Fever Dreams
by Amorette

I had been heading up the road towards Corinth, perfectly calm, planning to meet Iolaus there and then we were going to visit Iphicles. The weather was lovely, I had succeeded in convincing a rather nasty sea monster that it really wouldn't enjoy eating a couple of virgin sacrifices, since it preferred fish, and was in a good mood. I was even humming when I noticed that all the traffic on the road was heading away from Corinth.

I stopped to ask a man why and he said, sounding horrified, "Haven't you heard? Plague. And you'd best be turning around."

So I took off at a dead run for the city. By the time I got there, I found out that the rumor of plague was an exaggeration. I passed a few people I knew and they explained that there was a summer sickness going around, not particularly fatal, just annoying. One man told me it was mostly a matter of a fever, listlessness and joint aches. Makes you feel like a tired hundred year old for about a week, he told me, then you spend another week getting your energy back and then you're fine. He hadn't even heard of anyone dying from it besides a couple of very elderly people and one man who was known to have a bad heart.

So Iolaus, whose heart was strong and was far from elderly, should be fine. I told myself that about thousand times as I headed up the quiet streets to the palace. When I burst into Iphicles' palace, he was waiting for me, looking a bit pale himself. He gave me a wan smile and a weak hug and assured me that Iolaus was sleeping and would be fine in a few days.

"I've been out of my sick bed about two days," Iphicles explained. He was thinner than when I last saw him, and his hair was cut short because of the fever. He wasn't even fully dressed but wore a robe over a long, plain gown. "I have to admit, I almost enjoyed it the first few days." He smiled as he gestured towards the scrolls on his desk. "No paperwork."

"Where is Iolaus?" I blurted out, which made Iphicles shake his head.

"In his usual room. And he's fine. I mean, he's sick but he's going to be fine. You ache all over. . .well, not you, you don't get sick. . .but I ached all over . All I did was sleep. Then one morning, I woke up feeling weak as a newborn kitten but otherwise fine. Iolaus has been sick about three days and probably has three days or so to until the fever runs it course." Then he laughed and said, "Go."

I managed to keep myself down to a brisk walk so that I didn't run someone down. The halls were quiet, too, most of the usual residents sick or on the mend. I encountered the royal physician in the corridor outside Iolaus' room. He greeted me, laying a hand on my arm. I had to restrain myself not to shake it off and rush into the room but I knew I'd want to hear what he had to say.

"Ah, Hercules. Well, I presume?"

I had to unclench my teeth to say, "I'm fine, Paeon."

He gave me a warm chuckle and shook his head. He had served Jason for many years and knew me well.

"Iolaus will be, too. All he does is sleep right now, wake up to piss and drink some water, complain a little, and fall back asleep. Perfectly normal for what he has. I know you hate it when he's sick but he is human."

I nodded, reaching for the door handle.

"We cut his hair, of course, and he probably looks worse than he really is so don't panic, lad."

I almost laughed at the that address. His comfort and care gave me some reassurance. I entered the room. It was a moderately sized suite, with a small sitting room and the sleeping chamber beyond. Facing the gulf, the tall windows drew in cool breezes which were even now fluttering the curtains.

A nurse, an one-armed soldier whose name escaped me, was coming out of the bedchamber, a shallow bowl in his hand. He gave me an encouraging smile as he walked past. I hurried to the bedside. Iolaus lay on his side, a sheet pulled up to his shoulders. It was a good thing the physician had warned me. Iolaus' hair was cut shorter than I had seen it in years, barely long enough to curl. He was pale and soundly asleep, mouth open, drooling onto the pillow. I held one hand a scant fingers breadth above him and felt the unnatural heat rising off his body.

He stirred and his eyes opened.

"Herc?" His voice was weak and hoarse.

I tugged a handy stool close to the bed and sat on it, resisting the urge to touch his forehead. I could usually excuse my checking his temperature by brushing his hair back but that wasn't a problem now.

"Hello," I said, trying to smile. He saw through me, of course.

"Sorry."

I snorted. "You're human, remember. You get sick. Besides, everyone tells me it's nothing."

Iolaus shifted a little. "Not bad. I ache all over and can hardly stay awake long enough to yawn but I've had worse."

