had ordered him not to let go. But, the pain was too much and the urgency to escape Dahok too great for him to focus on much of anything but the need to keep moving.

Too slow. . .like moving through molasses. The light was fading and he couldn't see. Shaking his head, telling himself it was the physical illusion of his body dying, he forced himself to keep moving. It didn't matter which direction so long as it was away from the beast.

But, the beast that was Dahok, maddened by fury, and by the terror that pulsed through him at the burst of fire in his own being, reached out with fearsome claws to grab hold of the mortal soul that was slipping off its back, as he roared at Iolaus, "What have you DONE?"

"DESTROYED YOU, you freaking bastard. . .just like you destroyed me! DIE DAMN YOU!" Iolaus shouted back, triumphant, even as he squirmed desperately if ineffectually, kicking out and beating at the claws with his fists, trying in vain to get away.

Dahok's grip on his soul got tangled up in Iolaus' perceptions with Hercules' grip on his body, both holding him, one that he wanted to escape and one that he wanted to cling to, and the pain was raging ever more furiously through him bearing with it a sense of overwhelming weakness and futility. Gasping, as he had never gasped on the Other Side, breathing not being something he'd done in a while, he gritted his teeth, grim with determined effort to not let go of who he was. . .to not be lost in oblivion. 'You're dead, dammit,' he told himself to focus his efforts, 'the pain doesn't matter. Fight!'

Weakened by the poison of the hind's blood that coursed through him so long as he was merged with Iolaus' body, the ugly creature that was Dahok staggered, dizzy and off balance. He could feel a void opening, as if at his feet. . .all four of them. The light of the mortal mind around him was rapidly dying from the lethal blow to the body that nourished it, slipping away into eternal darkness. Confused, believing for the first time the impossibility that he might die, the beast's grip slackened and Iolaus managed to pull away.

The warrior staggered and stumbled away gasping harder for breath as his body fought for life. With a sense of fractured time and place, disoriented, wanting to live and knowing he was already dead, confused, he only knew he had to get away from the demon. Lurching up, he staggered forward again, feeling as everything in him was dragging him back, holding him in his body, slowing him down.

This was the only time he'd actually tried to die, tried to escape a body he'd always held onto with everything that was in him and his own will to live held him inside. It was instinctive and irresistible. He'd had a lot more practice with holding on against all the odds than he'd ever had in letting go. Memories pulled at him, distracting him further and he could feel Hercules' grip around him tightening.

'Gods,' he thought when that awareness burst in, again bringing focus, 'I've got to get away from this monster!'

If he didn't, Hercules would never recover from what he'd had to do. If he didn't, he'd be the instrument of destruction.. .crushing all that was Hercules, driving him mad, driving him to his own death.

He had to get away! And, he tried again, lurching forward, feeling the pull of the void opening behind him. Tried desperately to put distance between himself and the flaying, furious monster that he'd come to destroy.

But he couldn't get away fast or far enough.

"NOOOOO!!!!!" shrieked the huge demon, lunging forward to snag Iolaus' leg, hauling him back. "NO! You've done this! You've ruined everything! I damn your soul for all eternity! You never were anything. . .now you're NOTHING!"

The demonic creature began to slip backward, into the void, dragging Iolaus with him. Terrified now at the aspect of an eternity clasped to the breast of this vengeful horror beyond his worst nightmare, Iolaus struggled with desperate fury to escape Dahok's grip. Everything in him focused upon survival, and, as his body died around him, his soul was able to bring more focused effort to the grim business of clawing his way back from the edge of oblivion. Snarling with determination, lunging forward, scrambling for something to grip, to hold onto. . .

and his arm was clasped by another. Startled, Iolaus looked up into the darkness that now surrounded them, and saw the shimmering image of Hades leaning back with all his might, his powerful grip locked around Iolaus' wrist as he tried to pull the hero away from the demon.

Iolaus' soul belonged to him and he'd be damned if he'd let him go.

Dahok had slipped completely into the vortex that whirled in the void, a terrible dark funnel to nowhere, held at its brim only by his relentless grip on Iolaus' leg.

Iolaus felt himself being stretched, torn, between the two awesome powers. . .and could feel both grips slipping. Head down, twisting to lunge forward, reaching up with his other hand, he fought to grab more firmly onto Hades. But the angle was wrong, the reach too far, and all he grasped was vacuum.

He felt Hades being dragged toward the rim of the pit, the god's feet slipping forward under the strain of the powerful sucking vortex into which Dahok had fallen. It was no good. Hades didn't have enough strength or power to defeat both Dahok and the vortex that reached out for them. The creature of chaos and destruction had not been destroyed by the poison, only weakened and distracted long enough for the body that had been his refuge to die around him, leaving him lost again in the terrible ether of nothingness. But, the body he'd occupied had died, and the poison it held was no longer a threat to the demon. Though he'd lost the power to walk the earth, his terrible strength was undiminished, reviving even as the body died.

Hades slipped again, closer still to the edge of the now howling vortex that Iolaus could feel pull at him as he half slipped over the rim. If Hades lost much more ground, the vortex would have him, too. The warrior's spirit struggled with the knowledge he was going to lose. Hades couldn't save him. He couldn't save himself. He'd gambled and lost and now was the time to pay the price he'd said he was willing to accept.

It hadn't been part of the bargain to take another being with him.

Iolaus closed his eyes, felt a terrible, sinking, hollowness as he accepted the horror of his fate, then looked up at the God of the Underworld, crying out, "You can't help me. Let me go before he takes you, too!"

Hades' eyes bored into his, and it was an awesome sight. A fire burned deep within them, a passion for life that left Iolaus feeling as if he'd never known what the will to survive had ever meant before. The God of the Underworld, the god who was death, understood life, and the precious treasure that it was, as no other being ever could. And, he knew its ephemeral, transient, vulnerability but the soul was eternal, and this soul was his!

As Hades looked into the clear, blue eyes, so steadfast and courageous in the face of an inexpressibly wretched fate, so selfless in their insistence that he should not be lost, the god was staggered by the gift of life that was being urged upon him. Hades, the god most mortals feared and despised, was in Iolaus' estimation worth saving, worth the sacrifice of his own mortal soul, though it meant there'd be no hope of any kind of survival for himself. In that moment, that fleeting spark of time, Hades felt a surge of passion like a father feels for a son for this courageous, never defeated, soul, a surge of respect and an all consuming desire to protect and save this one, this single one, from the eternal void. The god recognized the love of life that he had thought he alone truly knew within Iolaus. . .recognized that Iolaus also loved life so well he'd never risk taking it from another, not even to save himself from extinction.

In that blinding moment of recognition and identification, Hades committed himself irrevocably to this struggle at the risk of his own soul.

"NO!" the god roared in defiance. "I will not let you go. . .you WILL LIVE! Fight, dammit! FIGHT!"

His eyes wide, stunned to realize this god was prepared to go the distance with him, even if the distance was forever, Iolaus stared at Hades, inexpressibly moved and shocked to the core of his being. Then, when he felt Hades slip again, sliding ever closer to infinite horror, Iolaus swallowed and nodded, a pact to the finish. Flashing the god a bright grin of complicity, of defiance in the face of annihilation, he lowered his head to renew his own desperate fight for survival. Kicking madly back at Dahok, he scrambled with his free hand for a purchase on the edge of the vortex, willing himself to lurch forward, to resist the force that was trying to rip him away.

Hades grinned wildly in the mad joy of this union of wills, and felt the force of his commitment, his determination surge through him with an almost blinding power beyond anything he'd known before and then Iolaus heard him actually laugh, as if in unexpected triumph!

The warrior's soul didn't know that his final words had done what nothing else had. His final act of selflessness had tipped the balance, and Hades' response in refusing to save himself by losing Iolaus' soul, had demanded an answer.

Another's powerful grip took hold of Iolaus' flailing arm, inexorably drawing him back from the edge, lending irresistible force to Hades' own desperate and determined effort. The vortex pulled upon the demon, dragging him down, overpowering in its immensity, forcing his grip to slide along Iolaus' leg to his boot and then off as he screamed in eternal rage while he plummeted into the void.

The sudden release sent Iolaus careening forward and he laughed in giddy relief to know they'd won even as he found himself alone in the silent darkness of his lifeless body. In no hurry to return to the Other Side, Iolaus rested a moment inside the mortal remains of what he'd once been, savouring the bittersweet triumph of the last victory he and Hercules would ever achieve together. Marveling that he'd been rescued by the unassailable power of not one but two Olympian gods united in the quest to save his soul. Hot damn!

Now that the terrible terror and effort to simply exist was past, and the exhilaration faded, Iolaus again became aware of time and space. He could feel the weight of his lifeless body, unresponsive, but no longer in pain. And though he was in a place of total darkness, as if suddenly struck blind, he could still feel and hear, albeit dimly and indistinct, as if at a distance.

He could feel Herc's arms crushing him tight against the demigod's body, more tightly than he'd ever been held when he'd been alive and could have been hurt, but there was no pain, just a sense of desperate longing.

He could feel the warmth of tears on what had been his face.

He felt a vague pull and release in his chest, heard the sound of Hercules' voice, the cadences of anguish and horror, if not the words themselves.

And he could hear the sound of Hercules weeping, as if all the world had ended and all hope was lost, the demigod's the last soul left, bereft, lost. . .forever inconsolable.

********

Consumed with helpless fear for his friend's soul, the demigod didn't notice that, as Dahok's attention was given fully to his mad bid for revenge, his zombies had pulled back, their eyes sightless as they turned stiffly and returned to the caverns deep beneath the earth from which they'd come.

Hercules hadn't known what was happening when Iolaus' body had begun to convulse in his arms just after it had collapsed from the death blow he'd struck, only that some horrific battle must be underway inside.

'Oh gods, no!' he'd thought, realizing that Iolaus hadn't made a quick escape, and must be engaged in a desperate fight for freedom. It was terrible to watch. . .screams, garbled, in the contrasting tones of the battling monster and warrior, lips twisting in painful effort to make the words, painful moans of defiance, the single word, 'die' the only one understandable to Hercules. The demigod's whole attention was focused, the whole of his will and being, on watching his friend's face, feeling Iolaus' convulse as his soul fought the evil that was trying to steal him away forever. The warrior's body went limp as the soul inside prepared to accept his fate, and Hercules groaned softly but then, Iolaus sighed again, a thin cry of warning and sacrifice. His body flinched again in Hercules' arms, impossibly, given he'd stopped breathing moments before and the body was already dead.

Suddenly, Iolaus' shuddering body lost all animation, lying completely still in the demigod's arms. . .all vestige of life bleached away, the battle for his soul evidently over.

And all had gone silent in the meadow.

Silent but for the terrible, aching moan of grief from the demigod who, in his mindless horror, had crushed his friend's lifeless body to his breast as if he could draw Iolaus inside and share of his own life force.

As soon as they'd been freed by the departing zombie priests, Morrigan and Nebula had raced to stand behind him. Silent tears now streamed down the Queen's face as she again stared at the reality of a blade buried in her lover's heart. Morrigan was pale, her own heart aching for the man she loved, unable to find the words that could ever ease his pain.

Desperate to know, sick with fear, Hercules raised his head and sought Persephone's gaze knowing she would have the answer to the question that consumed him. "Is he. . .is he safe?" he whispered hoarsely, his tear-filled eyes begging her to tell him Iolaus' soul hadn't been lost.

Kneeling, she brushed the blond curls away from the now peaceful face and nodded, lifting her head to smile gently at the demigod. "Yes, he's safe."

Hercules' lips trembled as unconscious tears spilled onto his cheeks. Lowering his head, he drew Iolaus' body up against his chest, his chin resting on his friend's curls, shuddering with both profound relief and renewed, anguished, devastating loss. "Why?" he groaned, his voice thick with grief. "Why won't you give him back to me? Hasn't he earned the right to live?"

His voice cracked, his eyes squeezed shut against the memory of what he'd had to do. They could all say what they might want about the fact that this was only a demon he'd killed. But, it had been Iolaus' living heart that had been pierced by the blade he had driven into his best friend's body. Trembling with self-loathing, his gaze shifted to hilt of the weapon rising from the fatal wound. Crying out in inarticulate agony, he was unable to bear the hideous blasphemy of the sight of it. The horror of seeing that the knife he had wielded had cut through the old wound, a savage imitation of the blade thrown by Gilgamesh, devastated him completely, sundering what little purchase he still had upon his sanity.

Cursing, consumed with blinding rage, he violently ripped the knife out of Iolaus' body and threw it away, his arm falling back to cradle his friend's lifeless body again tightly against his chest.

And, finally, he wept uncontrollably, lost in the pain of his deed, with the bitter agony of the loss he'd known since Sumeria.

"Be at peace, Hercules," Persephone whispered softly, wishing she could heal his pain,understanding that no words, however sincerely offered, ever could.

He choked on her words, wretched, enraged, spitting back, "Peace? There is no peace! Only." But, words failed him. There were no words to describe the agony of loss he felt, would always feel.

Hercules couldn't bear it, not this time, not any longer. The loss was too great, as fresh and raw as those terrible, ugly moments in Sumeria had been, as overwhelming as it had been every moment since. Except this time, his hand had wielded the blade, driving it with all his strength into Iolaus' heart, killing him. Inconsolable, he knew he would never stop grieving, never be whole again. There was nothing anyone could say, not even Iolaus, that would ever heal the gaping wound in his soul.

She sighed as she gently touched his bowed head, then she stood away from him, sincerely wishing that she did have the power to ease that pain, to make right what had been a terrible wrong.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears in her own eyes at the magnitude of such unendurable and unquenchable anguish. "Truly sorry."

It was not her gift to give.

Atropos and Hades had both decreed Iolaus was not to be granted another reprieve.

Scarcely having felt her touch, Hercules hugged Iolaus to him, as if he'd never let go. . .weeping with the misery of a soul that knew itself to be lost and forever lonely, the tears still rolling unchecked down his face. Unaware and uncaring of anything and everything else around him, he let the world drift away. This was his world, shattered beyond repair, his heart ripped into shreds, his soul in twisted tatters. He didn't have the strength to go on anymore. For what? His head bowed over his friend's body, he sank into despair, into a darkness of being that he had no will to struggle against, spiraling into a nothingness from which he'd never return, for he had no desire for anything but oblivion.

Until he felt the cool ephemeral grip of a small, once strong hand on his shoulder, and heard the warm cadences of the voice that had resonated in his soul for almost the whole of his life. The demigod's mind paused in its steady, methodical, unraveling of his sanity as he listened. "It's alright, Hercules," Iolaus consoled him.

When Hercules didn't respond, as if he hadn't heard, Iolaus frowned, feeling a deep flash of anxiety. But for the tears that slipped down his gray face, and the distant low, eerie keening of a lost soul, the demigod might have been carved of stone.

'What the?' Iolaus thought, anxiety deepening to an icy surge of fear. He raised his voice as he squeezed the demigod's rigid shoulder as hard as he could, calling sharply, "Herc? Do you hear me, buddy? I'm here, you're not alone."

Nothing else could have drawn him back, nothing but that voice and the sharp naked fear that echoed in it. Stunned, like a man in a trance, Hercules lifted his head, confused. Iolaus was dead. How could he hear him now? Dead. Iolaus was dead. Must be going away now, leaving him. But, the voice. . .had to answer. His gaze locked on the face of the dead man lying in his arms, swallowing hard against the thickness of his throat, he rasped in a bleak, empty voice, "I will be. . .alone. You're only here. . .here to say. . .good-bye."

Iolaus' eyes narrowed as he searched the ravaged expression of lost helplessness on Hercules' face, and he shook his head as he replied with firm deliberation, "No, Hercules, no. I'm not leaving. I'm staying."

The demigod frowned, trying to understand, trying to make sense of the words. Iolaus was dead. He'd killed him, almost annihilated him. "Staying?" he repeated, confused.

Iolaus dropped to one knee beside his friend, nodding as he answered, "Yeah, staying. As in never going back to the Other Side. . .that is, if it's alright with you."

Iolaus was staying with him? Not leaving? The words burst through the numb horror, stripped away the fog of madness. Afraid to believe, but desperate that it be true, a shudder of hope swept through Hercules' body as he lifted tear-blurred eyes and turned to face the man he so longed to see, to hold in his life. Iolaus smiled gently at him and squeezed his shoulder again as he said quietly, reassuringly, "I'm not going to disappear, Herc. I'm not going anywhere."

Blind relief and hope flared in the demigod's eyes, then confusion washed over him again as he looked from the image of the man kneeling beside him, to the body still lying in his arms. "I don't. . .I don't understand" he stammered, his grip on sanity still fragile. Looking back at Iolaus, he shook his head, "You're. . .you can't stay. . .gods, Iolaus." But, his voice cracked, unable to continue. Iolaus was dead. The evidence was in his arms. "Hades will take you. . .bbback" he finally managed to stammer, the pain of it in his voice and eyes, in the bleak, haggard expression on his face.

"Not this time," Iolaus said quietly, looking up past Hercules toward Persephone and Hades who had just appeared at her side. "Not this time."

Morrigan had gasped when Iolaus had first appeared, believing at first it was the specter of Dahok, then realizing quickly that of course it was the poor spirit of the warrior, come to say good-bye to his friend.

But, his words didn't make sense. What did he mean he wasn't going?

Nebula had heard the gasp, saw and heard Hercules speaking with Iolaus, but she couldn't see warrior's spirit. Not having the power of a god, she could not see a soul that had not manifested to her. But, she felt her heart twist, knowing he was there, and felt grief at not being able to see or touch him. "What's happening?" she murmured, her throat thick with sorrow.

"The spirit of Iolaus says he's not leaving. . .and Hades, is it? Well, he's just shown up and is standing by a weeping goddess, just over there," Morrigan whispered out of the corner of her mouth, then cut a quick look up at the Queen.

Nebula swallowed and shook her head, trying to take it in, knowing that something profound was happening. Something that did not truly concern them, and that they had no right to be intruding. She knew, better than Morrigan ever could, what these two heroes had meant to one another. . .and would always mean. She cocked her head back toward the glade where they'd rested earlier. With a quick look back at Hercules, seeing the way he regarded Iolaus, the flare of hope, and the way Iolaus looked at the god, with determined defiance to remain with his partner, Morrigan knew Nebula was right. Whatever was to be resolved here might effect the two of them, but was it was out of their hands. Nodding, she turned and followed Nebula back toward the trees.

Oblivious to the women, or the turmoil they were feeling, turning back to Hercules, Iolaus studied his friend, and realized Hercules was gripping his body as if he was never going to let it go, his knuckles white, his muscles rigid. The flicker of hope was fragile in the certainty of unendurable pain that shadowed the demigod's eyes. Hercules was just staring at him, confused, uncertain, lost in endless misery. With a shaft of fear, Iolaus realized the demigod had almost shut down on them, retreating into some terrible abyss of horror. . .he been pushed too far and they'd almost lost him! Gently, his voice strong and reassuring, Iolaus said, "You can let the body go, Herc, I'm not in there anymore."

The demigod was dazed, shocked by the horror of the day's events, still numb from having had to wield the knife, still reeling from the terror that even his friend's soul might be lost, and steeped in the despair of having borne unendurable loss for almost a year. He'd have fought, if there'd been a chance, fought Hades, made a bargain but he had nothing to offer that Hades wanted. There was nothing. . .nothing he could do. . .that Iolaus could do. Sick with the realization that his flare of hope had no grounds, that Iolaus was dead, would remain dead, looking down at the body in his arms, Hercules found he was afraid to let go. Afraid that when he did, Iolaus would disappear. "I. . .can't. . .don't want" he choked, shaking his head.

Squeezing Hercules' shoulder more firmly, knowing his grip was but a shadow of a mortal's touch, a compassionate sternness in his voice, Iolaus repeated, "Let it go. I don't need it, and neither do you. It's alright, everything's going to be alright. Trust me Herc."

'Trust me.'

The words echoed in the demigod's mind, words from the one being he had always trusted with his heart and his soul. Nodding a little, shaking with the effort, he laid the body on the ground and sat back on his heels. Afraid, taking a shuddering breath, he looked back at Iolaus and almost collapsed from the relief of seeing that he was still there. Swallowing, he took another shaky breath, pulling himself tentatively back from the brink of madness.

"That's it, easy, it's okay," Iolaus soothed. "You're going to be all right."

Not understanding, clinging to his trust in his best friend, Hercules looked from Iolaus to Hades and back again. "What's. . .what's going on?" he managed to ask, not sure he was ready for an answer that would shatter what was left of his soul. If Hades took Iolaus now. . .well, maybe he'd be merciful and take both of them.

Hades had been listening and watching silently, still unsettled by the feelings he'd experienced moments ago. This soul, this single most annoying soul, who caused more trouble than ten thousand souls, had come to represent the distilled essence of life in the god's mind. That infinite moment, when he'd known Iolaus was prepared to let go, to save his life, and when he'd decided that he would risk it all too, to save the courageous and selfless spirit, haunted him. In that moment, when he'd willed Iolaus to live, he'd meant it with every fiber of his being. In meaning it, he'd done something even he didn't understand, because it had never been done before.

He'd barred the gates to the Other Side to this soul.

Iolaus could never return to that realm.

But, nor was he alive in any traditional sense. He was still a spirit, a specter, a disembodied soul.

The God of the Underworld sighed as he struggled with how he was going to make his explanation. . .this body wouldn't do and he didn't have another one to offer. The body on the ground was beaten and bloodied, used up. If it had been left alone, lived an ordinary life, it might have lasted another fifty or sixty years. But, it had been dead for almost a year, held intact only by a force of unbounded evil. . .and it was corrupted by that evil. It could not be restored to what it had been, a vital, living man.

