CHANGE OF SCENERY
by Amorette

The first line of the story was the challenge. This is my story about those important moments that change a person's life; in this case, Iolaus'.

Iolaus knew that this time he had pushed Hercules too far. He could see the annoyance clearly in Hercules' thinned lips.

"And just what," said Hercules, his voice too precise, too controlled, "did you think you were doing?"

"I thought," Iolaus replied, angry, "I was protecting your back. All right, I admit, it wasn't my best plan. . ."

"It wasn't a plan at all! It was suicide. I swear, Iolaus, I don't know what I'm going to do with you!"

Hercules turned sharply on his heel and started walking back down the narrow mountain track, waving his hands in the air as his aggrieved voice came back to Iolaus. "You should think things through before you act. How many times have I told you that! Did you even stop, for one second, and consider what you were doing?"

Iolaus didn't answer. He didn't follow either. He stood, frozen, watching Hercules' retreating back, as his friend rounded a turn in the path. The road was steep, with a series of sharp switchbacks leading down to the valley below. Hercules didn't have far to go before he was no longer visible to Iolaus, although the other man could still hear his friend's voice, chastising him, as it faded in the distance.

What am I going to do, Iolaus thought. What now?

Instead of running after Hercules, Iolaus shouldered his pack, swung his sword onto his back and walked the opposite direction up the track until he saw the faint path that lead away from the trail. It was nothing more than a path animals followed, from the pastures above to a stream below. Careful to leave no trace behind, Iolaus left the trail and headed up the mountain, through the heavy bracken, moving as silently as possible, leaving no sign of his passing.

Faintly, Iolaus could hear Hercules calling his name. He hesitated automatically before continuing his climb. Soon, he couldn't hear anything except the sounds of the alpine forest around him, the rustle of a soft wind in the tree tops, the cries of birds as they flitted brightly above his head, the whisper of a trickle of water.

Iolaus followed the sound of water until he found a small stream, barely a handspan in width, winding under and around some mossy rocks, fed by the last of the melting snows on the higher peaks. He dropped to his belly and drank the cool water, then splashed some on his face.

"What am I going to do with me?" he whispered to the trees. The slope was steep enough that he had to wedge his pack and sword behind a rock to keep them from sliding away. Then he climbed up on the rock, where the afternoon sun was still filtering through the trees, and stared out across the valley.

They had run into the usual bandits harassing travelers on the road through the pass. Eight of them, badly armed and uncoordinated, against Hercules and Iolaus. The fight had been like so many others. So many others.

Iolaus ran his hands across his face. That had been the problem. He hadn't been enjoying it. Ordinarily, Iolaus relished a nice uneven battle. He loved the look on a big, filthy thug's face when said thug was felled by a smaller, cleaner man. He loved the speed and movement, the challenge, the battle rush, the feeling that he and Hercules were almost dancing together, acting and reacting to each other's moves.

But today, Iolaus hadn't felt that. He had felt. . .tired. Annoyed. Sick of fighting the same damn fight over and over and over. He hadn't felt as if he could anticipate his partner's every move. He hadn't cared. He just wanted the fight ended, as quickly as possible, so he had done a couple of rash things, nearly taking a knife in the chest. He rubbed the scratch under his collarbone, checking to see that it had stopped bleeding.

"Iolaus," he muttered. "What is wrong with you? This is what you wanted. Fighting back to back with Hercules forever." He thought that over. Forever? Forever, when you're a child, is a very long time. Iolaus couldn't imagine, then, ever wanting to do anything except fight at Hercules' side. He couldn't imagine ever wanting a different life. He loved sleeping under the stars, hunting his meals, facing enemies at every turn. Didn't he?

Sighing, Iolaus wrapped his arms around his bent legs, resting his forehead on his knees. No, that was the problem. He didn't want this life any more. He wanted something else. Someone else.

They had stayed for a couple of days in a village, waiting for some bad weather to pass. They stayed with a distant kinsman of Iolaus', a man the same age as Iolaus within a few days. Hercules had been amused by Iolaus' kinsman, pointing out that the two men resembled each other, save that the kinsman was plump, with thinning hair. He was well-off, too, living in a comfortable home above his rug shop, with a plump jolly wife and three plump, jolly children.

"Can you imagine," Hercules had whispered in Iolaus' ear, snickering, "living like that?"

The terrible truth was, Iolaus could. He very much could. He watched his rug merchant cousin scolding his children, teasing his wife, bargaining with his customers, and found himself feeling. . .envious.

Envious of those three small, fair-haired children, a boy and two girls, the youngest only a few months old. His cousin had laughed when he offered the two men shelter, warning them she had a good set of lungs, had his youngest, and she was bound to wake them a few times in the night. Hercules, sleeping by the fire, had grumbled and pulled his pillow over his head when the baby squawked. Iolaus had laid on the couch, listening to the soft voices of husband and wife as they dealt with the interruption to their peaceful night's sleep, feeling a strange emptiness in his stomach.