Much worse. I could remember some horrible fevers that Iolaus had suffered through. Lung and blood fevers, fluxes of the bowels, the fevers born of wounds gone bad. I had washed him and watched over countless times and it never got any easier. This, a minor summer sickness, in the comfort of the Corinthian royal palace, with nurses and physicians on call, was hardly worrisome.

So why did a black cloud of foreboding hang over my thoughts?

"Sea monster?" asked Iolaus weakly, letting me arrange the pillows for him.

"Taken care of. Turns out, he didn't even want to eat the sacrifices, just thought it was required of him."

"Bet the story is funnier than you tell it."

I laughed and watched Iolaus' eyes close. A simple fever. Nothing more. Nothing to be afraid of. So why was I afraid?

I sat there, listening to Iolaus breathe, for some time. Another nurse returned, this one with two arms, whom I hadn't met before. I introduced myself quietly and he assured me, as everyone else had, that Iolaus would be fine. The fever will peak in a day or two, he told me, and Iolaus might even be delirious for a few hours but that is a sign the disease is running its course.

Delirium. Wonderful. I managed to join Iphicles for a light supper. He barely hid his smile as I gave him a quick outline of my efforts with the sea serpent, then he waved me off, telling me he was going to bed early.

Instead of sleeping in my usual room, which was adjacent to Iolaus' and adjoined it through the sitting rooms, I moved a bench next to Iolaus' bed, ignoring the sound of his snickering. The night nurse left me fresh drinking water, lightly mixed with wine and poppy, a bowl of washing water scented with bergamot, a pile of soft cloths and two clean chamber pots. I sat up half the night, using the water to help cool Iolaus' fever. He refused my assistance to relieve himself but let me change the sheets for clean ones I found in a chest, and let me talk softly to him, nodding and murmuring now and then.

At some point, well before dawn, I felt slightly flushed and my back ached. I lay down and slept for a few hours, waking feeling a little weak and realized I had, too, had had the sickness, it passing in a few hours rather than days.

As I sat up, I realized the nurses were both standing over Iolaus, talking quietly. I got to my feet, staggering a little, and they looked up at me, surprised.

"His fever is up," said one nurse, "so it should break soon."

I pushed them both aside to sit next to Iolaus. I could feel the heat radiating off his body. He opened his eyes, which were glazed with his fever, and looked up at me.

"Herc?"

"I'm here."

"I feel awful."

Iolaus had to be very sick before he admitted it. I had an urge to laugh. Instead, I took a damp cloth from the basin on the bedside table and brushed it over his face.

"It's the fever," I said, trying to sound reassuring. "Remember?"

Iolaus gave me a dirty look. "I'm not delirious, yet. I'm just telling you I feel lousy. Like someone hit me all over. Now give me something to drink, you miserable healthy half god."

I got him a drink of water, sweetened with wine and then made bitter again with willow. He drank it and I was grateful the fever wasn't making him sick to his stomach. I worried more when he was feverish and couldn't keep water down.

"I was sick, you know," I said defensively, fluffing the pillows.

Iolaus sighed. "Just not for long and not seriously. I know." He gave me a weak smile, that told me he didn't really blame me for my superior constitution, then closed his eyes. I pulled the sheet down and ran the cooling cloth over his chest.

"He's not too bad," I whispered to the physician when he came to check Iolaus.

"He'll probably get worse before he gets better but he will get better." Paeon patted me on the arm, adding, "Be sure you eat something. Can't have you getting ill."

I didn't tell him I had been ill. A few hours slightly feverish and the weakness had already passed. Not for the first time, I wished I could take Iolaus' sickness on myself. If we shared it, the way we shared so many things, it would pass more quickly. How many times had I tended Iolaus, sick or injured, and waited while his purely mortal body healed.? He had taken care of me a time or two, it's true, but I always healed so quickly. I felt guilty. Hardly an unusual condition for me.

Old Paeon was right. Iolaus got worse. Within the hour, I could feel the rise in his temperature. He was restless, tugging at the sheet. When he opened his eyes again, I knew he couldn't really see me.

"Herc?" His voice was weaker than before. He was looking directly at me but his gaze was unfocused.

"I'm here," I answered automatically, laying another cloth on his chest. I suspected he didn't really see me and his next words proved it.

"Herc, where are you?" He tried to sit up and I pushed him down. It took no effort at all.

"I'm here," I repeated. "Right here. I'm not going anywhere."