Hades knew that and hearing Iolaus, he wondered if somehow that soul didn't know it, too. 'I don't need it any more, let it go', Iolaus said. Hades hoped he meant it. For once, the god felt at a loss, unsure of what to do, how to resolve this situation. So, still he waited and watched. When Persephone laid a hand on his arm, turning to him as if to speak, he covered her hand with his own and shook his head, his gaze never wavering from the heroes.

"What's going on?" Hercules repeated, straightening his shoulders, needing an answer.

Iolaus stood and looked around at the beauty of the earth, it's greens and hues of gold and brown, at the sky, infinite in its blue immensity. He could smell the trees, and the clover growing around them in the meadow, feel the soft breath of wind on his face and the warmth of the sun. This was real. . .not the illusion of perfection in the Elysian Fields. . .this world was real. Turning back to Hercules, he replied clearly, firmly, "I'm not going back to the Other Side. This. . . this is what I want. The only 'Elysium' I want to know. I'm staying here."

Hercules both frowned and smiled tentatively at the same time, his expression mirroring the conflicting thoughts that were tumbling in his mind. Turning to Hades, expecting the god to whisk his best friend away, he appealed to his uncle that both he and Iolaus could have their fondest wish,that Iolaus would be allowed to live again. "You can't take him. . .not now. . . not after this. You have to restore him to his body. . .his life."

But, before Hades could reply, Iolaus cut back in, "I don't want it."

"What?" Hercules asked, struggling to focus, to understand.

"The body. . .I don't want it. I won't return to it," Iolaus replied, an expression of distaste, even disgust, crossing his face as he regarded the white-robed corpse on the ground.

"But. . ." Hercules tried to argue. . .how could Iolaus stay if he wouldn't go back into his body? The demigod frowned and shook his head, wondering if this was some kind of dream, or if he really had lost his mind and this was but an illusion of impossible hope. It all seemed fragmented. . .nothing made sense.

"And I'm not going back to the Other Side," Iolaus emphasized, shifting his gaze to Hades, his voice and eyes hard with stubborn determination, in case Hades didn't believe him.

"Alright," Hades replied mildly, surprising the heroes and his wife, who had all expected an argument. As he gazed at Iolaus, his expression veiled, he wondered if he should tell the warrior soul that he could not return to the Other Side, even if he wanted to, not now, not ever. Sighing, he supposed he was going to have to, though how he'd explain it was beyond him. He really didn't want to admit to anyone that he'd created the dilemma himself, however unintentionally.

"Alright?" Iolaus repeated, then grinned wildly. "ALRIGHT!" he shouted, punching a jubilant fist into the air.

Beginning to really believe that he'd somehow been granted a reprieve, that this was all real, not some delusion born of a broken spirit, Hercules smiled then, too, though not quite as jubilantly, not yet. Iolaus was still a ghost. Turning to Hades, he asked again, just to be sure, "So, this means you'll restore his body to life?"

Once again, before Hades could reply, Iolaus jumped in. "Herc, I told you I'm not going back into that thing!" he stated emphatically with an expression to match.

"'That thing'?" Hercules repeated, his voice rising in anger as he stood finally to face his best friend's ghost. Nobody used that tone about Iolaus. . . nobody, not even. . .Iolaus? What in Tartarus was going on? "That 'thing' is your body. A perfectly good body, one you used to be fairly satisfied with," Hercules protested. Shaking his head, trying to understand how Iolaus thought he could stay without his body, afraid his buddy's stubbornness could blow it all apart, he demanded, "Are you crazy? Do you think we can just go to the market and pick out another model? How are you going to stay if you don't have a body?"

"It's not my body, not any more. It's Dahok's body! Herc. . .I saw what those hands did, murdering innocent people. . .kids. I heard the lies that mouth told. . .to Nebula, you. . . the world, for pity's sake. And, that face. . .everyone who sees that face will see a monster, a demon of chaos and destruction. . . exactly what I see when I look at it," Iolaus replied, his voice tight with loathing. "How can I wear that thing again knowing all that, remembering all that? I hate it." He looked away, repulsed by the dead thing lying on the ground at Herc's feet. "I won't do it. I won't go back in there. Ever."

"Iolaus," Hercules began, trying for a reasonable tone, to calm his friend, but his buddy wasn't having any of it.

"NO!" Iolaus cut in, wheeling to face him. "NO! Hercules, do you really want to look at that. . .see the scar where you plunged in a knife to kill it every time you look at me? No,that body would haunt us worse than any ghost. Burn it."

The demigod shook his head, not sure what to do or say. He understood something of what Iolaus must be feeling, but like it or not, his buddy had to have a body. Biting his lip, he held out a hand for peace, a gesture to ask that he be heard, the silent plea forcing Iolaus to hold his tongue. "Okay, I hear you," Hercules began. "And I know how hard it would be." When Iolaus' head reared back, and his lips opened to protest, Hercules immediately amended, a pleading tone echoing in his words. Gods, he couldn't lose Iolaus now. . .not when he'd begun to really believe his friend was not going to leave him. "Okay, I don't know but Iolaus, spirits can't stay on this plane without a body."

"Sure they can," his friend replied, his voice uncompromising.

"Well, yeah, they can but after three days, your choices are gone. You'd be trapped here," Hercules reminded him, the need to reason with Iolaus helping him to push his own still lingering horror further away.

"Hello, ghost to demigod, haven't you been listening? You call it being trapped. I call it being free. Listen, I've spent almost a year on the Other Side and I know that it's not where I ever want to be. Don't you understand? Gods, you really are a dumb demigod. Dammit, Herc, I am not going back there, not knowing what that costs you" but his voice cracked and he had to look away. Iolaus had heard the pain, the anguish and agony, suffered it along with Hercules for all of the days of the past months. He was not going to put his friend through that again, not going to be helpless to reach out, to be there, to listen, to watch and warn, to help where and when he could. Swallowing, he shook his head, regaining control. "Besides," he concluded, his voice husky, "it's dead dull over there. Nothing ever happens. There's no where to go. Think of it as being stuck in a small remote village I've visited, seen the sights and don't need to see it again."

Hercules was stricken by his best friend's words. Iolaus was giving up any hope of an afterlife in the Elysian Fields to ease his pain, to make it easier for him. Anguish knifed through him, followed by a profound weariness. He wanted so much to accept, knowing the hopeless, endless emptiness he faced if he didn't, but he couldn't. So, it was hopeless after all. He'd been a fool to hope he'd really be able to have Iolaus back with him. He'd give anything, do anything. . . anything but cost Iolaus the whole of eternity.

Sighing, Hercules moved to stand beside his friend, to reach out to grip his shoulder, but his hand closed on nothing but a cool bit of air. Startled he pulled his hand back, awkwardly, not realizing he could only touch Iolaus on the Other Side, then shook his head, ignoring the moment for now, to say with heavy sorrow, "Iolaus, I can't tell you what it means that you'd do this for me. I. . . I'm sorry you had to know what I felt. . . that it hurt you so badly. But, it's too much, can't you see that? You give me too much."

Iolaus stood with his head down for a moment, his hands on his hips, then looked up, his eyes beseeching, his own voice now sounding lost, "Don't you want me to stay? I mean, I know there's Morrigan but a few minutes ago, I heard. . .heard your sorrow. I thought you wanted me"

"Of course, I want you back! Gods, I told you I'd do anything to get you back!" Hercules exclaimed, cut to the heart by the look in his friend's eyes, by the broken sound of his voice. "But not at this cost to you. That's not fair to you. I can't ask that!"

Iolaus' face cleared as if the sun had come out and he smiled. "Well, then, there's no problem. I don't want to stay just for you, Herc, I want to stay for me, too," he replied. Then, sobering, looking away over the horizon, he continued more softly, "I felt every bit as lonely and lost. . . as helpless, as you did. I hated it there. Hated being trapped. You know I can't stand being in a place I can't get out of. It's not that it's a bad place. . . it just isn't here. . .isn't with you. This is where I want to be."

Hercules gazed down at his friend, a thoughtful, troubled look on his face, wishing he could touch him, his eyes full of feelings his throat was too tight to express. Uncertain, he turned back to Hades to ask, "And this is really alright with you? You're not going to just zap him away?"

Sighing, Hades moved forward to join them, leaving Persephone to watch with a puzzled frown, wondering why her husband was being so agreeable to giving up one of the souls he guarded so jealously.

Stepping away from Persephone, smoothing his hair with the flat of his hand as he moved forward to join them, Hades studied them both for a moment, then replied in the tone of one making a solemn judgment, "Iolaus has earned the right to this decision. He clearly understands that it means that he gives up the right to return to the Other Side within three days and remain on this plane forever. Accordingly," he continued, facing Iolaus, "from this day forward, the Gates to Elysium are barred to you."

"Thanks," Iolaus grinned cheekily, actually quite delighted. Hades gave him a thin smile, a nod and turned to go, relieved. No one need ever know that he'd broken through his cynical, cold heart to the extent that he'd unleashed a power even he had been unaware of. . . a call to life so profound that the individual concerned could never again walk the halls of death. It wouldn't do his image any good and the next thing you knew, everyone would be hounding him to make them immortal. He really didn't need that kind of aggravation, so he was more than content to allow it all seem to be Iolaus' own decision.

But, he paused when Iolaus reached out to grip his arm. "Hades," he said, his voice full, his eyes burning with a gratitude Iolaus knew mere words could never convey, though they needed to be said. "I'd have been lost without your help, I know that. I have a forever that is worth experiencing because you saved me from oblivion by fighting Dahok for possession of my soul. I will never be able to thank you enough for that. . . or for what you almost."

But, Hades cut him off at that point. With a quick look back over his shoulder at Persephone and a glance at Hercules, he hastily laid a hand on Iolaus' shoulder, interjecting, "No need for thanks, Iolaus. Hercules here asked me to help, if I could and you deserved it. You deserved all of what I did in there. So, let's just leave it at that, shall we?"

Iolaus studied the god and though he didn't understand, he nodded and murmured again, "Thanks."

Watching, Hercules frowned as he wondered aloud, "How come you can touch him and I can't?"

"Perks of being a god, Hercules," Hades smirked, turning away to rejoin Persephone. Turning back to face them, he said, "I'd tell you both to stay out of trouble, but I'd be wasting my breath." With a sigh and sly smile, he added, "At least now I don't ever have to worry any more about putting up with a soul who is far more trouble than he's worth. I'm looking forward to the peace and quiet!" With a nod of his head to Iolaus, his eyes sparkling with a rare mirth, Hades took his wife by the arm and they vanished from sight.

Hercules turned back to Iolaus, a tentative smile playing on his lips, the shadows in his eyes retreating as he finally dared to accept that the miracle being offered, as he murmured, "So. . .you're back."

"Yep, such as I am, I'm back," Iolaus nodded with a grin.

"Iolaus, I'll take you any way I can get you" Hercules replied, his voice tight, his eyes glistening in the sun. "I missed you," he murmured, the whole of his suffering for the past year in his look and voice, then the demigod cleared his throat, grinning a little lopsidedly as he continued, "And, like Hades at least now, I don't have to worry about you getting killed again!"

A peal of laughter rang out across the meadow, as Iolaus replied, "No, that's one thing you won't have to worry about anymore."

Hercules looked back at the body that had walked beside him most of his life, saved his life more times than he could remember. Iolaus might see Dahok, and so might the rest of the world, but he only saw a loyal friend and he felt a pull on his heart, a tightness in his chest. "And. . .uh. . . you're sure about the body. . . not wanting it?"

"Oh yeah, trust me, I'm very sure," Iolaus replied. "I know it won't be the same but we'll work things out."

"Yeah we'll work things out," the demigod echoed turning back to Iolaus, desperately glad to even have the chance to try.

Morrigan had been watching from the edge of the trees and had told Nebula the two gods had vanished, leaving Iolaus standing with Hercules. Curious, they advanced tentatively, hoping that their presence wouldn't be an intrusion.

Looking past Iolaus' shoulder, Hercules saw them coming. He hesitated a moment, not really feeling up to facing what had to come next, then waved them forward. "I guess this is where we start working things out," he murmured with a quick glance at Iolaus. "Nebula and Morrigan are about to join us. I think Morrigan may be able to see and hear you, she's also half god, but Nebula won't."

"Right," Iolaus replied, turning to face the women.

********

The three deities lounged in the comfortable ambience of Hades' private chambers, sipping at golden chalices of nectar-laced ambrosia.

"You surprised me," Hades observed. "I'd never have expected help from you."

The god shrugged under the scrutiny, more than a little surprised at himself. Drawling as if bored by the conversation, he replied, "Yeah, well, he was just so damned noble, you know? And Dahok was scum, invading our turf, daring to threaten that he'd go after us next. I decided that I'd be damned if I'd let him have even the sorry satisfaction of taking the runt with him. I just reacted. . . what can I say?"

"Uh huh," mused Hades, not really buying it so he let the silence build. That might have been part of the reason, but he doubted it was all of it.

Made restless by Hades' steady scrutiny, the god rose and paced over to the sideboard to pour more of the libation into his goblet. When he turned, the others were still staring at him. "What?" he demanded.

"What's the rest of the story?" Hades inquired mildly, lifting a brow and waiting. The third deity hid a smile in his goblet.

"The rest of the story?" the god rolled his eyes, and paced back to his chair, sitting in it with his elbows on his knees, his goblet held loosely in his hands. "Well, it was pretty clear that you'd decided to hold on regardless of the consequences. And, that's fine, wouldn't worry me a bit if you'd slipped into that vortex. Except, well, somebody's got to look after the place down here, keep the Elysian Fields in good repair, you know, for the souls who earn the right." Clearing his throat, he decided this was getting out of hand and he was beginning to sound a like a sentimental fool, worrying about the souls of vanquished warriors. And, if he wasn't careful, Hades would realize his nephew had also found the unexpected nobility of the god's soul irresistible, in the moment when Hades committed himself to Iolaus, heedless of the possible cost, compelling Ares to intervene. Assuming a certain glowering air, he added, "And I figured this guy," nodding at Zeus, with a dramatic shudder, "would likely have stuck me with the job. So to protect myself, you understand, I figured I'd better save your sorry butt." He sat back with a satisfied look that said very clearly, 'And you owe me big time!'

The two older gods laughed out loud, Zeus shaking his head as he jeered, "Ares, you are such a fraud. You did this so that the souls of your soldiers would be taken care of properly. . . you figure you owe them that. It's that 'code of honour' thing that you rate so highly. And, maybe, just maybe, because it meant saving your uncle's life. . . keeping two noble souls from the vortex. . . souls you deemed worthy of rescue."

Hades smiled thinly as he teased sardonically, "What would people think of the big bad God of War actually caring for the souls of the fallen brave? But, don't worry, kid, the fact that you're a big softy is safe with us."

Ares looked like he might very well explode. "I'm a softy?" he growled in exclamation, greatly offended. "You're the one who was about to give up everything for that runt! What is it with that guy?"

"You know the answer to that as well as I do," Hades challenged back, all trace of humour gone. "Maybe even better, he's always been one of yours. But, in any case, I find myself in the unusual position of having to thank you. You saved us both in there. He knows it. I know it. You know it. Thank you, nephew. I do owe you a big one."

"Well, so long as that's clear," Ares allowed, settling back and looking greatly satisfied as he began to consider how he might one day collect on the debt. But, then he scowled again as he added, "He knows some god showed up to help, he doesn't know which one. If either of you ever tell the little runt or that goody two boots sorry excuse for a demigod, I'll deny every word. I know he's your favourite, Zeus, but I have to say we just don't get along. The last thing I want is them figuring that I'm the least bit interested in their affairs, except in so far as they conflict with mine."

Zeus chuckled again, unperturbed by his son's glowering expression, as he replied, "Well, yes, I've made no secret of my preferences, but today, I must admit, I might have to reconsider." Lifting his goblet in a salute to Ares, he continued, "You did good today, kid, arriving in the nick of time. Real good. I'm proud of you, son."

"Like that's supposed to impress me?" Ares replied, rolling his eyes, snorting with disdain. Briefly, though his eyes glinted sardonically, both amused and pleased in spite of himself, but then he hid his pleasure again as he taunted Hades with a wicked grin. "So, what are you going to do about this guy wandering around as a spirit? You know it'll drive them crazy and Hercules will be after you to do something about getting him a body again. Mortals and demigods, they have no sense of the bigger picture, no clue as to how the future will play out. The trouble they get into? Goldilocks will come apart with guilt the first time he can't actually step in and fight beside the muscle man. And Hercules? When he realizes how his little buddy can't enjoy all the good things in life anymore? You wait. . . he'll be yelling for intervention in no time."

Hades shrugged. "Not my problem," he stated flatly, sipping from his goblet. He was not going to confess that he had indeed created this situation and leave himself open to demands to do something similar for one favourite or another of these two reprobates. The secret was his alone and he knew the value of discretion.

Zeus sighed. Ares was right. It was only a matter of time. Shaking his head, he answered thoughtfully, "I'll have to think of something, I suppose. You've seen what Hercules was like this past year, moping around, inconsolable. . .well, it wore on me. I thought it would never end! Frankly, I don't think I can stand much more if he starts up with the guilt and fixates on the cost to Iolaus, regardless of what that spunky little warrior says. I suppose I'll have to figure out how to make him fully mortal again. Though, not for nothing. Hercules will have to earn it."

Hades nearly choked. Mortal wasn't nearly good enough. . .mortal could die and then his secret would be out. Affecting a stern demeanor, he turned to Zeus, "Well, you'd better come up with something good. Iolaus made his choice and I have accepted it. He is barred from my realm. An ordinary return to mortal life won't be good enough, keep that in mind."

"Hmm," Zeus mused as if thinking about it, but he leveled a meaningful look at his brother, gazing deep into the god's eyes. The message was clear. . .if Zeus needed help with this, he expected his brother to make himself useful. The God of the Underworld swallowed and looked down into his goblet. Hades had just realized that he might have thought he had a secret but Zeus clearly knew what it was. Shrugging, he took another sip from his goblet.

He supposed a certain omnipotence was one of the perks of being the King of the Gods.

Chapter Two: A New Beginning

Iolaus turned to face the two women walking toward them, one a Celtic Druid of Justice, a woman he'd wondered a lot about, wondered if she was Hercules' new partner. Morrigan, a demigod in her own right, someone who had to be important to Herc. How important, he didn't know. They hadn't talked about it. . .not yet anyway.

The other woman, Queen of Sumeria and former pirate, Nebula. . .the woman he'd loved and died to save and, in dying had unleashed an unfathomable evil upon the world while he spent almost a year in his own personal hell.

Morrigan, never shy, marched straight up to him, looking him up and down with one brow quirked in curiosity. "So you'll be the famous, Iolaus. I've heard a lot about you from these two and I'm pleased to be able to make your acquaintance." She held out a hand instinctively to grip his arm, then realized it was foolish. Though she could see him, and he was real enough, in some ways, he was also an illusion.

Iolaus saw the gesture and cocked his head a little, uncomfortable as well, but then he conjured up a grin and nodded, as he replied, "I'm glad to meet you, too, Morrigan. Iwell, you helped Hercules when he needed someone most and I'm grateful to you."

Hercules shifted a little at the unexpected comment wondering how much Iolaus knew about his relationship with Morrigan, wondering how he knew, while the Druid looked surprised, then pleased. Nebula was fast finding it all very frustrating. She stared at the place where it seemed Iolaus must be, and she knew he was speaking by the way the other two listened, but she could hear nothing. Iolaus saw the tight expression on her face, her discomfort, and murmured, "Herc, tell Nebula I'm sorry that she can't see or hear what's going on right now."

Hercules looked from Iolaus to Nebula, and relayed the message. She floundered a bit, her arms a little wide and almost helpless, a gesture that few ever saw in her presence. "It's just that I don't know what's going on. Iolaus. . .damn I wish I could see you! I wanted to tell you, wanted you to know. . .I'm sorry. Sorry about everything."

Iolaus swallowed and looked away, emotions surging within him, frustrated and angry that he couldn't answer her directly, that what needed to be said between them had to be relayed through others. He didn't realize what was happening until she gasped, and his eyes sought hers, and found them looking straight into his. Her hand had come up to her mouth and there were tears in her eyes. . .so much there she wanted to say.

Understanding now, given the experience of traveling with Timeron, a young ghost with unfinished business with Sisyphus, Iolaus gave her a wry smile as he observed, "Guess you can see me now, huh?"

When she nodded, speechless, he moved toward her, cocking his head to the side, as he suggested, "Walk with me?"

Hercules and Morrigan watched them walk a little away, the Druid biting her lip. Turning to Hercules, she said, "I think, maybe, you and I also have some things we need to be saying."

********

"What's going on, Iolaus?" Nebula asked, her voice low, as she gazed at him with wonder and trepidation.

Iolaus looked at her as he answered, "I've decided not to go back to the Other Side, and Hades has agreed to let me remain here. Iwell, I know Herc needs me and, frankly, I need to be with him."

Swallowing, she nodded a little and looked away. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "This should never have happened to you."

He reached out unconsciously, then let his hand fall, useless and helpless, to his side. Speaking with a low, intense tone, he replied, "Nebula, there isn't anything for you to be sorry about. You were a victim of Dahok every bit as much as I was. I'm not sorry I chose to save your life. I loved you, you know that. Part of me still does."

Tilting her head up to give him a sideways glance, she licked her lips and sighed. "I love you, too, Goldilocks. And I miss you. But I knew even before. . .well, I knew you belonged at his side. Your heart, your life, would never have been with me in Sumeria."