He'd never had that kind of family life. There had been moments, usually when his cold, distant father, wasn't home, when he and his mother and his surviving sister had enjoyed a peaceful evening gathered around the fire but even then, Iolaus had been desperate to break away, to find a life of adventure and excitement.

And now he had it.

"Iolaus? Where in Tartarus. . Iolaus!"

He could hear Hercules blundering through the forest below, shouting for his friend. He didn't sound annoyed any more. He sounded worried. Iolaus hesitated.

Might as well get it over with. Iolaus raised his head.

"Up here, Herc."

"Up where?"

"UP HERE!"

He waited. It didn't take long. Hercules came into sight, puffing a little at the effort it took to climb straight up. He didn't look delighted to see his partner.

"What was that all about, wandering off?" The other man's expression softened, reacting to something in saw in Iolaus' face. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." Iolaus bowed his head again, aware of Hercules approaching him nervously.

"Are you hurt? Did that. . ."

Sighing, Iolaus looked up at his friend. "I'm not hurt. I've just been thinking."

Hercules grinned. "That probably hurt. Sorry." Instantly contrite, Hercules could tell some was seriously bothering his friend. Carefully, he sat down next to Iolaus. "Thinking about what?"

"Thinking I'm not getting any younger."

"What? Because that idiot got in a lucky thrust? Iolaus, you're still the best fighter I have ever met."

"No." How could he explain to Hercules what he wasn't sure he understood himself. He studied his interlaced fingers. "Herc, I'm almost thirty years old. I'm middle-aged."

"C'mon, you're not. . ."

"Yes, I am." He stared at Hercules. "You might live forever but I know I'm not going to and I'm not getting any younger. A man my age, a man like my cousin, should be a respectable citizen, with a home and a family, not a wandering warrior with no prospects and no future."

His voice faded, unhappy. Hercules looked as if he might be sick. Iolaus watched his friend swallow slowly, licking his lips. Iolaus tried again to explain.

"I don't mean I haven't loved our life but. . ."

"You want a wife and family."

"Yeah." Iolaus shook his head, laughing weakly. "I know, I never thought I'd say it either but. . ." He sighed. "It seemed so . . .nice. . .sitting there in my cousin's house, with his wife fussing over him, his children gathered around. If I want that someday, I'm going to start working towards it because right now, no woman would have me. I'm a wandering warrior, not even a mercenary, and I don't have anything to offer a woman."

Hercules raised an eyebrow. "Any woman in particular?"

Defensively, Iolaus retorted, "Maybe."

"That woman you met at the spring festival, what was her name?"

"Ania. And I don't know if she'd be interested in me or not but even if she was, what could I offer her? A home? A husband who stayed home?" He shook his head again. "I can't bring a wife along with me when I'm traveling with you. Herc, I don't want to hurt you. . ."

"But you want your own life." Now it was Hercules' turn to shrug. "Hardly something to be ashamed of. In fact, it sounds like a great idea to me. If you get married, have a family, then I'll have some place to stay besides my mother's." He tried to sound happy but it was obvious to both men he wasn't succeeding. "Truth is, I kind of suspected this was coming."

Iolaus realized he was gnawing at his thumbnail and stopped. "Yeah. I've been thinking that too, although I've been trying to avoid it. Herc . . ."

Hercules stood up, silencing his friend. "Maybe we should go home. Wasn't old Theopolis interested in having you work in his forge? Since his son died, he hasn't had anyone to help him. I know he has asked you."

"Yeah." Iolaus slid his back and his sword back into place, wondering if some day, his sword would just be a momento hanging over his fireplace, a reminder of a life he no longer lived. While the thought sent a small stab of pain through his heart, he found himself imaging telling his circle of rapt children the stories of adventure that went along with the sword. "You do understand."

Hercules clapped him on the shoulder, managing to keep the tears that threatened to well up in his eyes under control. "Yeah, I do. And who knows, someday, when I'm as old as you, maybe I'll want to retire."

"Well, if you meet the right woman. . ."

Hercules laughed. He suspected, in his heart, that there would never be the right woman for him, never the hearth and home that Iolaus craved. Still, it would be nice to think of Iolaus safe and warm, in a loving home, surrounded by an adoring wife and a handful of curly-haired children.

"So," said Hercules as they started back to the main track, "you didn't tell me much about this Ania person besides she was pretty. Does she have a decent dowry?"

Iolaus laughed, following his friend. Maybe, after a few months settled down, working with the old village blacksmith, he'd be bored and ready to follow Hercules again. Maybe Ania would tell him to go soak his head, she wanted to serve Artemis or Hestia or was already engaged. Maybe he'd come to his senses even before they got home.

Still, home did have a nice ring to it. His home. Smiling to himself, Iolaus followed Hercules to his new life.

April 2001