Iolaus looked away, nodding, acknowledging the truth of that, though he'd felt confused at the time. "I guess I just can't see myself as a King," he quipped back with a slow grin.

"Well, 'King Monkeyboy' does have an odd ring to it," she joked back, then had to bite off a sob. Turning to him, she said simply, "You would have been a magnificent king but that was never the point. Never will be, I guess. But how will you manage like this? Invisible most of the time?"

Iolaus chuckled ruefully as he answered, "Hey, I felt invisible most of the time even before this happened!" But, sighing, he continued, his shadowed eyes revealing his own uncertainty, "To be honest, I don't know. But, I do know we'll find a way to work it out. We always do."

"If there's ever any thing I can do to help, you know I will," she vowed, then whispered again. "I love you." But, knowing there was nothing either of them could say to make this any easier, she raised her chin, every inch the regal queen. "It's time I sailed back home. My people need me."

"I know," Iolaus replied, softly. "Thank you for coming here, to help Hercules fight Dahok. I know. . .I know how terrible it was for you. That facing him couldn't have been easy. You're a brave woman, Nebula. Your people are lucky to have you for their Queen."

She bit her lip and looked away, wanting nothing so much as to grab hold of him and never let go. But it wasn't to be, wasn't possible in any way. Looking back to where Hercules and Morrigan were talking, she knew she couldn't stand a protracted farewell. Best just to be gone. "Will you tell the big guy I'll always have room for the two of you in the palace if you ever come back to Sumeria?"

"I will," Iolaus replied, smiling softly, deciding this wasn't the time to point out he didn't take up much space. . .or that neither of them would never, ever want to return there. "Be well, Nebula."

She lifted her arms helplessly, signaling her desire to hug him and he nodded, understanding. She gazed at him a moment longer, noticing he was already beginning to fade, tears in her eyes, then nodded and strode away.

********

"I'm thinking that since you got your Iolaus back, you won't be needin' another partner, Hercules," Morrigan began briskly, looking him straight in the eye.

"Morrigan, I. . ." he began, feeling helpless, hardly able to deal with this after the last harrowing hour, knowing this wasn't fair to her, but also knowing she was right.

But, she cut him off. "And I'm guessin' you won't be coming back with me to Eire," she continued, wanting this done, like lancing a painful wound. Best to just get it over, quick and clean.

Hercules looked away, then back at her, lifting his hands to rest them on her shoulders, as he answered, sincerity ringing in his voice, "Thank you for coming here with me, to fight Dahok. And. . .thank you for so much more. You helped me start to find myself again. . .gave me reason to keep going on. But. . .you're right. Iolaus is a part of me and the two of us belong in Greece."

She tightened her jaw and nodded. The Druid of Justice didn't cry--got mad maybe, but didn't cry. Taking a deep breath, she finished it. "Well, I'll be goin' then. I have responsibilities to my own people, as you do to yours. Be well, Hercules and know that Eire will always remember you."

She made to pull away, but he tugged her close, hugging her gently as he rested his lips on her forehead for a moment in a gesture of remembered tenderness. Pulling back, his voice husky, he murmured, "And you, Morrigan, you be safe. I will never forget you."

She nodded tightly, then pulled away, a determined, forthright, fiery force for Justice, blinking rapidly but her head up as she marched away toward the port at Corinth.

********

Iolaus turned back after Nebula had disappeared into the forest, heading toward her ship at Napthlion, and saw Morrigan striding off the other way, over the rolling plain toward Corinth. Hercules turned to face him and they regarded one another silently for a moment, suddenly awkward. Iolaus rubbed the back of his neck then moved to join his partner. "So, you want to head anywhere in particular?" he asked.

Hercules shrugged as he looked around. The day was ending and they'd not get far before sunset. "Tomorrow will be soon enough," he replied as he gazed back at Iolaus, marveling that he had his partner back, still hardly able to grasp it. "There's a clearing over there, a stream nearby. We could stay there tonight and head out in the morning."

Iolaus nodded, looking past Hercules, a sober expression on his face. "There's something you have to do before we go," he said, tilting his head toward the object of his attention.

Hercules half turned and froze, swallowed hard, and then nodded. "I'll take care of it," he answered, his voice tight, his face turned away. In a daze, he headed toward the forest to gather dry wood with which to build a pyre and wondered how he could ever bring himself to strike the flame.

Iolaus got his first taste of feeling useless as he stood by and watched his friend pile wood over the body. Hercules was moving stiffly, as if holding himself under rigid control. Finally, he'd stacked enough and knelt to spark a flame on the kindling at the base of the funeral pyre. He hesitated for a long moment, then his shoulders again tightened and he clashed his gauntlets together, creating the essential spark. When it caught, the demigod stood back a step, his back toward Iolaus, his arms crossed tightly while he silently watched the flames lick at the wood, catch and burst into a bright, hot fire.

When the warrior soul saw the demigod's head bow, and his shoulders tremble, he moved forward to stand beside his friend, his eyes on the now raging fire. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

Hercules turned his head a little away, his jaw rigid as he swallowed hard, trying to maintain some vestige of control. Unable to speak, he shook his head, feeling the tremble of grief sweep up through his chest.

"I'm sorry, Herc. . .I know this is hard on you. But I just couldn't. . ." Iolaus murmured, his voice fading away.

"I know," Hercules choked out, his voice barely a broken whisper. "And. . .it's crazy I guess you're here. But. . ." What could he say? That it was killing him to burn the body that had fought beside him, reminded him how to laugh when he'd forgotten how, that had bounded across hills toward danger, just to back him up, that had shown him how to hunt, that had been his constant companion and best loved friend for the whole of his life. He knew it didn't make any sense, that it was ridiculous, and he wanted to respect Iolaus' decision. But he felt such an overwhelming loss that he could hardly breathe.

"Come on, let's go make camp," Iolaus suggested, with a quick, sidelong look up into his friend's face, wincing at the tears that glittered in Hercules' eyes, and the track of one which had escaped to slip down his cheek. "That's not me, Herc, that's just an empty, used up shell. Let it go."

Gripping Hercules' arm for a moment, his touch cool and feathery, he turned and headed across the meadow toward the trees, relieved when after only a brief hesitation Herc turned and followed him.

Not long after, Iolaus sat on a log by the campfire Hercules had laid out, waiting for his friend to come back from gathering something for his dinner. Looking back toward the now smoldering pyre, he wondered if he'd made a mistake. Wondered if he should have swallowed his revulsion and made do. . .but he knew it would have been too much. To look at those hands, knowing what they had done. To have walked around in the body of a demon. . .the thought of it made him sick.

But, he too mourned the loss of what he'd once been. Strong. Capable. Gods, today he hadn't even been able to touch a woman he loved, let alone his grieving friend. Sighing, he looked around their spartan camp, wishing he was out there hunting, not just sitting here. Chewing on his inner lip, he stared at a leaf on a nearby bush and narrowed his eyes. 'Might as well learn what I can do,' he thought, concentrating on the leaf, frowning with effort, cursing softly when it barely moved at all.

"Something wrong?" Hercules asked, coming to sit by the fire, his back to the smoking ashes behind them, trying for normalcy. Iolaus jumped with a muttered oath. He'd been so focused on the leaf he hadn't heard Hercules returning. Frowning now, Herc asked again, "What is it?"

Iolaus rolled his eyes as he waved toward the bush. "Just checking out my repertoire of tricks," he said sarcastically. When Herc looked confused, he added, miserably, "I was trying to move the damned leaf, and not doing very well I might add."

"Oh," Hercules replied, his eyes straying to the leaf in question. "Well, it looks mean and stubborn. A little like someone I know." A shadow of grin played around his lips as he bit into an apple.

Iolaus cut a scathing look at him, then sighed and grinned a little as he shook his head. "Sorry, I'm just having a little trouble adjusting."

"Give yourself a bit of time, Iolaus," Hercules encouraged. "You've only been back, what, less than a day. You'll figure it out."

Uncertain, Iolaus searched his friend's eyes, as he asked, "Was I wrong? Did I make a really big mistake refusing to go back into that"

All expression bleached from Hercules' face as he looked down but then shook his head. Iolaus couldn't even refer to his old body without a tone of revulsion. He could never have been comfortable inside it again. "No," the demigod assured him quietly, looking back up at his best friend. "No. It was hard for me, too, and getting used to this will take us both some time. But, I thought about it, when I was looking for something to eat, and I realized you'd made the only decision you could live with. The important thing, the only thing that really matters to me is that you are here."

When Iolaus looked away, wondering what good he'd be, Hercules continued as if reading his mind, almost babbling with awkward reassurance, "Besides, there are some advantages this way. I get to sleep all night since you'll be standing watch. . .I assume you don't need to sleep? And, if we aren't constantly having to stop someplace to find food for you, we'll be able to travel a lot faster."

Iolaus chuckled softly as he caught the teasing glint in his friend's eyes. Rolling his own, he replied with a long-suffering look, "You're right. . .you'll be able to get your beauty sleep." But, he didn't mention the crack about eating. He didn't want to risk revealing how much he wished he could enjoy one of those apples Herc had carried back to the camp.

Eating was going to be one more thing that he was going to remember that he missed, now that he was back.

********

Hercules moaned in his sleep that night, tears slipping unconsciously down his face. Iolaus watched, but didn't wake him. The guy had a right to the privacy of a few bad dreams. When Herc settled into an easier sleep not long after, the warrior soul relaxed and looked up, admiring the clear night sky, the glittering stars and the incredible moon that seemed to smile down upon them.

A few minutes later, he went back to working on the leaf.

********

They started out early the next day, while the morning was still new, the light gentle on the hills and the air soft, with just the hint of a breeze. They'd decided to head first to Corinth, to see Iphicles, and then up to Thebes, to let Jason know all that had happened. Despite his misgivings of the evening before, Iolaus was almost rapturous with pleasure at being back in the world. Striding along, a step and a half ahead of Hercules, as usual, he eagerly took in everything around him, stopping every once in a while just to admire a view he'd seen a thousand times before. Whistling as he went along, he'd toss the occasional observation or question back to his buddy and would throw a look over his shoulder every once in a while, touched by the grin that seemed to have settled permanently on Hercules' face as he watched his best friend enjoying himself.

They encountered other travelers that day, lots of them. People who had been driven from their homes in fear of the demon marching toward them, farmers who'd been afraid of seeing their fields destroyed, soldiers on patrol, merchants drawing wagons of goods for trading, and all recognized Hercules, stopping, wanting to thank him.

"You saved us, Hercules, no doubt about it, killing that terrible demon. We'll never be able to thank you enough," affirmed a sturdy farmer, pushing a handcart of produce to the market. The lean, weathered man regarded the demigod with a kind of awe.

Awkward, not wanting praise for what he'd done, uncomfortable with being heralded as the sole hero of the encounter, Hercules glanced at Iolaus as he replied for the first time that day but not the last, "Thank you but, I didn't do it alone. My partner, Iolaus, came back from the Other Side to attack Dahok. He's the one who deserves the real credit."

Iolaus grinned a little and shook his head, one brow cocked as he waited for the farmer's reply. "Your partner? Oh, the man whose body the demon took. Came back did he? Well, good for him. He'll rest easier now, I've no doubt."

Hercules was about to explain when Iolaus cut in with a voice the farmer couldn't hear, "Leave it, Herc. You'll only confuse him and probably scare him silly to think there's a ghost stalking the land." It had gone like this all morning and into the afternoon. 'Iolaus who?', 'Partner?', 'Yes, well I'm glad if he helped a little'. At first Iolaus had been amused, thinking he'd often felt invisible but this was something else. But, as the day had worn on, amusement had faded to patience. And those had been only the pleasant comments.

There'd been others that showed lots of folks blamed him for having let Dahok loose in the world. . .hated him for the loved ones they'd lost to the demon. At those times, he turned away, only to have to turn back and pull Hercules away from lengthy explanations and angry defenses that it hadn't been Iolaus' fault. That he'd defeated Dahok,, forced him out of his body. Those folks hadn't wanted to listen, didn't care, their own loss too great. On one occasion, Iolaus thought Hercules was really going to lose it, as he raged at a tinker who'd slandered Iolaus' memory, his courage and what he'd given to save the world for Dahok, disparaging, not believing. Hercules had gone bone white, his eyes thunderous but the idiot wouldn't back down, the gods know why. When Iolaus saw his friend's fists clench, his muscles bulge dangerously, he knew he had to stop it. Calling out to the demigod didn't work, and finally he had had to walk right through the guy that Herc was nose to nose with, shouting almost incoherently about the cost Iolaus had paid, startling his partner, shocking him actually, to get his attention and draw him away.

"I'm sorry," Hercules had murmured that time once he'd regained his control.

"Just be glad they can't see me or they'd be throwing rocks." Iolaus had waved off the apology, his tone wry, but he'd kept his face turned away so that Hercules couldn't see his expression. Anger. Guilt. Profound regret. Frustration. All of those emotions and more kept roiling around inside of him. And worry about Hercules who was clearly still wracked by grief and fury.

It definitely took the edge off what had started out to be such a perfect day.

That night, Hercules was tormented by a hideous nightmare. Fragmented images of Iolaus being killed, of killing him, plunging the knife into his chest, of chasing through forests, trying to find him, of shrieking out in horror, knowing he was gone, flickering moments of overpowering loss and grief. . .of guilt and fury. He thrashed in his sleep, crying out, tears on his cheeks.

"WAKE UP, HERC!" Iolaus called again, ineffectually trying to shake his partner awake, to free him from whatever was tormenting him. This nightmare was going on 'way too long. "Dammit! WAKE UP!"

Hercules twitched and went still, groggy, "Wwwha'?" Seeing Iolaus, the terrible images still etched in his mind, he blanched, then his eyes lit with hope as he whispered, "Iolaus?"

"Easy, I'm here, you were having a doozie of a nightmare," Iolaus explained quietly. "You okay?"

Recollecting himself, Hercules blinked, and muttered, "Yeah." Forcing himself up onto his elbows, then shoving himself up to sit with one hand rubbing his forehead, he muttered, "Sorry"

"Well, it's not like you woke me up," Iolaus replied, frowning as he studied the trembling demigod. Hercules shook his head as if trying to clear away the images that still haunted him, and wiped his cheek, looking dazedly at his damp fingers. "Want to tell me about it?" the warrior soul offered, concerned.

Cutting his partner a quick look, then shifting his eyes to the dying fire, Hercules shook his head. "No. . .no, I don't think so. It's. . .I'm alright," he replied, lying but really not wanting to talk about it.

"Sure you are," Iolaus replied, his voice dry. But, there was no pushing Hercules if he didn't want to talk. "Go back to sleep. It's a few more hours before dawn."

Nodding, Hercules laid down, one arm over his eyes. "Don't worry," he murmured as he drifted back to sleep. "I'm fine."

Raking fingers through his hair, Iolaus studied his friend, his face lined with worry. "No, you're not," he whispered into the darkness. "Not yet, anyway."

Sighing, Iolaus went back to working on his kinetic power. He'd gotten quite good at pushing leaves around and had worked up to trying to levitate small sticks and then holding them in the air.

********

The next day, avoiding the roads and more well traveled trails, they strode across fields, along the edge of a meadow and into the forest, still bearing north toward Corinth. They passed fewer people, but still encountered some of the local people, a young woman gathering wild herbs, a hunter with a brace of pheasant, his bow slung over his shoulder, and both recognized Hercules, both almost inarticulate in their shy but heartfelt gratitude for what he'd done. Iolaus shook his head in weary amusement of Hercules' still evident discomfort at getting all the credit, while Hercules barely nodded, as he acknowledged their thanks and moved on.

Deeper into the forest, along a rutted trail, they came across a wood-cutter, just finished with filling his wagon with his harvest. "By Zeus!" he exclaimed, looking up at the tall man striding toward him, the light slanting through the trees illuminating his features. "Why, bless me, it's Hercules!"

The demigod nodded pleasantly as he approached, while the burly, middle-aged man waited for him, then reached out to grab his arm, his face almost fierce and his voice husky, as he said, "I he'rd what you done, below Mycenae. T'was a miracle, saving us from that unholy monster. I thank ye, Hercules."

Embarrassed, Hercules nodded, tired of forever hearing the thanks heaped upon him, no one understanding what his partner had risked and lost. "I didn't do it alone," he replied, seeing Iolaus' head flash up at his words, his buddy rolling his eyes and throwing up his hands in a pantomime of amused disbelief that Hercules insisted on persisting with explanations no one wanted to hear. "My partner, Iolaus."

"That bastard!" snarled the wood-cutter, spitting onto the ground. "Betrayed ye, betrayed us all, he did. Joining with that evil demon."

Hercules' eyes widened at the bitter venom of the stranger's voice, only too aware of the look of stricken pain that knifed across Iolaus' face, as he hastily countered, "Wait, you don't understand"

"Aye, I unnerstand," the man raged, tears in his eyes. "Too well. The beast burned our village, killed my whole family, my brother, gods, his eyes melted in his head, and then he was nought but a pool of steamy oil at my feet. Just because he dared say 'no' to Dahok. No. He would not kneel to the monster, so pure in his white robe. . .so arrogant and cruel. Aye, I unnerstand. Too well." His voice cracked then, and he turned away, gruffly brushing at his eyes as he climbed up into the wagon and flicked the reins. "Yer 'partner' betrayed us all when he chose the evil of power, and I'm sorry for ye. Gods keep you, lad."

The wagon lumbered away down the trail, leaving Hercules breathing hard, feeling sick as he turned to Iolaus. He'd wanted to protest, wanted to rage that the man didn't understand, could never begin to understand what Iolaus had sacrificed to defeat Dahok but he couldn't. In the face of that haunting misery, his own rage had faltered. Then, the demigod's face creased with sorrow, when he saw his partner had turned away, his arms tightly crossed and his head down, trembling with guilt and horror. Moving to stand beside him, Hercules lifted a hand, as if to comfort him with his touch, but then helplessly, his throat thick, he let his arm fall to his side.

"Iolaus?" he murmured, but his partner just shook his head and moved a little away, to stand alone. If he'd been mortal, he'd have been violently ill, on his knees to rid himself of the roiling disgust and sick loathing, the guilt and immeasurable grief that raged through him for what that man had suffered. But, he was not mortal so he could only endure.

Hercules' eyes swept the forest, not knowing what to say, how to alleviate his best friend's suffering, how to make him understand that none of that had ever been his fault, his responsibility. His eyes lighting on a massive fallen oak, he said quietly, his voice low and husky with emotion, "Iolaus, when an strong oak falls, bitten to the heart by a sharp blade it can't resist, and it's hauled away, to be the fuel to burn a town, or a dam across a river to flood out fields and villages or shaped into a ram, to batter down a city's walls, it's not the tree's fault."

Iolaus pressed his eyes closed, his lips compressed against the desire to scream out his fury and regret, but as he heard Hercules' voice again, strong, compelling, "None of that was your fault!", his trembling eased, and his muscles gradually relaxed. Finally, he turned and wordlessly gazed back at his friend, his eyes full of gratitude for the understanding, and the affirmation of his innocence. But, his eyes darkened again at the shadows of grief and guilt that still haunted the eyes that gazed back at him. Quietly, with sharp insight he murmured, "It's not the axe's fault either, Herc."

Then, he turned and continued through the forest. Hercules blew out a long shuddering sigh, understanding now why Iolaus could not return to that body, his heart aching for the terrible burden his friend bore. But for the first time, a little of his own hidden horror at having driven that blade at such terrible risk deep into his best friend's body, eased.

********

They made it to Corinth later that afternoon.

"Hercules!" Iphicles greeted his brother warmly, rising from behind his desk to move around and hug the demigod, a warmth of welcome that was unusual. "I heard what happened below Mycenae and you were just in time. Those horrors were about to storm our gates. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Hercules replied, but his gaze shifted away, as if he was looking at something his brother couldn't see. "Iphicles, you don't know the whole story."

"I'm sure I don't," acknowledged the King, concerned that Hercules seemed so weary. "Come with me, we'll go to my quarters, order a flask of wine, and you can tell me all about it."

Not long after, they were settled by a small fire, pewter goblets of red wine in their hands. Iphicles leaned forward, encouraging, "So. . .tell me. What happened out there?"

Hercules looked down into his goblet for a moment, then across the room, a smile playing across his lips. Turning to Iphicles, he said quietly, "Iolaus is here, Iph. . .just over there, in that chair."

The King stiffened, gazing reflexively at the indicated chair, his eyes flashing back to Hercules when he saw it was empty, a concerned frown darkening his visage. He wondered if his brother had finally lost his grip. Though he'd seen Hercules only once since the demigod had returned to Greece, on the trail of the demon, it had been long enough for Iphicles to learn that Iolaus had been killed almost a year before in Sumeria. The demigod had been in bad shape, barely holding himself together. Knowing what Iolaus had meant to his brother, Iphicles had been amazed Hercules had been functioning at all.

Understanding the look of concern, Hercules grinned more broadly. "Don't worry, I haven't lost my senses. Iolaus helped me defeat Dahok, going back into his body to distract him, fight him, giving me time to stab him with the hind blood. When it was over, Iolaus refused to go back to the Other Side and Hades agreed he'd earned the right to stay. So. . .he's back. And, he says, 'hi!'.

His brows lifting, his expression quizzical, Iphicles again turned to the empty chair. Raising his goblet to the soul he couldn't see, Iph nodded and smiled tentatively. He'd heard crazier stories in his time, and with these two, you never knew what might happen next. But. . .a ghost? Clearing his throat, he said as normally as he could manage, "Well, uh. . .welcome, Iolaus. It's truly wonderful to have you back. The gods know, Hercules was lost without you. But. . .if it's not rude to ask. . .why didn't you bring your body with you?"

Hercules choked on the wine he'd just swallowed, then brushed the back of his hand across his mouth. "That's. . .a long story," he rasped.

Taking his time, keeping it as simple as possible, one eye on Iolaus to ensure he wasn't telling anything his buddy didn't want shared, Hercules told his brother why his best friend had chosen to leave his body behind. Iphicles listened, casting an unreadable glance from time to time to the 'empty chair', especially when Hercules seemed to be checking or listening to something Iolaus wanted to add. It was frustrating and it hurt. Though they'd had difficult times, largely Iphicles acknowledged to himself because of his own insecurities, Iolaus had always stood by him when it mattered, even at the risk of his own life, even against old friends and comrades. Over the years, he'd come to think of Iolaus as a second brother, someone to count on, to know would always be there, someone to respect and to love for all the enthusiasm, laughter and sheer decency that the warrior brought into the world.

When Hercules had finished his difficult recounting of events, Iphicles nodded once somberly, ducking his head to take a sip of wine. There was a long silence, then Iphicles looked up and back at the empty chair, tears in his eyes, as he said, "I'm sorry, I can't seem to find the words." His voice cracked and he swallowed, trying for control. Sniffing a little, blinking, he sighed and continued, "When Hercules told me you'd been killed, I felt as though part of my world had died. I guess because it had. I've missed you, missed knowing you were in the world, somewhere, backing this big lug up when he bit off more than he could chew. I'm. . .I'm glad you found a way back. But I'm also selfish enough to be sorry I can't see or hear you. And," he sighed again, shaking his head, still not able to find the words that could convey all that he felt, "you deserve so much more than to be locked in the shadow of silence. I can't imagine how hard this must be for you. I wish so much that there was something I could do." When his voice cracked again, he looked away, down toward the fire in the grate. When he felt a cool touch on his shoulder, understanding, he reached up to lay a hand over the place, nodding a little in acknowledgement but unable to speak.

Hercules had to clear his own throat, before he said, "Iolaus says not to feel so bad, 'cause it could have been a lot worse!" Despite himself, Hercules chuckled a little, conveying some of the wry warmth Iolaus had put into his words and expression. "He also says, 'thank you 'and, he'd like to point out, it's probably time to eat."

Iphicles laughed even as the tears still glittered in his eyes, nodding again as he looked up to the empty space beside him and then to Hercules. "He's right. C'mon, let's see what the kitchen has prepared."

Over dinner, Iolaus sat and watched the two brothers, at first trying to participate as best he could, appreciating that Iphicles tried so hard to include someone he could neither see nor hear. But, after a while, as they fell to reminiscing, he leaned back against the chair, careful not to slip right through it. Though he didn't feel hunger for the sake of nourishment, as he watched them enjoy the warm red wine and the meal the kitchen had sent up, and listened to stories he'd couldn't contribute to, he began to hunger almost desperately for the sensations of life. Taste and touch, speech. . .simple things, things he'd always taken for granted. Keeping the aching need from his face, he concentrated on other things. Like moving the salt cellar, and feeling both embarrassment and a thrill of pleasure when it slid along the table, startling the servants.

Iph and Hercules had laughed and even congratulated him on the progress he was making in developing his capacity to impact on the world, but the servants were nervous. At first, they'd thought the King and his brother had taken leave of their senses, talking to an empty chair, which was bad enough. But now they did believe a ghost was in the lofty dining hall, and that was a whole lot worse. Though they'd known Iolaus, the idea of a ghost, even a friendly one, woke all their superstitious biases. It wasn't natural for a soul to walk the earth and it was very frightening. The two brothers didn't notice the reactions of the silent servers, but Iolaus, having nothing else to do but observe, saw fearful glances and regretted them.

Monster, ghost, either way, he seemed destined to frighten and alienate the living mortals around him.

When the evening drew to a close, and the others went to bed, Iolaus climbed up to the ramparts to study the stars and to think. He was where he wanted to be, back in the living world. And, he was glad he was back, had no inclination to regret the decisions he'd taken.

But, he hadn't known it would be so hard to be surrounded by life and not be able to be a part of it.

The next morning, Iphicles watched Hercules amble off through the wide arch to the marketplace beyond the palace grounds, trying to picture Iolaus striding along beside his brother. Sighing, he felt deeply sad. Though Hercules had been better last night than the last time they'd seen one another, and he'd seemed happy enough to have Iolaus back, even if not the way he'd been, Iph had caught the haunted shadows that passed through the demigod's eyes whenever he was turned away from the chair in which Iolaus supposedly sat.

'Damn it," Iphicles thought, sorrowed by the cost Iolaus had had to pay, what with dying and now being left to wander the earth as a shade, and worried about his brother. Hercules was putting on a good show, but he was obviously far from the relaxed and confident man he'd been before all this started. Last night, Hercules had assured him that the two of them would work out the kinks of the new situation but Iphicles suspected it would be far from easy.

Sighing, he turned back into his castle. 'They'll work it out,' he consoled himself. Shaking his head, he realized they hadn't much choice.

********

Once they'd crossed the isthmus into the mainland, they ran into fewer people who had a personal awareness of the depredations of Dahok, and relaxed a little when encountering strangers. Iolaus had gone back to whistling or chattering aimlessly as they ambled along, determined to enjoy what he did have. Herc could hear him, he consoled himself, and see him and when it was just the two of them, he could forget the rest of it.

Passing through a village sometime after the sun had reached its zenith, Hercules decided to stop in at the tavern for something to eat, and a mug of ale. Heading to the bar, the demigod hailed the taverner as he scanned the chalked board of the daily fare. "An ale, and a bowl of the stew with some bread and, ah" he ordered then unconsciously turned to Iolaus, not thinking, to see what his partner wanted, but froze when Iolaus just looked at him with brows raised in amusement and shook his head. "Ah. . . I guess that'll be all, thanks," he finished awkwardly, fishing in the pouch on his belt for the coins to pay for the fare.

The bartender looked at him a little oddly, but nodded pleasantly enough. Passing Hercules a clay mug of ale, he said he'd bring the food to the table. The two travelers turned and noticed the small establishment was still quite busy, and chose a table in the back, taking a seat on the benches that ran along either side of the rough plank table. Iolaus leaned forward, grinning teasingly at his buddy across the table. "You're going to have to remember that I don't get as hungry as I used to," he chuckled.

Hercules nodded, chagrined, as he replied good-naturedly. "I know. I guess I just forget sometimes."

Waving off the explanation, Iolaus replied, "Yeah, so do I. don't worry about it."

Hercules had just begun to eat when more customers came in, and moved to the only seats that were still available. "Don't mind sharing, do you?" one husky man said in passing, as he and his comrades slid into the empty places.

"Whoa! Do you mind?" Iolaus laughed as the heavy-set man sat down on top of him. Hercules choked as Iolaus scrambled out of the way, moving through and out of the man to stand giggling at the side of the table. The newcomer looked a little disconcerted at the odd feeling he'd just experienced, but shrugged and went back to the conversation with his friends.

Hercules looked from Iolaus to the stranger, and almost offered a protest that his friend had been sitting there. But Iolaus could see it coming and laughing even harder, he advised, "Don't do it, Herc! They'll haul you off to the local lock-up in case you're dangerous as well as crazy!"

Hercules found himself with his mouth open. If he answered. . .Iolaus was right. They'd all think he was crazy. He cast a look of frustrated helplessness at his buddy, looked down at his stew and, after toying with it for a bit, decided he wasn't really hungry anymore. One long swallow of ale, and he stood, ready to go. He'd thought being in taverns before had been difficult, always imagining he was hearing Iolaus' laugh or good-humoured shout, knowing it was impossible, that Iolaus was gone. But, this was even more disconcerting. To have his friend there, to not be able to talk to him or acknowledge his presence was unsettling in the extreme. Shaking his head as he led the way back onto the street, he realized he was going to have to think of a way to deal with this or give up eating in taverns.

As they headed out of the village, back into the countryside, the demigod was thinking about how difficult this must be for Iolaus. He'd caught his friend's wistful look at the pretty serving wench, and he hadn't missed the look of longing in Iolaus' eyes before he'd quickly hidden it last night at dinner. Iolaus loved the sensuous pleasures of life. . . eating, drinking, flirting with the hope of more, and telling tall tales to amuse the locals whenever they'd stopped for a brief respite from the road. This had to be driving him crazy, much as he was pretending to only find it all outrageously funny.

Finally, as the afternoon began to wane, Hercules decided he had to ask, had to know if Iolaus regretted his decision. There might still be time to change his mind. Clearing his throat, feeling a hollow emptiness at what he was about to suggest, he waited until his buddy had stopped his latest stream of chatter and offered quietly, "Iolaus, it might not be too late."

Caught by the tone, the warrior soul turned with a puzzled look at the sun and then back to his friend. "Too late for what?"

Hercules looked away. "I know Hades said the gates were barred to you," he explained, his voice strained, "but this is still only the third day since you left the Other Side. If you asked, he might let you back into the Elysian Fields."

"What?" Iolaus squeaked, startled, wondering where this had come from. His face creased as he concentrated, then asked, "Just because that guy sat on me, you think I want to go back there?"

Shrugging uncomfortably, casting a quick glance at his friend and then away again, Hercules replied, "No, not just because of that. But, gods, this has to be driving you nuts. You can't eat, drink. . .flirt. Tell stories, entertain the crowd and you want me to ignore you whenever we're around people who don't know you're there. How can you stand it?"

About to wave off the concerns, Iolaus paused and thought about it a little more. He could see it had been hard for Hercules to even suggest that he give up on this. His buddy deserved a straight answer. "Okay," he allowed, his hands on his hips, "I'll admit this takes some getting used to. But, it's just stuff. . .not important, not really. I'll get used to it. We both will. I'm not going to petition Hades for entrance to a place I don't want to be."

Hercules felt a surge of relief, but he still felt more was needed. This was too unfair to Iolaus. Like being denied, time after time, day after day. He deserved better than that. Straightening, Hercules nodded as he replied, "All right, if you're sure about it. But that was the last time"

"The last time for what? That we talk about me going back to Elysium? Good 'cause it's a dead subject," Iolaus giggled, "if you'll pardon the pun!"

Unable to resist a pained grin in return, almost giddy with relief to know Iolaus clearly wasn't having any second thoughts, Hercules shook his head. "No," he answered, "that's not what I meant. And that was a really bad pun, if you don't mind my saying so. No, I meant that was the last time I'm going to pretend you're not there. I'm going to keep telling people you've come back to travel with me, to keep helping them, until all of Greece knows my partner is around, whether they can see you or not."

Iolaus grinned as he shook his head. "They'll think you've lost it," he teased.

"Maybe so but I don't care about what anyone else thinks. They'll get used to it," Hercules replied, stalwart and loyal to his boots.

"Right, I can see it now," Iolaus snickered lifting his hands as if to encompass a large sign, as he turned to resume their journey, "Hercules, the Legendary Basket Case."

"Won't be anything new," the demigod countered, keeping a deadpan expression and flat tone, "most people always did think we were crazy."

Iolaus broke up, but the look he cast his friend over his shoulder was as full of gratitude as it was of laughter. Nodding succinctly in reply, Hercules felt better for having decided to make Iolaus as 'visible' as he could.

********

The nightmare came again, as disturbing and violent as all the other nights, drowning him, tearing at his soul until he moaned for the pain of it, struggling against the horror that haunted him. Worse even than before, for the fact that he'd dreamt it alone the night before in his chamber in the castle, not being drawn out of it by Iolaus' calm and reassuring presence. In the midst of the anguish and sick terror, and the utter, desolate sense of having betrayed his best friend, he heard Iolaus' voice, distant, but calling him, insistent, growing louder, until he reached for it, hungering for the consolation and assurance that none of it was real. . .none of it.

Finally, Hercules thrashed a last time and muttered incoherently, waking feeling dazed and disoriented. Once again, his searching gaze found Iolaus, hovering over him, concern etched in his face. "Iolaus?" he whispered, with a renewed thrill of startled hope, and when his friend nodded, reaching out to grip his shoulder with that light, cool touch he was coming to know, he sighed, remembering. Rigid muscles eased, and his breathing slowed. The images of the nightmare were no less true or wrenching but the reality of Iolaus' presence brought relief. "Thanks," he muttered, for having woken him from its terrible grip. . .for being there.

"You need to talk about it, Herc," his buddy said quietly, but firmly. "It's not going away, whatever it is." Though he could guess.

Shaking his head, Hercules took a deep breath. "No, I'm alright now."

"Liar," Iolaus countered, his gaze direct and uncompromising. "It's about me, isn't it? You keep calling my name as if you'll never find me again."

Hercules flicked a look up at him, bit his lip, then pushed himself up, to sit cross-legged next to his friend. Swallowing, pushing still trembling fingers through his hair, he finally nodded, his voice tight, "Yeah. Mixed up memories. Sumeria. . .Mycenae."

Iolaus closed his eyes for a moment, and shook his head. Just a few simple words that said it all. Grief. Guilt. Anguish. Horror. Unendurable loss. Maybe even a little anger toward a friend who'd done all that to him by first jumping into a flying dagger, and then by forcing Hercules to. The soul sighed quietly. "You have to let it go, Herc. All that's over. . .done. We've gone past it."

Looking out into the night, his jaw tight with the difficulty of talking about this, Hercules replied softly, "It's not all over. You're not whole. You're still paying the price of it all."

"I'm not paying it alone," Iolaus countered. "Every time you remember that others can't see me. . .every night, after one of these nightmares. . .I see it in your eyes. You pay it over and over again. It has to stop."

"How?" Hercules replied, turning to look at his partner. "How do I forget that I. . ."

A flare of irritation flashed into Iolaus' eyes. Licking his upper lip, he looked away, then stood to pace, his arms gesturing to expression his frustration with all of it. "Damn it," he sighed, "Will you stop. . .will you just STOP feeling so damned responsible! Gods, Herc, how many times do I have to say it? I chose to travel with you. I still choose to do that. You didn't shove me in front of that blade, I jumped. You didn't push me into Dahok's body, I moved in because I wanted to, needed to."

Turning to face Hercules, his voice compelling, almost pleading, as he continued, demanding something he wasn't sure he had the right to ask. "You have to forgive me for that. I couldn't, wouldn't even if I could, not save Nebula or not help you rid that world of that horror. Gods, every time I see it in your eyes, I'm reminded of what I did to you. . .how I almost destroyed you. I can walk this earth as a ghost without regretting it, but I can't stand seeing what I did to you almost every time I turn around. I can't make it right! I can only be here, now, like this. Yeah, I'm a ghost so that means you have to live for both of us. And you have to forgive me for that too, I guess. Or we'll drive each other crazy."

Hercules looked away as he murmured, his voice strained, "You forced me to almost destroy everything that you are, forever. You didn't trust me enough to do it on my own."

"Ah no, Herc," Iolaus almost moaned in dismay, "that's not it. . .it wasn't ever because I didn't trust you. Nothing would ever make me not trust you. Gods, Herc, please understand. Dahok violated everything that I am. He took my life when he overpowered Gilgamesh and directed the knife. He took my body and used it for things I can't stand to think about. And," his voice cracked, "he would have killed you. I knew him. . .I'd been part of him for one horrible, unforgettable moment. I knew he'd use your hesitation because it was my body he'd use me to kill you. I had to fight him, don't you see? I couldn't just let him" Iolaus broke off, the words choking him, the idea of what Dahok could have done to Hercules ripping him apart, the idea of what he'd, himself, almost done to his best friend hurting just as much.

Regaining some measure of control, Iolaus murmured, "I'm sorry. I had to destroy him myself. Thank the gods, Hades specifically. . .and that other guy, whoever it was, for saving us both from what I couldn't stop myself from doing. I hated him with everything that I am. I couldn't exist, in any form, any longer, not so long as he roamed free. I just couldn't bear it any more. I'm just so grateful you did what you had to do anyway, risking your own sanity to do it. Without the impact of the hind's blood, he'd have beaten me for sure. Herc, you didn't hurt me. . .you saved me."

Hercules' brow was creased in thought as he gazed intently at Iolaus throughout the lengthy revelation of how his buddy perceived it all. For so many long months, the demigod had been consumed by his own perspectives, his own beliefs about his culpability, his own overwhelming guilt. When feelings of abandonment and betrayal had surfaced, he'd embraced them, telling himself he deserved it. . .that it was something lacking in him that had driven Iolaus to the decisions he'd made. When he'd felt anger at Iolaus for having quit on him, for having died and left him alone, for having forced him to that final act in Mycenae, he'd directed it at himself, as only right and just, because it had all been his fault in the first place.

He'd never, ever, not once, really looked at any of it from his friend's perspective. And the idea that Iolaus believed that he was the one who needed to be forgiven was so unexpected, so foreign, it was earth-shaking. From Iolaus' perspective, he was the one who had done no wrong, had only been the innocent, hurt by things over which he'd had no control. He was the hero.

Iolaus waited, his head turned away, waited for the forgiveness he could only hope for. Hercules shook his head, smiling wryly, then chuckling wearily as he finally said into the silence, "Gods, we're good at beating ourselves up."

Iolaus looked up at that, and seeing the faint smile playing about Hercules' lips, he dared one of his own tentative, but warily hopeful. "Does that mean you forgive me?" he asked, a trace of the old impishness in his cajoling voice.

Laughing, Hercules looked up at his friend fondly. "No," he replied, "it doesn't." At the flash of confusion in Iolaus' eyes, he added, "Because there isn't anything to forgive. You're right. You did what you had to do. . .what was right to do. Sighing as he studied his friend, he began the harder process of letting some of his own guilt go. "And I guess I did, too," he murmured quietly.

Iolaus did smile then, relieved beyond words, as he once again settled into place on his side of the fire. Hercules pushed fingers through his hair, feeling his own relief at finally having found a way to begin forgiving himself. The memories would always be there. But he could live with them now. "And, you were right about the rest of it," he added. "It's overdone. We go on from here. If I'm the only one anyone can see. . .well," he grinned teasingly, "too many never seemed to notice you before anyway. So, like before, I'll just have to point out that I don't do any of it alone."

Iolaus laughed softly as he replied, "Yeah? Well, be prepared. They really are going to think you're crazy!"

"'They' always did," Hercules replied, laughter in his eyes.

Nodding as he chuckled, Iolaus agreed, "And, for the most part 'they've' always been right."

"Is that so?" Hercules countered, lying down, one arm under his head as he settled to go back to sleep. "Well, as the only person I know who is definitely crazier than I am, you should know."

At peace, for the first time in almost a year, Hercules drifted off to sleep with the sound of Iolaus' giggles in his ears. And, he smiled in quiet contentment.

********

The shadows were lengthening, the sun almost lost in the west, but they'd decided to press on. It couldn't be more than another hour at most and they'd be home--back at the cottage where Herc had grown up and Iolaus had learned what love really felt like, both to give and to receive, and where Jason now lived on his own. They'd amused themselves for the last few miles by imagining how Jason was going to react to finding out Iolaus was back. . .well, sort of. They could just picture the look on his face when Hercules told him and Iolaus did something outrageous like pluck a rose petal and waft it past Jason's face. Giggling, Iolaus was wiggling his fingers in front of his eyes, imagining how he'd make the petal dance. Because he could. The endless nights of practice had strengthened his capacity to move small, light objects virtually at will.

Laughing like kids, they didn't hear the signs. . .a snapping branch, the rustle of long grass against the wind. Not until it was too late to prepare when the shadows on the side of the trail sprang into life, as a gang of bandits attacked Hercules. Sure, he was a big guy, but there were a dozen of them so they'd counted the odds in their favour.

Well, how could they know they were wrong on two counts? All things being equal, he could take them all without breaking a sweat, nor was he as alone as he might appear.

Caught off-balance, it was a moment before Hercules erupted into action, and by then he was surrounded by men with knives and swords. Dropping into a crouch, he lashed out with one taut leg, whirling around, knocking the closest ones off their feet. Grabbing one of them by the ankles, he lunged back up and spun around, the man flying stretched straight out, screaming his head off. The suddenly confused, on the defensive, bandits backed up out of the way, or some did, before they got clobbered by the human club wielded by the demigod's strong arms.

Iolaus had backed off a step, a bit startled as thugs pushed past and through him, trying to get to Herc's back. Rage ripped through him at his helplessness and fear. One guy had a knife pointed right at his buddy's back! Without realizing it, he materialized before their startled, shocked eyes, causing one to scream in terror as he backed away, whimpering.

His eyes blazing like some demon from hell, Iolaus waved his arms and yelled, "BOO!" causing the guy he was eye to eye with, to blink, and faint dead away, falling, unregrettably, on the knife in his own hand. But just then, another knife blazed across the small clearing toward Hercules' unprotected back, and Iolaus focused all the force within him upon the hurtling blade, causing it to deflect and falter, dropping to the earth.

Using the back of one of the bandits who was stumbling back up to his feet as an impromptu platform, Hercules lashed out with a powerful kick, then completing the leap-frog maneuver, he cut down with the side of his hand to the thug's neck, knocking him senseless. He threw a quick glance at Iolaus, pausing to grin when he realized his buddy had materialized and was scaring the spit out of the goons who had noticed him. They were doing good, even great, as usual and between them, most of the bad guys were down or running away. Iolaus had just caught Hercules' eye and grinned back, when his eyes widened in horror and he yelled, "Duck!"

Hercules turned, taking a half-step to the side, to meet whoever was coming but he didn't move far enough nor did he have time to do more than begin to twist violently away when he saw what was coming. Desperately, he reached to catch it, but it was too close and he heard Iolaus scream, "Hercules!" just as the arrow struck, burying itself deep in his right side. He swayed a moment, the force of the missile throwing him off balance, but then with a growl, he just broke off the shaft and lashed out with a straight arm punch at a guy who had charged him when he didn't fall. Bandits scrambled, some still hoping to take him and they found themselves facing a raging bull who ploughed into them, tossing them away like kindling. Iolaus shrieked at those who hesitated, lunging at them, terrorizing them, until, finally, the battered remains of the thieving gang broke, gathered up their stunned comrades and ran, disappearing into the forest, afraid for their souls as much as for their lives.

The big guy should have been killed by the arrow, but he'd kept fighting like a god.

And the little one, well he must'a come straight from Tartarus to drag them back down there with him!

The yelling, screaming chaos, so sudden and unexpected, was over. Breathing heavily, his hand coming up to cover the short thin bit of wood that protruded from his bloody vest, Hercules turned to face Iolausa quizzical, almost surprised expression on his face.

"Herc?" Iolaus breathed, horrified by the sight of the fast growing stain on Hercules' vest.

The demigod shook his head, trying to clear away the fog that was descending over him but, then, he dropped with it to the dirt, and it drifted over him until everything was dark.

"Hercules!" Iolaus screamed, dropping by his friend's side. Instinctively, he reached out toward the wound, to check it, to rip the shaft from Hercules' body. But his trembling hand stopped. Even if he could, what would he do then? He couldn't apply enough pressure to stop the bleeding. He couldn't rip off Herc's shirt to form a bandage or gather herbs to clot the wound.

Hercules could bleed to death!

"DAMN IT!" he raged, stricken by his helplessness. Gods, what could he do? Herc could be dying. . .what could he do? "Hercules. . .gods, Herc. . .hang on," he begged, his eyes raking the too pale face and then the shadows that were growing around them, the sun now set.

'Help,' he thought, forcing himself to think sensibly. 'I've got to get help!'

"Hold on, buddy," he called, hoping some part of Hercules could hear him. "You'll be okay."

Turning, he raced into the darkness, unconscious of the fact that he was still visible, his terror driving him on until he suddenly realized he wasn't bound by gravity, wasn't held by the earth. Stopping, forcing himself to think, to picture where he wanted to be, he flashed to Jason, materializing in the kitchen of Alcmene's cottage.

"Jason!" he cried out, not thinking, just knowing Herc needed them and needed them now!

Startled, the former King of Corinth turned from the fire, a freshly filled clay bowl of soup in his hand, and dropped it, shattering it as soup slopped and sizzled on the flames. Scrambling sideways, Jason's eyes were wide, his mouth agape at the vision that stood before him.

"Dahok!" he shouted in instant recognition, his voice filled with loathing for the monster that had killed one of his best friends. The demon was back, hadn't been destroyed by Hercules as everyone had said. Was here. Gods! "Stay away from me, you bastard!" Jason shouted again, lurching to his feet, hands out in front of him as he backed away.

Stunned into reason by his friend's horrified reaction, Iolaus' own eyes widened. Lifting a hand, wincing when Jason flinched, he tried to explain, "Gods, Jase, no! It's me. . .Iolaus!"

"Iolaus is dead," Jason snarled, reaching for one of the irons by the fire. "You killed him!"

Backing up a step, reaching for sanity, Iolaus begged, "Gods, please believe me! Herc's hurt. . .he needs you right now! I can't help him. Jason! Listen to me!"

"You're trying to trick me," the former King cried out in denial of the words, the abject plea in the face and voice. "Well, it won't work! I'll never fall for your lies."

Iolaus' eyes skittered around the room as he groped frantically for something, anything, that would convince his friend of who he was. Desperate, he asked in a rush, pleading to be believed, "Do you. . .do you remember what you said when I thought Ares had killed Herc, and I couldn't save him because I couldn't swim and I was thinking about leaving the Academy, and I wondered what Herc would say about that. . .do you remember, Jase? You said, 'Why don't you ask him?'"

Jason stiffened, doubt filling his eyes, unsure, not yet able to quite believe. "Iolaus?" he whispered. "Can it be possible?"

"Gods, YES! Haven't you figured out by now that anything's possible?" Iolaus cried back. "I'm a ghost, alright, but it's ME! And, Herc's been hit by an arrow. . .bad. About three miles from here. You need to take the wagon. Damn it! Would you hurry it up before you have two ghosts on your hands! We don't have time for this!"

"Iolaus," Jason breathed, wonder and a joy he couldn't suppress creeping into his eyes. "It really is you, isn't it?"

"Right," Iolaus replied rolling his eyes, waving urgently as he turned to the door. "C'mon, get it together. . .you can be shocked later. I'll explain on the way, whatever just MOVE IT!"

Suddenly, the urgency sank in. Hercules had been wounded, badly, and needed his help. Galvanized into action, stopping only to grab a fistful of rags for bandages from the cupboard, Jason lunged for the door, leading the way into the night. He hastily hitched up the team, and turning them in the direction Iolaus indicated, cracked his whip, sending the horses charging into the darkness.

********

Iolaus had elected not to ride all the way with Jason. After giving hasty but clear directions, he flashed from sight, needing to get back to Herc, to make sure he was still breathing.

Flashing onto the trail, he knelt hurriedly by his best friend's side. "Hercules?" he called out. "Can you hear me?"

But, there was only silence. In the light of the moon's glow, Iolaus could see the stain had spread but the good news was he could hear Hercules raggedly drawing in one shallow breath after another. In a frenzy of bitter helplessness and fear, he waited impatiently for Jason to arrive, murmuring over and over, "You'll be okay, just hang on you'll be okay"

Finally, less than half an hour later, an eternity of time, he heard the thunder of the hoofbeats, and stood to wave down the wagon before it rolled right over the unconscious demigod and realized he was probably invisible again! Cursing mindlessly with new fear and the frustrated rage that flashed through him at his hated helplessness, he willed himself into visibility, an indistinct, wavering phosphorescent facsimile of himself in the darkness, but enough to cause Jason to haul back heavily on the reins.

Clutching the rags in his hands, the Argonaut leapt from the wagon and raced to Hercules' side, dropping to his knees and trying to lock down the fear that assailed him at the sight of all the blood and the wheezing sound of Hercules' breathing. The arrow head would have to come out, but not here. He couldn't apply pressure and drive the wagon. So, he padded the wound that had been widened by Hercules' efforts to drive off the bandits and wound a long band of linen around the demigod's chest to keep it in place.

Hercules was a big man, and heavy. But, driven by fear, Jason bent and lifted him into his arms, knees buckling a little, but otherwise seemingly unaware of the burden. All he knew was that he had to get Hercules back home as quickly as possible. There was no time to waste and desperation married to determination made him strong.

Having one best friend show up as a ghost that night was one dead friend too many. He sure as Tartarus didn't want to see a second.

********

Iolaus had watched Jason tend to Hercules as best he could, and stood aside as the former King carried the demigod to the wagon, gently laying him inside, jumping up into the box himself to ensure Hercules was positioned as comfortably as possible. From there, he climbed up over the back of the seat and took up the reins, looking around for Iolaus.

The warrior soul had dimmed somewhat, but there was enough of the glow remaining for Jason to spot him in the back next to the seriously wounded demigod. "He'll be alright, Iolaus," Jason vowed, then snapped the reins to send the horses hurtling through the night.

Iolaus sat with his hand over the wound, careful not to put pressure on the arrowhead, but feeling around it, trying to sense the damage, trying to focus his attention on slowing the terrible flow of blood. His concentration was absolute, leaving no room for fear or helpless rage. This was all he could do to help Herc now. . .just this. Focus, concentrate, apply mental pressure to the wound. . .focus. . .concentrate.

Jason pulled up finally outside the house and hastily carried the demigod inside, Iolaus moving ahead to depress the door latch with his psychic energy to allow Jason to easily shoulder his way in. On through the kitchen and down the hall to the bedroom in the back, where he laid Hercules on the bed, gently easing down his head and shoulders. Though Iolaus was no where to be seen, Jason knew he had to be there, that nothing would take him from Hercules' side.

"I'll go boil some water and get what I need to take out the 'head," Jason said as he turned to leave the room, while Iolaus kept up his vigil.

Jason was back in minutes, carrying a tray with a bowl of water, more rags, a knife, little jars of herbs and two large candles. Setting the tray on the small table by the bed, under the window, he turned to rip Hercules' vest and shirt from his belt, baring the demigod's chest. The garments were soaked, heavy with blood, and a ruby stain had seeped through the hasty bandage, though not as much as he'd feared to find. Cutting away the linen, he sponged blood away from the wound to allow him to see the damage better.

"This isn't going to be fun," he muttered, wishing his old palace healer was here, glad at least for his years as a warrior and what he'd learned on the fields of battle. He looked up into Hercules' drawn, pale features, wishing there was someone who could hold him down. . .as if anyone really could. "At least he's unconscious," he murmured, then bent to his task.

The flint arrowhead was buried deep, under the ribs on the demigod's right side and it took the former King longer than he wanted to trace its path and ease it from the wound. He had to hurt to help, cutting around the entry of the missile, slipping the blade down along the side of the shaft through muscle and under bone, then using the flat of the knife to slip around and under the 'head. Carefully, patiently, he eased the arrowhead out, one hand pulling gently on the broken shaft. He cursed under his breath at the blood that welled, blocking his vision, but finally, the deadly piece of flint rose to the surface and he could whisk it away.

Hercules had lurched at the pain, his muscles rigid, his breathing harsh and raspy, moaning a little, blood bubbling on his lips. But it was as if, even unconscious, he knew Jason was trying to help him and he was doing all he could to remain still and endure the agony of the extraction. When Jason finished, again washing the wound, powdering it with herbs and binding it tightly, the demigod seemed to relax a little, his breathing steadying to a slower, deeper rhythm.

"We'll need to get water into him, to replace the blood he's lost," Jason said to the empty air, picking up the tray, and heading back to the kitchen.

'Tell me something I don't know,' thought Iolaus, standing to the side, where he'd watched the crude surgery, in an agony of anxiety. He raked fingers through his hair, his jaw tight and his eyes haunted as he kept watch. Moving closer to the bed, he curled his fingers around Hercules' hand, knowing there was no way his buddy could feel his grip, but needing to touch, to have some contact.

********

It was a long night, and an even longer day. A fever built, searing through the demigod's body, making him restless, thrashing with pain and disorientation. The only thing that let Jason handle him at all was the weakness Hercules suffered from the massive blood loss. The former King had stripped his friend, tossing the blood-soaked garments into a corner, and hour after hour, had fought the fever. Bathing the demigod's hot skin, forcing water into him, and herbal tea both for the pain and the fever.

Whenever Hercules' breathing would catch, or his fever spike dangerously, Iolaus would waver into view, his churning fear for his friend making him visible. In those moments, Jason could see the lines on Iolaus' face, the grim expression, eyes dark with anxiety. And, he could hear him, just. As if someone was calling to him from far away.

While he worked, whenever Iolaus shimmered into view, Jason tried to get information about what had happened, not just with the bandits on the trail, but with Dahok.

"I heard Hercules killed the demon," he said, glancing over at Iolaus, who nodded, not taking his eyes from his best friend's face.

"Hind's blood dagger. . .out of body," he heard Iolaus reply.

Frowning at that, Jason looked down at Hercules, wondering how much it had cost him to do that to someone he knew the demigod had still equated with Iolaus.

"I thought you were in the Elysian Fields," Jason observed, again looking toward Iolaus, who shook his head.

Casting a quick, unreadable look at his old friend, Iolaus replied, "I decided to stay here."

Though Jason only heard, 'I stay' it was enough to give him the gist of what had happened. One brow rose in skeptical inquiry, as Jason observed wryly, "And Hades just decided to let you?"

His eyes once more on Hercules, Iolaus merely nodded. It was too hard to carry on a conversation this way. Fading in and out, his words only partially heard. He heard Jason sigh and flashed him a wry look, a twisted smile of commiseration. It was hard on both of them.

Pausing in his ongoing efforts to cool the demigod's body, Jason stretched his aching back, and gazed thoughtfully at Iolaus, who was beginning to once again fade out of sight. He'd seen and done a lot of strange things in his life, but he'd never thought to be holding a conversation, if you could call it that, with the specter of this old friend. He didn't know how he felt about it, when he thought about it. Everything had happened so fast. Glad, to at least see Iolaus again, to know he was near. Sorrowful, that it had to be this way, accepting that Iolaus really was dead, for all he'd apparently refused the eternal comforts of Elysium. Jason wondered briefly why his friend hadn't been granted the right to return to his body, but shrugged. It was too complicated a question, and the kind of piecemeal communication they managed, shattered phrases more than anything else, didn't lend itself to long explanations.

Most of all, he felt a terrible loss. To have Iolaus close but not quite there only underscored, made immediate, the reality, the immensity, of his death. Sighing as he turned back to care for Hercules, Jason supposed it had been inevitable, given the risks the blond warrior had always taken, heedlessly, selflessly. But, knowing that didn't make the reality any easier to bear.

And, he wondered, what it must be like to wander the earth as a ghost, cut off from everyone around you. It was a kind a loneliness he didn't even want to begin to imagine.

********

During those long hours, Iolaus stood and watched, or paced restlessly in small circles, unwilling to leave Hercules' side. He kept going over the fight in his mind. First, he hadn't been paying attention. He should have sensed those guys. Gods, he'd gotten lazy and complacent. Before he'd died, he'd never have let anyone sneak up on him like that!

And, there were only about a dozen of the thugs. A year ago, between the two of them, it would have been child's play to take them out, drive them off or round them up for jail. And, Hercules, on his own? He'd've been able to take them, no sweat. So, what had happened? Swallowing, he knew he'd been as good as useless, yelling 'boo!' like some demented kid trying to scare somebody. Worse, he knew Hercules' concentration on the fight had been broken with him there. His buddy had turned to look for him, why? To see if he was alright? Hardly. What could happen to him? He was already dead. No, to see how he was handling being left on the side, unable to do his bit.

Worse than useless. . .a dangerous distraction. If Herc had been paying attention to the bad guys, he'd have caught that arrow. He wouldn't be lying here now, too long unconscious, fever too high

And, afterward? Could he stop the bleeding, tend the wound? Help carry his friend? Hold him against the bumps and lurches of the racing wagon? Fight the fever? Give him a simple drink of water? Hold his hand to let him know he was safe?

No. He couldn't do any of that. Nada. Zip.

Slumping down on the bed he'd always used on the opposite wall of the small room, Iolaus gazed at Hercules, listened to his breathing, listened half-heartedly to the few one-sided attempts Jason made at conversation. Invisible. Unable to be heard. Useless.

So damned useless he could scream for the frustration of it.

And scared. That he'd let Herc down. Hadn't been able to help. Had been a liability. And, now Hercules was paying for that.

DAMN IT!

He'd been scared sick when it first happened, unable to help. Afraid Hercules would die, bleed to death, or that the gang would come back and finish him off while he laid there helpless, alone. Because his best buddy couldn't do anything to help him, protect him, had had to leave him to get the help needed.

Some partnership this was turning out to be.

What had he thought when he'd insisted he wouldn't go back to Elysium? That it would be the same as it had been? That he'd be able to do some good? That he could watch Herc's back, even if he couldn't fight anymore? Well, he'd screwed that up the first chance he'd been needed. Oh, he knew Hercules was happier having him around. But was that enough? Would it ever be enough?

Was it enough for him?

There had to be more he could do! More than conjuring tricks. His jaw tight, his eyes shifting around the room sightlessly, Iolaus wondered just how far he could push this single talent of being able to lift or move things. What kinds of things? How heavy? How far?

Could he learn to lift Hercules? Carry him the next time he was hurt?

Could he learn to toss a bad guy away? Or hold back a monster?

Could he learn to use the energy of his mind to make his whole being a wall that no one could get past?

Gods, if he couldn't, what good was he?

********

It was late in the evening when Hercules roused a little, biting off a moan, the fingers of one hand rising to delicately explore the source of so much discomfort. Blinking, still bleary, he murmured, "Iolaus?'

"Oh, he's around here somewhere," Jason replied, an indulgent note in his voice, glad to see the demigod was reviving. The fever had broken about two hours before, Hercules' uncommon strength and resilience to injury and illness serving him well once again.

Frowning, confused, Hercules' eyes searched out the source of the voice. "Jason?"

"Yes, that would be me," the ex-king grinned, patting Hercules on the shoulder. "You had us worried for a while but looks like you're doing fine. The wound has already begun to heal."

Hercules winced a little as he closed his eyes, trying to remember. There had been a fight on the trail. Oh yeah, he'd missed the arrow. After that, it just seemed to be a fog. "How'd you find me?" he mumbled, licking dry lips.

Jason chuckled in chagrined memory as he reached out and poured a mug of water, moving to support Hercules' head as he held it to the demigod's lips. His patient drank gratefully then sagged back, tired. As he set the mug aside, Jason sat back and replied, "Iolaus came for me. Scared the dickens out of me when I saw him, I can tell you. Thought that demon Dahok was back. Anyway, he told me where to find you and waved down the team when I got there."

Hercules peered at Jason, trying to make sense of what he was saying. Iolaus had "Iolaus. . .where?" he asked then, twisting his head to look around the room.

"I'm right here, Herc," his buddy replied, standing up from where he'd been sitting on the bed across the room. Iolaus gave him a slow smile, but his gaze wavered a little. "Jason's right, you'll be fine in no time."

Hercules smiled back, reassured, and drifted back to sleep.

Iolaus stood with his thumbs hooked into his pants, his head down, relieved to know Hercules was definitely on the mend. Jason sat back and sighed, looking around the empty room. "Sure wish I could see you," he murmured.

Lifting his head to gaze at his old friend, Iolaus replied quietly, "I wish you could, too."

********

Hercules was a great deal more alert the next day, able to laugh at how Iolaus had made an appearance much to Jason's complete surprise. "Well," he chuckled, "we debated how to let you know but scaring ten years off your life hadn't been our original plan."

Jason laughed, a low, mellow sound, as he replied, "Oh, that's alright. Once he started yelling at me to 'move it', I got over the shock. So, since Iolaus seems unusually reticent, why don't you tell me what happened."

Hercules heard Iolaus snicker at their friend's remark, as Jason tried to make light of the fact they'd not been able to communicate, hiding the frustration and pathos of it all. Once again, Hercules explained all that had happened in the past week. . .gods, it seemed an age ago. Jason listened, nodding a little, thinking he'd figured a lot of it out for himself, feeling nothing but relief to know that one way or another, Iolaus had found his way back to the demigod who needed him. During the explanation, Jason had been able to place Iolaus in the room by the glances Hercules flicked at him. When the demigod finished a factual, if somewhat colourless, version of the tale, Jason cut a quick look back at the other bed. "Well, now I really wish I could hear you. He never did learn to tell a story properly, did he?"

Startled into a delighted grin, Iolaus laughed. Whether by luck or astute observation, Jason's eyes had leveled right at his own, and it was almost as if. . .well, almost. "You tell him, Jase," he said, "Herc always says I exaggerate."

When Hercules chuckled and relayed the message, Jason shook his head. "Embellish, maybe? But, exaggerate? Iolaus? Now, how could you say such a thing, Hercules?" he teased as he stood.

"Me?" protested the demigod, feeling as if time had turned back, the three of them kidding around as if everything was normal. "I can remember a time or two"

"Now, now," Jason soothed, moving to the door, "don't be making up stories. You're not that good at it." He ducked as Hercules threw a pillow at him, and laughing, continued, "I'm going to get some good hearty broth for you. Build back that legendary strength of yours. Call if you need anything."

Once the door had closed behind him, Hercules cocked a brow at his buddy, smiling as he said, "So, you popped in on Jason, did you? Wish I could have seen his face."

Iolaus smiled, but his heart wasn't in it. Jason's face hadn't been a pretty sight at that precise moment. "So, you feeling okay? Anything you need?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yes and no, thanks," Hercules replied, easing himself over onto his side so that he could see Iolaus better. Jason, though he hadn't known it, had been absolutely right. Iolaus was being unusually reticent. "Good thinking, to come and get him so quickly."

"Yeah," Iolaus replied, his voice a little tight. "Seemed the least I could do, what with you bleeding all over the trail and all."

His eyes flicking away and down a moment as he thought about what that scene must have been like, Hercules frowned a little, then looked back at his friend, thinking that he understood what was going on in his buddy's head. "You can't help the fact that you couldn't do it all yourself, Iolaus. You did what was needed. That's what counts."

Shrugging a little, looking away, Iolaus blew out a sigh. "I hate it, Herc, sometimes, being nothing but a useless ghost. You could have died out there, alone," he said quietly, knowing there was no point in pretending he wasn't bugged about it.

"I didn't die, I'm fine," Hercules replied, then grinned a little. "And, for a 'useless ghost', you kept yourself busy, scaring off the bad guys and then getting Jason. You did good, don't sweat it."

Snorting, Iolaus looked back at him, his gaze steady and determined as he replied, "Yeah? Well, trust me, I'm going to learn to do a whole lot better than that. You ain't seen nothin' yet."

Intrigued, wondering if he should be worried, Hercules quirked a brow as he asked, "What are you up to now, Iolaus?"

Narrowing his eyes as he chewed his lip, Iolaus shook his head. It was too soon to say. He had to find out what he could do, what his limits were. Besides, it was always fun to keep Herc in suspense. Giving his buddy a wicked grin, all he said was, "You'll see."

********

Hercules was able to get up the next day and felt almost fit the day after that. He insisted upon helping Jason with light chores around the house and barn. In response to Jason's questions, he finally brought his old friend up to date on what he'd been doing since Iolaus had been killed in Sumeria. "I wished it had been me," he murmured, then carried on, his voice halting as he described the events up to his departure from there in Nebula's ship. "I was a wreck, Jason," Hercules admitted honestly. "I just wanted to, I don't know, disappear, stop being me. Forget. But, I couldn't." Shaking his head in rueful memory, "How could I?"

He told of how he'd met the Druids, and of how they had tried to help him, letting him imagine he'd seen Iolaus in a cave in Eire. "It did help, some, I guess. At least, I let them believe it did," he murmured, staring off over the horizon, wondering where Iolaus was. He'd been making himself scarce lately, finding it too awkward for both himself and Jason to have Hercules forever trying to translate his reactions and words. Consequently, the demigod didn't realize Iolaus was up in the loft, listening, surprised at Hercules' assumption that the encounter in Eire hadn't been real. Shaking his head, he remembered how hard he'd prepared for that sorrowful reunion.

But, Hercules had carried on, recounting the story of Morrigan, and her daughter. Telling of his voyage to the Norselands and back and of Dahok's brutal slaughter of all the other Druids. And, then the rest of it, the voyage back to Sumeria, his horror at finding out that Dahok had commandeered Iolaus' body, and the battles there and in Greece, until he'd finally been reunited again with his partner.

Jason had interjected from time to time with a few questions, heartfelt sighs and muttered oaths, but mostly he just listened, figuring Hercules had needed to talk about all this, with someone he could trust. And, he couldn't very well go into the gory details with Iolaus, who would only feel guilty over the pain his death had caused.

"The two of you have been to Tartarus and back," the ex-king sighed, deeply saddened for the both of them. Frowning, he looked around, as he asked, "Where is Iolaus anyway?"

Hercules shrugged, as he went back to raking out a stall. "I don't know, wandering the woods maybe. It's hard for him, you know, not being able to really take part in a conversation."

Nodding, Jason sighed, as he replied, "I can only begin to imagine. I find myself looking around, wondering if he's there, if he's watching me. Damn, I hate not being able to see him, talk with him again. And, I keep thinking I should apologize for how I greeted him that first night. The look on his face when he realized I thought he was Dahok. I think it was that expression of horrified shock that finally got through to me."

Hercules frowned, his head down as he raked. Iolaus hadn't mentioned anything about that. Biting his lip, he remembered his buddy's words, that anyone seeing his face would only see a monster. Gods, that had to have hurt, hearing that from Jason, of all people. "That's why he wouldn't go back into his body," Hercules replied quietly. "Because anyone who saw him would have had the same reaction. One more thing Dahok did to the two of us, he made Iolaus detest his own body so much he couldn't stand the idea of having anything more to do with it." Sighing, he looked up at Jason, the memory of it still haunting his eyes, " He told me to burn it."

Jason closed his eyes as he looked away, trying to blot out that image. Not wanting to imagine what either of them must have felt as they watched the pyre burn.

Iolaus decided he'd had enough and that they had too. Raking over the pain didn't help it heal. If he could have his way, he'd have burned the memories along with the body. Blinking himself to a position a little distance from the barn, he began to whistle, to let Hercules know he was on the way back from the woods, apparently.

Well, Herc hadn't been far wrong. It was where he'd been spending his nights, testing out just how far he could push these flimsy kinetic powers of his.

********
Within a week, Hercules was back to being as good as new. The three friends tromped through the woods and across wide fields and meadows, stopping to fish one day, but mostly just revisiting old haunts, laughing at the memories the places evoked. Iolaus traveled with them those days, tried to enjoy sitting by the stream without wishing he was holding a fishing pole in his hand, but mostly just enjoying being with his two best friends, even if one of them couldn't see him. When he got bored, he'd amuse himself by talking a stroll on the top of the stream, pointing out to Hercules where the fish were pooled below his feet. The first time he did it, Hercules nearly choked at the sight of Iolaus walking on the water, causing his buddy to burst into giggles and Jason to demand what was wrong. When Hercules described Iolaus' antics to the ex-king, Jason chuckled, pulled in his line and recast it over to where Iolaus had indicated there were fish, calling out, "Thanks, Iolaus, you make a great fish-finder!"

On market day, they ambled into Thebes, to get some supplies and to catch up on the local news. Hercules and Jason took the opportunity to let folks know that Iolaus was back. . .in a manner of speaking. Old friends reacted with muted joy, glad to know one of their own had returned, particularly glad for Hercules' sake, but sorrowed that they couldn't see the legendary hunter. . .a lot of the women looked very sad indeed. Newcomers just looked at them oddly, as if they'd lost their minds, at which point Iolaus would waft an apple or melon in front of their faces, and break up when they bolted in shock.

At one point, Iolaus drifted off, a look of wicked anticipation in his eyes that Hercules caught and wondered at, but the demigod just shrugged, being engaged in a conversation with the blacksmith. But, when Iolaus didn't reappear within a few minutes, Hercules sauntered off in the direction his friend had taken, wondering what he'd gotten up to.

When he saw his buddy darting in and out of a wall, he winced at the sight. Gods, he just couldn't get used to seeing Iolaus walk through walls or trees as if they weren't there. And, then he noticed just which walls Iolaus was passing through with such evident glee.

"IOLAUS!" he shouted, appalled. "Stop that!"

Startled, the ghost looked around and grinned, partly at the look of shocked sensibility on his friend's face and partly at the reaction of the passersby at the demigod's shout. Some jumped and looked around but the lovely ladies exiting the bathhouse just looked up and giggled when they realized what had been happening, winking at the demigod before they sauntered away.

"Hey, Herc, relax!" Iolaus soothed, as he bounded over to join his friend. "See, they didn't mind the idea that I've been, well, sightseeing," he pointed out, gesturing to the women. "Truth is, most of the gals in there would have been really glad to see me if they could! And, besides, a guy has to have some fun, even if he is a ghost!"

"How many times have you 'popped in' there for a look?" Hercules demanded, scandalized.

Shrugging nonchalantly, Iolaus held up his fingers and flicked them as if counting, then he looked up teasingly, "You do mean just today, right?"

"You've done this before!" Hercules rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Iolaus. . .you. . .it's not right!"

"Okay, okay, it's not like I'm hurting anybody!" Iolaus protested with a slight whine, looking hurt and put-upon. "I was just, you know, trying to find some of the advantages to being invisible. It's not all that much fun, you know."

Sighing, the demigod pushed his fingers through his hair. He never could resist that soulful look. "I know," he replied, relenting a little. "Just. . .just don't do this again, all right?"

"Today, you mean?" Iolaus chirped, and when Hercules looked like he could cheerfully throttle him, the impish soul giggled and waved it away. "Ah, it's okay, all right, I'll be good. So, all the shopping done? Are we ready to head back home now?"

Shaking his head, wishing he could loop an arm around his buddy's shoulders and give him a little shake, Hercules nodded and they turned back to find Jason.

It was during these rambles that they began to hear stories of how livestock had begun to disappear, during what seemed to be sudden, very localized, violent storms. But, it wasn't until a couple of days after the first story that they heard from a farmer who'd been close enough to see the strange phenomena. A kind of low level funnel cloud, with a wide maw that sucked everything nearby inside and then vanished.

Hercules froze and turned his head to look at Iolaus, who was staring back at him, mouth a little agape, eyes wide with appalled understanding. They'd hoped that phenomena had been ended forever when the Sovereign had finally been trapped alone in the space between their two realities.

But, it had started again. And it would have to be stopped.

They took to camping in the area where the incidents seemed to have most frequently occurred, waiting for the gateway to open again. Something must be happening on the other side to have opened it againand they'd have to go through to find out and fix it if they could.

Though he clearly wasn't happy about it, Jason finally promised Hercules he wouldn't follow when the demigod and Iolaus leapt into it. Even then, he'd only reluctantly agreed when Hercules pointed out, at Iolaus' suggestion, that their only hope of getting back might be to have Jason on this side, petitioning the gods on their behalf to open it one last time.

Chapter Three: 'Spirits of Heroes' Unite!

More than a year earlier

The Sovereign skidded down the long entrance into the small, rocky cave, cursing and spitting his uncontrollable rage at being caught and sent back by those two arrogant gods of the other dimension, Zeus and Ares. He'd almost won. . .couldn't figure out how the gods had broken out of the Vaults of Heaven. Didn't care. . .just wanted to make them PAY!

By the back wall, the Jester turned to peer over the large boulders, startled and pale as he began to tremble. Stepping silently through the wall back into the empty courtyard, he thought a time might come when the perils of being close to the Sovereign would be worse than the terrors of the world outside.

But, today wasn't that day.

Unfortunately, he hadn't been silent enough. The slight scrape of stone, the flash of the brown jester's cap was all the Sovereign needed to be back up on his feet, storming to the back of the rock-filled cavern. But, there was nothing there. Frowning, he prowled closer, keeping a wary watch on the boulders around him, wondering if his loyal little buddy was hiding, waiting to come after him again with a knife, like the last time. No, that had been the other runt. But, had this one planned the same thing? Snorting with contempt, the Sovereign decided it wasn't likely, his was an amusing little coward, who started at the sight of his own shadow. No, it was the other Iolaus who had the grit.

Stealthily moving closer to the back wall, the evil demigod shook his head. He'd been sure he'd seen. . .wait, what in the name of. . .the wall shivered and shimmered a little, making him shake his head to clear his eyes. But the problem wasn't with his vision. Moving closer, he could make out a courtyard and, yes! There was the little sneak, cringing down the alley.

With a roar, the Sovereign plunged through the portal, lunging into the world beyond, his eyes flashing with triumph, his face flushed with the desire to crush something!

The Jester heard the roar of triumph as he started to ease around the corner and looked back. His eyes widened with horror, and he started to shiver, like a rabbit caught in a trap. Swallowing as he looked into those venomous eyes, his face a pale mask of undiluted terror, he turned and bolted, running as fast as his legs would carry him.

The Sovereign made quick work of the Empress' bid for power, storming his castle, tossing away any who dared to impede his progress,though most scrambled out of his way to save their skins, leaving him a fairly clear path to his goal. Stomping into the throne room, he threw that sycophant, Falafel out of window and stalked over to loom over the Empress Nebula, his eyes smoldering with the desire to dominate.

Made of sterner stuff than the rest of the mortals in that domain, Nebula held her ground, tilting her head a little to look up at him through her sinfully long lashes. One brow quirked and a slow seductive smile beginning to bloom on her lips as she traced a sharp nail down his magnificently muscled chest, she purred, "Oh good, you're back."

Amused by her reaction, the demigod smirked as he drawled with his deep, provocative voice, "I didn't think you'd be so glad to see me."

Laughing low in her throat, she tossed her hair and moved away, then looked coyly back over her shoulder as she responded, "No? Well, I am. Without you around, there are no real men in this world. It was dull and boring."

His eyes sparked, and he laughed, delighted with her wicked treachery. Finally, a woman who truly was his match. "Let's see if we can't liven things up a little," he drawled as he moved toward her, slowly, his eyes feasting on her until she was within arm's length and he reached to pull her tight against him. "I think a merger might be in order" he murmured as he lowered his lips to hers.

But, that was almost two years ago.

Driven by power, united in their cruelty, the two had merged in more ways than one, bringing their armies together to dominate the whole of their world. It was a reign of terror, leavened by horror and basted with blood. But it hadn't been enough to satisfy them. They owned the world, but they wanted more. They wanted Olympus. The Sovereign wanted even more than that. Once he'd harnessed the powers of all the gods, he'd open that channel to that other world and finish off his despised double and that treacherous worm he called a partner, and then he'd own that world, too.

In his spare time, the Sovereign tracked down his favourite little amusement and had him hauled back to the palace in chains, beaten and bloody. From that moment on, he kept his Jester by his side and made the man's life a Tartarus on earth. Forced to perform, or face another almost lethal battering, or a whipping that drove him into darkness, the Jester used his fear to drive him to greater and greater antics of mania, his face frozen into a smile, his eyes bright with terror, he juggled, sang, danced and acted his little heart out. Not that it was ever enough, nothing was ever enough to please his master or his queen. Unable to bear his existence, the little man prayed for death but, reluctant to take his life, knowing it would be the death of another, he cursed his own cowardly inability to kill himself. He was trapped and so he danced when it was demanded of him, tears glittering in his eyes.

And so it was, as the Sovereign and the Empress plotted, he was there to hear their plans, deemed too insignificant to matter, if they noticed him at all. He was sickened by it all, and seriously considered reaching for one last spark of courage, enough to kill the Sovereign, or at least try. But he couldn't. He remembered that hero, so fine and noble, so good to him, so kind. The mirror image of this one, decent and compassionate, who had tried to tell him that he wasn't a fool, a wretched coward, worthless to anyone. He couldn't do it, couldn't take an action that would destroy the best man he'd ever known.

And, in the secret depths of his soul, he mourned for one who had been his friend, when they'd been children so long ago. One he'd loved with all his heart, before the monstrous hate had captured his friend's soul. One he wept to know he still loved and despised himself for his weakness, his foolish, pitiful hope for so many years, though now quenched, that his friend would recover and be the man he might have been.

Wringing his hands with helpless misery, he heard them concoct their devious plot. Wily, far from stupid, they knew they couldn't achieve it all alone. And so they'd tricked Cupid, God of War, into an alliance, fawning on him, pretending a worship they didn't feel. With his help, they'd first raided Poseidon's cavern inside the volcano, to steal the invincible tools they'd need, and then their campaign began in earnest.

Because it pleased them, they began with Ares, God of Love. The poor, gentle creature, so sentimental and blind to pure evil, had appeared at their summons, delighted to think he might finally have some influence upon them, might soften hearts harder than granite. Iolaus turned away, unable to watch when Cupid appeared, vain and contemptuous, to brutalize the father he despised, and to clap him into chains.

Using Ares, they lured the others in, Aphrodite first, then Artemis, and on and on, Athena the last to be tricked. But, in time, they had them all, secreted away in the hidden centre of the maze below the palace, crouched together, bound, trembling a little to wonder what was going to be done with them. Laughing, the Sovereign had pulled Ares out, away from the group, parading him around as a trophy, mocking the others for having cared enough for him to have become victims themselves, for having been too stupid, too witless to recognize the danger, too complacent in their own power.

The Empress had smirked with triumph, and Cupid had turned to regard the faces of the gods he'd helped vanquish, reveling in his power over them. It had been a mistake. As soon as his back was turned, the Sovereign whirled, kicking out hard, driving Cupid sprawling onto the others, and the Empress, having been waiting for just this moment, clapped her hands three times, sharply. It was the signal. The shimmering carpet they'd stood upon sprang up and around them, tightening into a closed circle, shrinking until their screams could no longer be heard except as an echo, far away.

"Ta duh!" she cried, flinging her hands into the air, as if she'd just performed the most amazing magic trick.

"Beautiful," crooned the demigod, moving forward to lift the golden, shimmering ball, tossing it lightly in his hands as his eyes blazed with unholy triumph. Turning, he strode to the centre of the hall, to a stone pedestal, then placed the ball in the air above it, where it hovered motionless. Bowing sardonically to the gods who had fallen to his will, he smiled in grim satisfaction, then straightened to lift his hand and waggle his fingers as he said, "Bye, bye!"

Then, linking the Empress' arm with his own, he hauled Ares out of the cavern with his other hand. Confident his jester would follow he led the way back through the maze, pausing only to unleash the monstrous serpent, back to the palace and the world he owned.

In their arrogance, they hadn't realized all that they had done.

The imprisonment of the gods, and their final enslavement had unsettled the delicate balance of the universe that now trembled, opening spasmodic portals to another world.

********

The evil overlords retired to 'celebrate' their unqualified victory. Ares, chained as he feared he might always be, turned away, sickened by the violent, ugly travesty they called love. She had never known love, not once, poor twisted soul, in all of her worthless life. And him, well, the god sighed as he gazed toward the corner where the Jester lay, curled tight with his face against the wall and his arms over his ears. The demigod had less excuse. For he had once known the purity of unconditional love, and damn his soul, he still did. But, the vain, inconsistent, over-indulgence of an all-powerful but unwise, fickle and sometimes bizarre and horrendously evil father, and the vicious soul-twisting cruelties of an insane mother had driven him into madness. And now, well, now all the demigod ever really seemed to want to do was punish that love. For its foolishness or its courage? Sadly, a tear slipping down his cheek, the God of Love didn't know.

Ares sighed a long, tremulous sigh and knew his own heart was breaking. He'd tried for so many eons to bring love into this blighted world, but the blight was winning. There were too few innocent souls left, like the one suffering over in that corner. For just a moment, Ares felt rage rip through his soul, rage at the indecency of it. Rage at the useless, hopeless, mindlessness of it all. Rage that he was helpless to change any of it.

A lover, not a fighter, he didn't know the power of his rage or that it ripped through the universe and tore another rent into the fabric of space and time.

********

As soon as the eerie clouds had begun to gather, growing darker and laced with silent lightning, the heroes were on their feet and running toward that far section of the fields. They got there just as the opening began to form, seething and indistinct at first, but growing larger, more defined. The winds began to howl, the air drawn toward the whirling vortex.

"Remember, Jason, STAY HERE!" Hercules shouted over the roar of the whirlwind, and then he and Iolaus were running full out, diving headlong into the sucking morass, pulled from sight just before it once again collapsed in on itself.

"And I'm just supposed to stand here and pray if you don't come back," Jason muttered in disgust, kicking at a rock in frustration. Looking up into the clearing sky, his lips thin with determination, his eyes glinting with a fiery purpose, his heart quaking with fear for his friends, he shook his raised fist, then cried out in fury, "Then, DAMMIT, that's what I'll do! Pray to you simpering gods cowering on Olympus, letting these two brave souls do your work for you! It's your job to hold the universe together, or didn't anyone ever tell you? So get your butts in gear and do something about this mess before it's too damned late!"

********

Buffeted by the violent winds inside the vortex, Hercules reached out unconsciously to grab hold of Iolaus, to hold him steady and close and stumbled when his fist closed around a strong arm. Startled, forgetting everything else for a moment in shocked wonder, he turned to his friend, looking down at his hand and then back into Iolaus' eyes.

Iolaus shook his head, and shrugged. He didn't understand it either. Was just as shocked to feel Herc's grip on his arm. For a moment, they stared at one another, oblivious to the howling, wrenching force of the wind and then Hercules pulled his best friend into a tight hug. Grateful for this moment, they both it knew it couldn't last, but Iolaus ached with the relief of once again feeling the touch of another living being however briefly. Hercules closed his eyes, wishing this could be real.

The unfeeling wind dragged them onward, tossing them unceremoniously down into the long, shallow shaft of a stony cavern. As soon as they were pitched across the threshold, Hercules lost his grip as they rolled and tumbled over one another until they piled up against the carcass of a cow. Wrinkling his nose, Iolaus slithered away. "Yyyeewww," he protested. "Guess this proves what happened to the 'stolen' livestock!"

"Uh huh," Hercules grunted as he rolled to his feet and moved to follow his buddy around the dead beast, farther into the cavern. When Iolaus paused, looking around, getting his bearings, the demigod reached out to grip his shoulder and once again made contact. Turning his head, Iolaus looked up at the demigod with a bright grin as he observed, "Guess the normal rules don't apply here. . . wherever here is."

"Guess not," Hercules agreed, thinking he'd finally found something good about this empty space between their worlds. "It's the prison out of time and place," he answered Iolaus' implied question as he looked around. "And it looks like someone has found a way out."

"No Sovereign, yeah, I noticed that, too," Iolaus muttered. "I wonder if the prison has been created that can hold him."

Shaking his head, Hercules moved forward to explore the relatively confined space. "I don't know but there'd better be one. This guy just never ceases to cause trouble."

"Trouble?" Iolaus blurted out, caught between a nervous giggle and an appalled memory. "You haven't seen 'trouble' yet. His world is a nightmare."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" the demigod muttered as they prowled along the walls, looking for some hint of the escape route out of there. Circling around, they came to the spot at virtually the same time.

"Well, would you look at that?" Iolaus said quietly, peering out into the dim image of a courtyard.

"Looks like we found the gateway. Let's see if they've laid out a welcome mat for us," Hercules replied, slapping Iolaus on the shoulder as he moved forward, ducking a little as he stepped through.

The small courtyard was dark, the night having fallen long before, and quiet. Blessedly, there'd been no witnesses to their silent, stealthy entry. Once he'd followed his friend through the portal, Iolaus reached out to touch Herc's arm, to get his attention. But, his hand just passed right through the demigod, and a flash of sorrow lit his eyes before he quickly doused it. Looked like he was just a ghost here, too, Well, he was used to it and then he felt a wave of sadness. For the first time since he'd confronted the Sovereign below the Vaults of Heaven, he thought about his double, and realized that when he'd leapt in front of that blade that his counterpart must have died, too. Sagging for a moment under yet another burden of guilt, he hoped the poor guy might at least have felt death was a release, not something to regret.

"This way, Herc," he called out quietly as he straightened with a sigh to lead the way around the fountain to the alley and the narrow street beyond. "We might as well start looking for him in the palace."

Hercules had felt the brief chill that passed through his arm and had understood all too well what it had meant. The rules were working again. 'Damn it,' he thought, as he followed his partner through the night.

********

Hercules looked enough like his counterpart, even without the beard, that the few daring souls who ventured out into the darkness of that world scurried out of sight as soon as they'd spotted the demigod. It was disconcerting, to see such naked fear in the eyes of these people when they looked at him. 'The face of a monster.' Iolaus' words once again echoed in his mind and, for the first time, he finally understood something of what his buddy had felt when he'd looked at the thing Dahok had made of his body.

It was then, as they were moving quickly through almost deserted streets, lit only by wavering oil lamps hung on posts or from the sides of stone buildings, that Hercules thought about the Iolaus of this world. The demigod was wondering how the timorous soul had ever managed to survive the horror of it, when he realized that the poor man probably hadn't survived. Casting a quick look at Iolaus, Hercules sighed sadly, remembering that other one, so frightened, with good reason, so convinced he was a coward. So much alike, yet so different. Like him and the Sovereign? No, he decided, not like that. The Sovereign was mad with power and bloodlust. His Jester was not a courageous warrior, but he had courage. To have survived an existence here, and remained essentially innocent and decent, he had to have had tremendous courage.

They were both somber as they made their stealthy progress to the castle, choosing a side entrance in the back, one guarded by only a single sentry who Hercules put to sleep with relatively gentle effectiveness. Iolaus led the way through twisting dark hallways of stone and up a winding staircase to the floor above, to the Sovereign's private suite. They were almost at the entry to the salon, the door hanging half open, when they heard Nebula's rich voice.

"Well, lover, now that we've caged up the gods, when do we go to Olympus to pillage their temples? I'm looking forward to getting some new jewelry!" she said, her voice low and seductive but with a hard, cruel edge.

"Soon," rumbled the low reply, "There's no hurry."

They froze and looked at one another. This was unexpected. Nebula? With the Sovereign? As quickly they both looked away, too conscious of the contrast with their own world, their own experience. Whatever this Nebula was, she wasn't anyone they could trust. But the words finally penetrated and they again looked at one another.

"The gods?" Iolaus mouthed, but Hercules just looked grim and shook his head. If these two escapees from a horror show had somehow enslaved their gods it couldn't be good. And could very well be the source of the instability between their worlds. They'd have to find these gods and free them. Neither wanted to consider what the future might hold if it was too late to bring balance back into the universe.

Deciding that standing around wasn't getting them anywhere, Hercules took a breath, pushed the door fully open and marched into the chamber, Iolaus right behind him.

There was surprise all round. The Sovereign and Nebula looked up, startled at the intrusion, then shocked to see who it was. The Sovereign recognized both Hercules and Iolaus, and his eyes narrowed, wondering how they had gotten there and if that meant the way to the other world was already open to him.

Nebula's eyes widened as she looked from demigod to demigod. Mortal, she couldn't see Iolaus.

Ares looked up and smiled for the first time in weeks. "Hey, little buddy!" he called out to Iolaus, knowing who this had to be and therefore who the Sovereign's double was. This was more like it!

Hercules' first experience at seeing this world's God of Love left him speechless for a moment, but his gaze hardened when he saw the chains around the chafed wrists and the bruises on the face. Behind him, he heard Iolaus' startled gasp as he scanned the room and spotted the Jester in the corner, who had looked up at Ares' greeting, thinking it had been for him. The Jester gulped at the sight of Hercules, the brave and good Hercules, here, and he closed his eyes, not sure if he was relieved or terrified for the life of the other world's demigod.

Hercules cast a quick look around to see if there were other possible threats in the room, alerted by Iolaus' gasp and froze when he saw the Jester. "You're alive!" he whispered, wondering how it was possible, startling the Jester with the unexpected words and the look of surprised, relieved shock in the hero's eyes.

But, Hercules' words were drowned out by the Sovereign's contemptuous drawl as he stood up from his throne, "How thoughtful of you, to present yourselves to me, so that I might kill you at my leisure."

His attention drawn back to his counterpart, Hercules ignored the comment, demanding, "What have you done to the other gods in this world?"

"What have I done?" the evil demigod repeated, then laughed, as if the question was the most marvelous joke. "What have I done?" he said again, laughing in delight as he contemplated the answer, all the while moving closer to his uninvited, though not entirely unwelcome guests.

Following his lead, Nebula laughed as well, but she too was moving to circle to the side of the strange double who had appeared. She'd figured it out, of course, not being a fool. This was the Hercules from that other world and she wondered where the other Iolaus was, what trouble he might be causing.

Hercules watched them come and widened his stance, preparing for attack. Keeping his eyes on his twin, he called out to Ares and the Jester, "Do either of you know where the other gods are?"

"Uh huh," confirmed Ares, cringing a little, knowing there was going to be a fight and wishing he was somewhere else. "In the maze."

"SHUT UP!" screamed the Sovereign, whirling on the God of Love, "or I'll make you pay." Without pausing, the evil overlord swung around and leveled a punch at Hercules and the fight was on!

Hercules blocked the Sovereign's punch, and laid in with one of his own, a powerful hit to his counterpart's gut, sending him rocketing back across the chamber, but Nebula had taken the opportunity to leap on his back, going for his eyes with her lethal nails. He reached up and grabbed one arm, pulling her off and tossing her away, but she was scrambling back at him even as the Sovereign was stomping back to pound his twin into a pulp.

Iolaus watched, biting his lip, hating the role of observer. He'd been working on his skills, and managed to get Nebula's skirts to twist, tripping her, but it was only a delaying action and he knew it. Looking around, he wondered frantically how to help overpower these two maniacs. Nebula was screaming out curses, while the Sovereign was snarling in rage. Ares was cringing away, peeking out of one scrunched up eye to watch the action. The Jester was standing, shoulders hunched, one hand half shielding his eyes, his lips trembling in fear, wondering if he was dead and didn't know it. Hercules had been shocked to see him, so maybe he was dead!

Ares was bound, and couldn't be counted on to fight anyway. Herc could handle the Sovereign, probably, but he didn't need to have to deal with Nebula, too. If she distracted him, the bad guy could blindside him. That left the Jester. Making a face of distaste, but knowing he had little choice, Iolaus bounded over to his twin, muttering, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry," as he leapt into the other Iolaus' body. They were identical after all. . . why shouldn't he be able to just slip right in!

The Jester shrieked at the sudden violation of another soul invading his body, pulling at himself, as if he could somehow pull the other one, whoever it was, out. Iolaus was calling out to him, in his mind, trying to reassure him. "It's just me, Iolaus. . .uh, the other Iolaus. . .would ya calm down!"

But, was getting no where. So, hating it, Iolaus just took him over, shoving the quivering other spirit into a corner of his mind, and moving forward to take on Nebula. He was surprised, and not a little gratified, to find the body in such good shape. The other guy acted like such a wimp, but he was an athlete in his own right, the muscles well developed, reflexes excellent, hand and eye coordination superb. 'Alright!' Iolaus thought, liking the feel of having substance again, as he rolled across the path of the fury-maddened Sovereign, surprising and tripping him into Hercule's fist, then bounded up to whirl into a kick, driving Nebula back.

Hercules flashed a quizzical look at the now battling Jester, but his attention was soon caught with having to trade punches with someone every bit as strong as he was, and a whole lot more ruthless. Ares merely gaped, forgetting to cringe, having seen one Iolaus merge with the other. He couldn't believe his eyes. Nebula was stupefied to see the little runt attack her, but soon launched into a counter-assault. Having ripped her skirts to free her legs, she kicked back, then whirled, punching him hard. Iolaus' head snapped back, then he moved in, blocking another roundhouse punch, backhanding her hard, sending her staggering backwards.

By the time they were done, the throne room was a shambles, the throne itself knocked sideways off its marble base, large vases shattered, one over the Sovereign's head, knocking him senseless, finally, curtains ripped from the windows, chairs in broken pieces and two heroes were heaving for breath, sweat glazing their bodies and bruises beginning to grow dark.

"Wow!" Ares breathed, looking from one to the other, shaking his head, not sure whether to applaud or faint from the show. "You guys were like poetry in motion!"

"Uh huh," grunted Hercules, shaking out an aching fist as he turned to face the Jester. "Iolaus?" he asked, frowning slightly, wondering which one would answer.

"Yeah," the smaller man replied, a slight echo in his voice. Stepping out of the Jester, Iolaus held out his hands in apology as he continued, "Look, I'm sorry, really sorry but I didn't know what else to do. I know I scared you."

Hercules and Ares heard the apology, but the Jester just looked bewildered, looking around the room, knowing who or what had been inside was now gone, but not sure where he or it went. "What was that?" he asked, a slight whimper in his voice as he looked down at his hands and then at the prostrate Nebula.

Sighing, Hercules moved to lay a reassuring hand on the Jester's shoulder as he explained, "That was my partner, Iolaus, you can't see him, but he's standing just over there. I. . .well, uh. . .he's a spirit."

"A spirit?" this dimension's Iolaus repeated, his eyes wide, his mouth a little agape. It was true then, the other Iolaus. Suddenly, he began to shiver and tears appeared in his eyes as the reality set in. "He's DEAD?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess," Hercules stammered.

"You GUESS?" the little man shrilled, patting his body. "If he's dead then I must be dead! Oh, I'm DEAD!" Wailing in terror, wondering how he could be dead and not know it, wishing that being dead was better than being alive, he was oblivious of Hercules' efforts to reassure him, until the demigod grabbed him and held him steady.

"You're not dead," Hercules repeated again for the third time. "But I have to admit, I don't understand why not."

"Not dead" the timid man replied, looking from Hercules to Ares.

"Definitely not dead," Ares confirmed.

Sighing heavily, the Jester finally registered what it meant that the other Iolaus was dead. Looking up at Hercules, his eyes full of sympathy, he whispered, "Oh, I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say. When did it happen?"

Hercules looked over at his own Iolaus as he replied, "Almost a year ago. Look, it's a long story. Right now, I think we should be doing something about the gods of this world." Turning to Ares, he continued, "You said you know where they are? Does that mean they are still alive?"

"Yeah," the God of Love sighed. "But, they're trapped and it won't be easy to free them."

Moving across the chamber to the god, Hercules frowned as he studied the heavy manacles. "Maybe we could start by freeing you," he muttered.

"I doubt you can, hese were forged by Poseidon himself," Ares replied, looking resigned. He'd been wearing the chains for a while now and was almost used to them.

Iolaus joined his partner, studying the restraints thoughtfully. Impossible for a mortal, or even a god but maybe a ghost who knew how to pick locks would have more luck. "Let me see what I can do," he offered, frowning as he concentrated, his deft fingers moving first to the metal, and then delving inside. He couldn't touch or feel, exactly, but he could sense his fingers, letting his mind picture the internal workings. Closing his eyes, chewing unconsciously on his lip, he concentrated on the complicated mechanism that was hidden inside the metal. His mental energy probed here and there and then

Snick!

The cuffs parted and fell away. Ares looked up with a relieved grin of gratitude, the Jester looked astonished and Hercules nodded thoughtfully.

Iolaus looked up at his partner, guessing what he was thinking. "Sorry, I think I broke them, so we can't use them to restrain the Sovereign."

Cutting his partner a sideways rueful glance, Hercules grinned a little as he replied, "Well, it was worth a thought."

Snickering a little, Iolaus looked up at Ares as he asked, "So, can you take us to the other gods now?"

"I could," he replied, but then looked over at the Jester who had moved to stand with his back to the wall, nervous, not sure what was going on since he couldn't see or hear Iolaus. "But, my friend over there knows the way as well. Why don't I stay here, keep watch on these two. If they wake up, I can try distracting them but if that doesn't work, I can at least let you know they're following you."

Hercules looked from Ares to the Jester and nodded. There was no point in hoping the God of Love would fight the two power mad warmongers anymore than he would have expected such a thing from Aphrodite. They were lovers, not. . .well. . .he sighed.

The Jester had looked startled at the god's suggestion, preferring if at all possible to remain as invisible as his counterpart seemed to be. Hercules smiled at him reassuringly as he said, "Well, then, we'd best be off. They won't be out of it for long."

Twisting his hands together, the Jester gave the demigod an uncertain look, then shifted his gaze to the two unconscious rulers and shuddered, imagining their fury when they woke. Taking a deep breath, he nodded and stepped away from the wall, toward the door. "The gods are in the centre of the maze beneath the palace. This way."

With a last nod at Ares, the two heroes followed Iolaus' twin out into the hallway. The Jester was limping a little, and he kept looking around nervously, twitching then refocusing on the twists and turns of the complicated passageways of the rambling castle. The little man looked defeated and thoroughly miserable.

"He's hurting a lot," Iolaus said to Hercules. "That monster back there must've beaten him regularly. . .and hard."

Hercules frowned, sickened by the thought of his counterpart using his strength so cruelly. But, he thought something else might be bothering the Jester as he caught the man once again casting a nervous look over his shoulder and around the passageway. "What is it?" he called quietly. "Something's worrying you."

Ducking his head a little as he looked back then quickly away again, the Jester giggled nervously as he replied, "Worrying me? Well, there're the guards that'll attack if they see us, the. . .the Sovereign and Empress and what they'll do when they wake up and, well" his voice faded out as his shoulders tensed.

"And, you're worried Iolaus will take you over again?" Hercules suggested sympathetically.

Gulping, the Jester cut him a quick look, his eyes skittering around the passageway, then nodded, clearly upset by the idea. "I. . . well. . .it felt. . ."

Iolaus winced and sighed. I shouldn't have done that to him," Iolaus said earnestly. "I won't do it again. . .at least not without his permission. I know I really scared him but I didn't know what else to do. Taking care of the Sovereign was enough without having to deal with that harridan, too."

"Iolaus apologizes. He just wanted to help me deal with the Sovereign and Nebula. But, he knows it was wrong to take you over without your permission. He won't do it again without asking," Hercules relayed the message.

The Jester had paused, watching the demigod while he'd clearly been listening to the other Iolaus. Taking a deep breath, he tried to settle the pounding of his heart and his anger at being so helpless inside his own body. It was bad enough to be helpless to outside threats. He'd felt violated in a way he'd never experienced before, and that was saying something. Gritting his teeth, he nodded in wordless acceptance of the apology, explanation and promise. "I know I'm a coward and useless but, well, alright. Just so's he doesn't do it again," he said quietly, adding miserably as he turned away, "unless he has to. I know he's a lot more help than I am in a fight."

He didn't speak the words, "It would have been better if I'd been the one who'd been killed in the first place."

But, he didn't have to. His dejected, self contemptuous posture and voice said it all.

The two heroes exchanged a look that showed they'd both heard and understood all that had been said. "It's not true, you know," Iolaus said as they hurried through the dark passageways. "He's in really good condition, great reflexes and he's no coward! Gods, I don't know how he's survived so long here, with what the Sovereign does to him. How do we get him to understand that courage isn't just about trading punches?"

His eyes on their guide, Hercules shook his head as he bit his lip thoughtfully. Then, he lengthened his stride a little, saying quietly, "Iolaus, listen to me. You are NOT a coward and you're far from useless. Without you, we wouldn't know where to begin looking for the imprisoned gods. A coward wouldn't be helping us. He'd have run at the first chance he got to get away from here."

Laughing bitterly, the Jester replied, "I tried that once. Got away. Almost a year ago now. I didn't know where to go, where to hide. So, I went to this cave place, behind a wall" Looking up at Hercules, he said with a note of wonder, "You must know the place. That must have been how you got here. Anyway, the Sovereign figured it out and came for me." He sighed and shuddered at the same time at that memory. "I'd run if I thought it would do any good but there's no where to go where he can't find me. So, what's the point?"

Hercules laid a gentle hand on the man's shoulder, making the Jester jump a little. The reflexive response to the touch of his hand made the demigod wince but he maintained the strong yet almost tender grip. "You can make excuses for your courage as much as you want, if it makes you feel better. But, my partner and I know the truth. You can't hide your bravery from us, no matter how hard you might try to deny it."

Blinking hard, biting his lip, the Jester kept his head down, unable to speak for the lump in his throat. They thought he was brave. Respected him. No one else ever had before. Oh, Joxer had hoped and pushed him, but there'd always been doubt in the rebel's eyes. Sniffing, rubbing the back of his hand under his nose, the Jester carried on, leading them ever lower, down narrow dusty staircases of chiseled stone, until finally they came to a large oaken door, rounded at the top and locked solidly against intruders.

"The maze is on the other side," he explained, gesturing to it. Hercules gave the barrier a considered look, his fingers exploring its contours, then he stepped back and gave it a mighty kick, sending it flying into the space beyond, where it landed with a resounding crash.

The Jester blinked, then led the way forward into the darkness beyond, hesitating just inside to grope for a torch and light it with the flint that was always left there. In the faltering, flickering light, the heroes made out a huge open space, a cavern carved beneath the earth, massive stone pillars supporting the vaulted ceiling, stone benches positioned against the walls, the floor flagged stone. It was chilly and damp, spooky. . .and there was an indefinable odour of danger, even of malice. Iolaus felt the hackles rise on the back of his neck, as Hercules murmured, "What is this place?"

"The maze," the Jester replied succinctly, leading the way down the shallow stone steps. "Zeus created it for his half mortal son to play in and then he'd forget Her. . .uh, his son, was in here, and leave him alone, lost in the dark, sometimes for days. Zeus is crazy, more than a few slices short of a loaf and mean, sometimes. Very, very mean."

The heroes glanced at one another, thinking this went a long way toward explaining the Sovereign's insanity. The Jester paused at the bottom of the steps, quivering with fear. He hated this place. Was always afraid he'd never find a way out againand there were so many traps that his young friend had confided to him long ago. Traps that would swallow up a mortal, leaving nothing but bones to molder through the ages.

Hercules took note of the shudders of fear that wracked the smaller man's body. "You don't have to go any farther, we can take it from here," he offered.

For a moment, naked hope shone in the Jester's eyes at the thought of being able to run back out through that doorway, but then his shoulders slumped. "You'd never find your way through, not in time," he whispered, knowing he had no choice but to lead him. . .them. . .onward. He again looked around, wondering where the other Iolaus was. Wondering how his double had died and why they weren't both dead.

Well, in a little while, they both might be.

They'd been silently crossing the flagged stone toward a darkened entrance past the pillars, the Jester about to warn Hercules of the serpent, when the monster streaked out of the darkness, mouth agape, fangs glittering in the torchlight, hissing viciously.

Shrieking in startled terror, Iolaus ran back, around a pillar, trembling so hard he almost dropped the torch. Hercules backed up in surprise, then sidestepped and landed a powerful punch against the beast's head as it brushed by, just missing him. The power of his blow deflected the massive snake briefly, but otherwise had no visible effect as the thing regrouped and attacked again. When Hercules dashed away, trying to move it farther from the Jester, the serpent whipped around and back toward the quarry that was frozen in fear.

Before Hercules could swing back, the serpent was lunging at its new victim. It was just about to gulp down its prize when one of the stone benches flew from the wall, hitting it squarely between the eyes, stunning it, driving it back. Hercules got to the Jester and pulled him out of the beast's path, pushing him ahead as the demigod ran a complicated pattern around the pillars, the serpent hot on their trail.

They just made it, Hercules practically throwing the Jester ahead of him as they lunged through the darkened portal into the maze beyond, the serpent caught and held just short of snapping up the demigod's body, so twisted around the pillars that it had tied itself in knots.

Pausing once they got to safety, puffing a little, Hercules steadied the Jester and looked back, calling, "Iolaus!"

His partner came through the portal behind them, moving as if he was a little dazed. "You alright?" Hercules asked, his eyes narrowed. It might only be the light, or lack of it, but he thought Iolaus looked as if he'd faded a little.

"Yeah," Iolaus waved off the concern he heard in the voice, trying to look as normal as he ever did these days. Tossing that bench, as heavy as a small boulder, had had the usual effect. Weakness and dizziness. But, he'd learned as he'd practiced night after night, pushing his kinetic power farther and farther, trying to find his limits, that the after-effects didn't last. "Let's go," he urged, when Hercules continued to watch him.

Nodding a little uncertainly, Hercules turned away, gesturing to the Jester to lead the way.

"Did he. . .uh. . .Iolaus do that?" the Jester asked, referring to the tossed bench that had saved his life.

"Yeah, I guess he did," Hercules replied with a tone of amazed respect.

"I didn't know ghosts could do that," his companion commented, awestruck.

"Neither did I," the demigod replied, casting a look over his shoulder that said, 'You could have told me!'

Iolaus just grinned devilishly, delighted that he'd been of some use and that he'd managed to surprise Hercules so effectively. The Jester paused a moment in the silence, looking up at Hercules. "Where is he?" he asked.

When Hercules stopped and pointed back at Iolaus, the Jester turned to face the spirit he couldn't see, as he said very soberly, "Thank you for saving my life." Awkward, shy, he immediately turned away to continue leading the way through the convoluted tunnels, choosing their route when the passages diverged.

********

In the half hour or so that had elapsed since the others had left, Ares had had time to consider how he might divert the two hellions sprawled on the thick, crimson carpets, the colour of freshly spilled blood. When they moaned and began to stir, the god took refuge behind the throne that was lying sideways on the floor and made an upward tossing movement with his hands. Immediately, scented rose petals fell from the ceiling onto the Sovereign and his mate.

They woke to throbbing headaches and the irresistible pull of lust coursing through their veins. Nebula rolled over and spotted her lover, a low animal growl of want in her voice as she half crawled, half lunged toward him. Coming to his knees, he spun toward her, his eyes burning with desire, and they came together with a violent urgency. Ares grinned almost evilly as he tossed more enchanted rose petals in their direction.

There is such a thing as overdoing it.

The petals cascading around them like the flurry of a snow storm, caught the Sovereign's attention and he growled, pulling away from Nebula's embrace, looking up and then around at the phenomenon. When his gaze landed on Ares, he rose like an enraged bull to charge at the god.

Ares muttered, 'Oops!' and vanished from sight, leaving the Sovereign to kick in fury at the throne, demolishing it in his rage as he screamed out his inarticulate anger.

Still caught by the force of the spell, Nebula lay sprawled on her stomach, looking up at him, reaching toward him as she called seductively, "C'mon lover, I want you!"

Heaving for breath, trying to calm himself enough to think, the Sovereign turned slowly, his eyes raking the throne room, then landing upon her as he stalked forward, reaching down to grab the outstretched arm, hauling her roughly to her feet. "Later. First we have to kill those bastards," he growled, dragging her through the doorway and into the hall, heading toward the maze.

Shaking off the effects of the rose petals, Nebula stiffened and then she was running in his wake.

If the gods were freed, there was no telling what they might do in revenge.

Especially Cupid, who'd be less than amused by their betrayal.

********

Hercules was beginning to wonder if there was any end to this confusing maze of passages. He'd had to move quickly at one point to sprawl over the Jester, protecting them both from a plunging juggernaut of a massive blade that cut across one passage. Further along, he'd had to deflect boulders that had fallen from above, a quick shower of stone that would have killed the mortal with him.

The Jester was clearly terrified, exercising all of his will to keep going. He shied away from the scurry of rats, feeling a fool, knowing the other Iolaus wouldn't be so stupidly afraid. But, he couldn't help himself. He was almost petrified with fear.

Just moments ago, they'd escaped a passage that seemed determined to suck them under the ground, like a pool of quicksand that dragged them down. Memories, horrible, sickening memories, had played out on one of the walls, tormenting and taunting him with his failures, his crimes of pride, showing Hercules how he'd led his friends and comrades to their deaths in the revolution that had flared when the Sovereign had disappeared into the void. Tears streaming down his face, gulping out his agonized explanation of how he'd tried to be brave and had only gotten everyone killed, he was devastated to know he'd led Hercules to this place, where he, too, would now die for the foolishness of following a fool.

Hercules had figured it out, noticing that the more agitated the Jester became, the more shrill his grief, the quicker they were sucked down, the sand now to the Jester's waist and above his own knees. Cutting across the Jester's hysterical confession, Hercules shouted, "STOP!"

Startled, the Jester almost bit his tongue as he choked back words and stared wide-eyed, tears flowing down his pale cheeks, not surprised the demigod had turned on him in rage. But, Hercules' next words confused him, as the demigod continued quietly, almost soothingly, "Stop beating yourself up. This place. . .it feeds on guilt. You didn't do anything wrong. You tried to help your friends, you couldn't help not having the numbers, the strength, skills or proper weapons. None of that was your fault!"

Trying to breathe more slowly, understanding that it was his fear that was killing them, the Jester looked around helplessly, afraid to speak, afraid the truth as he knew it would condemn them now. He was a coward. It had been his fault that they'd died. And, his greatest crime was that he'd survived. But, he didn't want anyone else to die on his account, certainly not Hercules! Turning back to the demigod, he looked up with a guilt-ridden expression of hopelessness.

"Listen to me," the demigod continued, "you are not a coward. A coward would not have tried to fight back. A coward wouldn't feel such guilt and sorrow for what he couldn't help. A coward would not have been able to survive the torture of the Sovereign all these years or have come back to free my Iolaus from the horror of this world. A coward would not be here now. Just take it easy. Breathe slowly, deeply. Don't look at those lies on the wall. Look at me and take my hand." Reaching out to the Jester, Hercules gripped the hand that was held out so tentatively, and pulled gently, freely the Jester from the sand that gripped him, then eased himself free. Taking their time, he led them to the end of that passage, his arm looped reassuringly around the Jester's quivering shoulders.

"Thank you," whispered the Jester when they'd made it to safety. "But" he turned a determined face to the demigod, needing to speak the truth. "it was my fault. They all died because of me." There were tears of anguish glinting in his eyes, but he straightened, ready for the condemnation he believed he so rightly deserved.

Hercules felt tears sting his own eyes at the nobility of this tortured soul. Swallowing against the lump in his own throat, he shook his head. His voice a little hoarse, he said firmly, "No, they died because of the Empress and the evil of this world. You did your best to save them. Just as you're doing your best now, even though you are afraid. Doing what you fear to do because it's the right thing to do makes you a hero. That's what you really are, my friend. A hero. I don't ever again want you hear you try to tell me any different. I won't allow you to keep lying to yourself. It isn't right."

The Jester's eyes filled and his lips quivered as he tried to hold the emotion inside. Absolution from the one being he'd ever respected, if not the only one he'd ever loved, almost shattered him. He sniffed and swallowed, desperate not to cry. Hercules pulled him close into a hug, wishing so much that he could take away all the pain, all the terrible memories this man had to carry in his soul. The Jester stood there in the circle of those impossibly strong arms, sheltered for the first time in his life from that pain, taking deep shuddering breaths to control the feelings that surged within him. Iolaus watched silently, then closed his eyes as his head dropped in silent sorrow for all his counterpart had suffered. In a moment, no more, the Jester pulled away, nodding and sniffing, not able to look up at Hercules, afraid he really would lose complete control. Turning, he'd led them further into the maze.

They were getting close now, he knew it and was almost pathetically grateful for that fact. Suddenly, he backed up in startled alarm when Ares popped into sight in the middle of their path. "They're on the way," the god warned. "And, are they mad!"

"Are they ever not 'mad'?" Hercules replied dryly, looking toward the Jester.

The little man nodded, responding to the look rather than to the words, stammering with an anxious voice, "I know, we have to hurry!" Turning away, he started to run, still limping a little, along the remaining distance. Not far now. . .not far.

********

Jason had kept up his 'praying', storming at the gods of Olympus, taunting them, damning them all for cowards, demanding they take a hand in this.

It was beginning to be annoying, and the gods were getting irritated. If that ex-king, antique Argonaut didn't soon stop his ranting, they might have to actually do something to shut him up.

One, in particular, did not take at all well to being damned as a coward but Zeus wouldn't let him just blast the noisy mortal into oblivion. Ares ground his teeth, seething, knowing he couldn't put up with much more of this contempt.

********

The Jester had led them as quickly as he could along the only route that he knew through the maze. But, stumbling as he came to a halt inside the cavern in its centre, he moaned unconsciously, realizing there must, of course, be another way. The golden sphere was no longer suspended above the stone plinth at the far end. He was already looking wildly about, knowing danger had to be near, when Hercules loped in behind him.

"They're here," the Jester mumbled, his voice tight with fear, his face pale, distraught. "The golden globe is gone."

Hercules straightened, looking around the open space, noting the numerous passages that led off from its perimeter. What globe?

Laughing with evil delight, the Sovereign emerged from one such passage, a sword in one hand, his other carelessly tossing the globe into the air. "Looking for this?" he inquired, vastly amused and very, very angry.

The Jester hissed, not sure what would happen if his ruler dropped the delicate sphere. Would everyone in it be destroyed? "Oh, please," he whimpered, "don't let him drop it!"

"Stay here," the demigod cautioned, laying a hand briefly on the Jester's shoulder, as he advanced into the cavern. Iolaus focused on the globe, his eyes narrowing as he tried to get a grip on the bouncing ball.

"Oh? You want to fight for it, do you?" the Sovereign taunted his double, smiling with anticipation as Hercules moved toward him. "Fine with me!" he called out as he looped the sphere high into the air, over Hercules' head to Nebula who had appeared out of another passage on the far side.

"I'm on her!" shouted Iolaus, running across the cavern to follow her into the darkness, while the two demigods advanced on one another, the Jester and Ares cowering by the wall. The two angry doubles almost crashed together, swinging hard, connecting with impacts that thudded sickeningly, echoing around the cavern, the Sovereign cursing and taunting, Hercules grimly silent. The hero slammed hard into his opponent's solar plexis, then swung a powerful uppercut, catching his double on the jaw, sending him crashing to the stone floor. The Sovereign lashed out with his leg, tripping the demigod, then rolled, coming to his feet to disappear into the passageway, just as Iolaus ran out of one back into the cavern and Nebula appeared in another. Hercules charged after the evil overlord.

She couldn't see the ghost, and Iolaus was almost upon her, when the Sovereign appeared again from another direction, and saw the threat. "Look out! Throw it to me!" he screamed, thinking she was an idiot, not understanding that this Iolaus was a ghost.

Not understanding, but obeying instantly, she tossed it high and far, straight into his hands, as Iolaus tried to pull up but ended up running right through her. She shivered at the sudden shaft of ice that had passed through her middle, looking around, wondering where it had come from. The Sovereign disappeared just as Hercules raced in from the side, cursing when he realized the passages crisscrossed and all led back to the centre. "Which way?" he called to the Jester, who pointed at the direction the Sovereign had gone. Hercules turned and dashed back the way he'd come, hoping to intercept his foe, while Nebula pulled a knife from her boot. With an evil grin that promised murder, she advanced on the Jester.

Iolaus turned, and took a deep breath when he realized the danger his counterpart was in. Time to try another trick. Racing around to get in front of her, he tightened his focus, his fists clenching unconsciously, as he dove in front of her, using his whole being as an obstacle and she tripped headlong, screaming in fury, rolling quickly to regain her feet, the knife still clutched in her hands.

The Jester backed up against the wall, watching her come, knowing the other Iolaus was trying to help but was handicapped by being a ghost. Taking a deep breath, shuddering in dread, he cried out, "Do it! Take my body!"

Iolaus paused for just a moment, a look of awed respect in his eyes, then he dove into the Jester, and moved into action, rolling forward to throw Nebula off her feet, then springing up, whirling to kick out, knocking the knife from her hand. Cursing, she scuttled away to gain room to maneuver, then leapt to the attack. He blocked a punch, his other hand moving quickly to grab her wrist to keep her from scratching his eyes out. Twisting, he looped a leg behind her, tripping her, but she anticipated and pulled back, before advancing again, murder in her eyes.

Iolaus hated fighting her. With every block, every swing, he saw his own Nebula, and knew he was unconsciously pulling his punches, hesitating. And he couldn't afford to. She was deadly, had no mercy and was a very skilled combatant. They grappled again, and he dropped, rolling backward, throwing her up and over. She went flying and connected solidly with the stone plinth, slumping unconscious.

Breathing heavily, Iolaus scrambled to his. . .their feet and looked around, just in time to see the Sovereign emerge from yet another portal, Hercules diving in right behind him, knocking the Sovereign hard. The evil demigod went sprawling, the globe flying from his hands. Iolaus' eyes widened and he lunged, diving forward, reaching. . .reaching. . .and caught the precious globe just before it crashed to the floor. Rolling into a tight curl, the globe sheltered tight against his chest, he knew he had to get away from the battling demigods.

But, the Sovereign, knowing the globe was the whole point, ignored his twin and scrambled up after the globe, kicking viciously at the Jester's curled back, holding nothing back in his fury as he screamed, "Traitor! Coward!". His victim went flying, hard and fast toward the far wall, but the beings inside the body, united in their purpose, worked together, the Jester fighting the terrible pain that ripped through him from the vicious assault, as he forced his body into an acrobat twist in the air, to hit the wall with his back. Stunned, he slid down, but he didn't loosen his grip on the globe.

Hercules attacked the Sovereign, grabbing an arm to pull the brutal creature around, furious at the assault on the Jester and his partner who he'd realized was again inside his double and ploughed mercilessly into his twin. One powerful slug after another, pounding out retribution, until the Sovereign staggered and collapsed in a heap.

Hercules spun on his heel and raced over to the fallen Jester, who was shaking his head, trying to drive back the darkness and not scream from the pain radiating with fiery brutality through his body from the deadly damage done by the Sovereign's vicious assault. "Iolaus!" the demigod cried, kneeling, "are you alright?"

The spirit separated from his twin, shaking his head, "He's hurt, Herc. . .bad."

Hercules gingerly took the globe from the Jester's trembling hands and lifted up to Ares' waiting grip. "Easy," he murmured to his small friend, laying a hand on his shoulder, "try to breathe slowly, you'll be alright."

Iolaus looked back at the Sovereign and saw the villain's questing fingers had found the blade Nebula had dropped and was pulling back, to throw it at Hercules' unprotected back.

"Incoming!" Iolaus cried, concentrating on the blade, catching it in midair, then dropping it.

Ares had turned away even as Hercules stood and whirled to face his foe. Nebula was struggling to her feet, supporting herself on the plinth, also readying herself for another attack. The Sovereign was going for his sword and Iolaus knew his counterpart just wasn't up to any more. Ares had laid the globe gingerly on the ground and clapped three times, the sound echoing through the chamber even as the Sovereign and Nebula both charged the demigod.

The cavern erupted in blinding light, and the roaring sound of furious gods pounded at their ears. Bolts of fire blistered around the space, taking the Sovereign and his consort full in the chest, blasting them back senseless against the walls.

A golden carpet spilled into the cavern, and furious gods lined the chamber, breathing heavily, hatred blazing from their eyes. They'd had time, plenty of it, to decide upon a fitting revenge. The two unconscious rulers of that benighted world were lifted, wafted to the centre of the chamber, even as Aphrodite and Ares pushed Hercules and the Jester off the edges of the shimmering floor covering. Ares called out to Iolaus, "Get out of the cavern!"

Once the three innocents were just inside one of the passages, the gods looked from one to another then raised their hands. Clapping, once, twice, then a third time, the sound echoing off the walls and ceiling like thunder, the golden material snapped together around the unconscious evilmongers, rolling itself back into a sphere in the centre of the cavern. Cupid stepped forward then, picking it up and carrying it to the plinth where he set it suspended in the air. It could hang there for all of the rest of time for all any of them cared.

The Jester was watching, hunched in on himself, one hand pressed against his side, tears in his eyes. Then, he closed them and turned his head away with a sad sigh. It was over. Finally over. He was dying, he knew it and welcomed it.

But, he mourned nonetheless, though not for himself. He mourned one he'd lost long ago, though his one time best friend had only now been imprisoned, perhaps for good this time. Biting his lip, he tried not to moan in pain, not sure whether it was from the horrible tearing pain in his back, or the unbearable anguish of a shattered heart.

Gods had begun to stream from the chamber, one wall having disappeared to reveal light and the passageway out of the maze. Iolaus, aware of his twin's pain, knowing he was dying, cried out, "For the love of mercy, won't someone help him!"

Aphrodite, the Goddess of Light and Medicine, paused and looked back. Sympathy was written on her face as she waved a hand. She could take away some of the pain, if not all of it. Then, in a flash, she was gone.

Ares, God of Love, was the only one who remained. There was sorrow in his eyes as he gazed at the suffering Jester who slumped against the wall, his head turned away. Ares reached out, gently touching the small man's shoulder, but even he could not heal all that pain, born as it was from love itself.

Hercules looked from the Jester to the golden globe, then back at his own partner, a question in his eyes. Iolaus said quietly, knowing his counterpart couldn't hear him, "I shared his memories, as well as his body, Herc. There was a time when they were, well, friends, like us." Turning to look at the Jester, the warrior soul murmured, "He loved the bastard. Despite the terrible things, he loved him. Gods, the Sovereign is a vicious, cruel monster and sure didn't deserve it but Iolaus remembers and mourns the man who could have been decent if he'd ever had a chance."

Hercules swallowed and sighed heavily, looking away. He didn't know how to even begin offering solace to this generous, sorrowing man whose courage and compassion were staggering. Shaking his head, weary of all of it, feeling a vague guilt that it was his double who had wreaked such misery, he straightened. They were finished here. It was time to go.

There was a flash in the centre of the cavern as Ares, God of War, materialized to their surprise and concern. What was he doing there?

"All right!" thundered the god, incandescent in his righteous glory. "Where's the damned Sovereign?"

Sighing, Hercules replied, "Ares, what are you doing here?"

Rolling his shoulders, looking ready for battle, the god replied, "That blasted exile from the throne of Corinth has been screaming at all of us up on Olympus to move our butts and help you out, little brother. Calling us cowards. I don't like being called a coward. Besides, I was curious. So, where's the action?" As he asked the question, his eyes roamed the cavern and froze at the sight of the God of Love.

"What in the blazes are you supposed to be?" he roared, appalled.

Smiling benignly, the God of Love struck a coy posture and cooed, "I'm you, honeycake. The God of Luuuvvve!"

"Don't say that!" Ares replied, aghast and horrified. "Don't EVER say that! I swear if I was you, I'd kill myself to end the humiliation! Do you know how fat you. . .I. . .YOU look in that ridiculous white stretchy stuff! Ugghhh!" the black leatherclad god shuddered, while the other one looked wounded to his very soul. Twisting around, looking down at himself, he whimpered, "You think so? Do you think so?" Pleading eyes turned to Hercules. A puppy dog that had just been kicked couldn't have looked so mournful.

Hercules grinned as he shook his head. "Relax," he soothed, "He's just jealous."

"JEALOUS!" roared the offended god. "Why I have half a mind to"

"Ares, you shouldn't leave yourself wide open like that" Iolaus giggled, rolling his eyes at Hercules. "'Course, with only half a mind he can't really help himself!" he chortled in delight.

"That's it," seethed the God of War. "We're out of here. I told that ranting moron back there to shut up and I'd bring you back, so let's go."

The Jester had looked up at all the shouting, too weary and dispirited to even remember to be afraid of the fearsome Ares. "I'll show you the way back to the cave," he offered, not really wanting to see the last of Hercules, making the encounter last as long as it could.

Hercules looped an arm around his shoulders as he replied, "Thanks, I think that would be a good idea."

The two of them led the way out the illuminated stairwell in the back of the cavern behind the plinth, one Ares seething, the other simpering, and Iolaus giggling uncontrollably whenever he looked at the two of them.

********

The Jester accompanied them right through the wall in the back of the courtyard and across the cave inside to where the vortex should have been.

But it was closed, the wall of rock sealing them in.

"Great," muttered Hercules, rolling his eyes in weary disgust. "Now what?"

Ares, God of War, scratched his cheek, disgusted by the whole business. Ares, God of Love, frowned in thought. The two of them reluctantly looked at one another, realizing they'd have to cooperate. Rolling his eyes, the God of War rumbled, "If you'd get out of the way, brother, maybe we could open it up again."

Hercules looked back at Ares and, understanding, moved to the side, gesturing with his hand toward the end of the cave, "Be my guest."

He and Iolaus had moved closer together, Herc's arm around his friend's shoulder, knowing that only here, for a brief space in time, could he touch his partner. Iolaus gazed at his twin, who was standing a little to the side, looking lost and forlorn.

"Come with us," the warrior said, spontaneously, without a moment's thought, but even as he said it, knowing it was the right thing.

"Wwwhat?" stammered the Jester, looking confused. He'd finally been able to see his counterpart, as soon as they'd entered the cave in the void and it made him uncomfortable to know that this courageous warrior was really dead. It was wrong. If either of them had had to die, he knew it would better have been him.

Turning to Hercules, Iolaus urged, "Tell him, Herc. Tell him to come. There's nothing here for him. Nothing but terrible memories. He should have a fresh start. We could help him."

Hercules looked from his partner to the Jester, and nodded thoughtfully. "Iolaus is right. Come with us."

"But I'd just be in the way. I can't ask" he replied, but there was an unmistakable look of longing in his eyes. He could leave here? Never come back? Start a new life? It was. . .unimaginable.

"You're not asking. We are. Please?" Hercules insisted gently. If there was anything he could do to try to make up for some of the grief his double had caused this loyal, decent soul, he'd do it. Gladly.

The Jester looked from Hercules to Iolaus, who nodded encouragingly. His gaze shifted from them to Ares, God of Love, who was watching him with infinite compassion as he said softly, "Go with them. You deserve some happiness."

Ares, God of War, had had about as much of all this schmaltz as he could take. "Oh, for the love of!" he exclaimed, disgusted as he lashed out toward the end of the cave with a blinding bolt of lightning. His counterpart immediately joined him and the second bolt, joined with the first, erupted with a blaze of power and opened the swirling void beyond.

"Will you come with us?" demanded Hercules, shouting over the roar of the void, the wind pulling at his hair.

"YES!" exclaimed the Jester, who immediately looked taken aback by his own temerity. But, his eyes blazed with hope and gratitude for this gift of a new life. . .a promise of something infinitely better than anything he'd ever known or dared dream of in his tortured life.

"Well, then, let's GO!" snarled Ares, taking him by the arm, and without a glance to either side, marched them both into the void.

Hercules and Iolaus paused a moment longer, to look back at the God of Love. "Thank you," Hercules called out and the god nodded, understanding it was for having urged the Jester to go with them. With a dignity they'd not seen in him before, Ares straightened and smiled at them as he replied, "No, thank you. Take care of him. . .he's the best amongst us all."

They turned then, and raced into the howling vortex, heading back to their own world.

Ares watched them go. Watched the void collapse back into itself, leaving him alone in the dim cavern. His eyes were damp, and he swallowed hard. He'd miss that little guy, the one who'd given him hope that there was still some shred of decency left in his benighted world. Breathing out a long sigh, he turned back to his world, determined to remain inspired by the Jester's example and do all he could to bring love back, to help the mortals here find the better way to live an existence worth more than simply surviving.

An existence worth celebrating with joy, every day.

It was his job. He was the God of Love. And, he'd teach them how to love one another if it killed him.