He seemed to see me, squinting. One hand caught at my arm. "Don't go," he said, sounding breathless and desperate. "Please, don't leave me. Please. I don't want to be alone."

The sound of his voice nearly broke my heart. "I'm not leaving," I said again. "I'm right here and I'm staying here. By your side. Don't worry."

He relaxed a little at that, lying back on the pillows and closing his eyes. I wondered how long we had to wait. He slept restlessly, then tried to sit up again, calling my name.

"I'm here," I reassured him, taking his hand in mine. It was shaking with fever tremors and felt as if he had been holding it to the fire in his forge. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Herc?" His eyes darted around the room, distracted by something only he could see. "Is that you?"

"It's me, Iolaus. I'm right here."

"I can hardly hear you. Hercules?"

I felt as if someone had struck me. I had heard him say that before, as he tried to break free of Dahak's possession. Was he remembering that in his fever dream?

"Iolaus." I leaned forward so we were practically nose to nose. His eyes were still unfocused. "I'm here."

"Don't go," he said, trying to squeeze my hand. "Please, don't leave me. I know I'm not worth it but please. . .take pity on me. . .don't leave me. . ." Tears sprang up in his eyes. His voice fell to a whisper. "Don't abandon me!"

Before I could say anything to comfort him, he went boneless, dropping back to the bed.

"I'm here," I said over and over, repeating it like a mantra as I washed him, wishing I could do more. "I'd never leave you, Iolaus. Never."

But I had. More than once and the last time I had abandoned him, the whole world had paid for my callousness. I wiped my tears away as I realized what horror held Iolaus in its grip. Over a year since I got him back, I thought, over a year and his constant, buoyant presence at my side made me think that he had forgiven me for leaving him behind in Sumeria.

"Oh, Iolaus," I murmured as he stirred but didn't wake. "I'm so sorry."

All day I sat beside him, refusing to leave him. Iphicles came in once to engage in a rather loud conversation with Paeon about how Iolaus' fever delirium was a good sign and showed the illness was running its course. I gave them what I suspect was a rather disgusted look at their transparency. Iphicles shook his head, patted me on the shoulder, and left.

Several times, Iolaus awoke and it was the same each time. He said he couldn't hear me clearly as he begged me not to go, not to leave him. He pleaded with me, telling me how much I meant to him and asking me to forgive him for being weak and worthless. I spoke to him as calmly as I could with my tears running down my cheeks and told him, again and again, I would never, ever leave him. That he meant the world to me. That I had learned that no one could ever replace him at my side. That I loved him more than I had ever loved anyone and would never abandon him.

I know that Paeon came in more than once, and the basin at my side was regularly refilled with cool water but I was aware of no one, of nothing, but Iolaus, sick and pleading me with me, or sick and sleeping, still twitching in his fever and pain.

He woke on last time, the fever raging in him, his skin dry, his lips cracking and stared sightlessly up and murmured, "Don't leave me, Herc. Please. Come back. I love you."

In spite of the fever, I pulled him into my arms, horrified at how hot he felt. Maybe Paeon was wrong. Maybe some people did die of the fever. Maybe Iolaus had something worse that only seemed to be the summer fever. I held Iolaus and told him, over and over, that I would never leave him. Then a convulsion hit. I had to let him go as his muscles locked, his body pulled into a rigid arc. I didn't even realize I had started to call for Paeon until the old man was at my side.

"Good grief, Hercules," the physician said as Iolaus went limp. "Haven't you ever seen a fever convulsion before? I don't know how Iolaus puts up with you. Do you panic like this all the time?"

I didn't answer. Instead, Iolaus did. His voice almost inaudible, he whispered, "Yes, he does."

I looked down at Iolaus, who was drenched with the sweat of a breaking fever. He gave me a weak smile, shook his head and closed his eyes. I felt the tears spill over my cheeks as Paeon muttered beside me, giving Iolaus a quick examination.

"I told you," said Paeon, "he was going to be fine." He signaled one of the attendants. "Wash him." As I started, he tapped me firmly in the chest. "You, go eat something. Get some fresh air. Get a grip."

Embarrassed, I gave Iolaus a last look and followed Paeon's instructions. I went in search of my brother and found Iphicles, fully dressed, in his office, reading a scroll. He glanced up at me as I came in. Something must have shown in my face because he leapt to his feet.

"Iolaus?" he gasped.

"Fine." I sat heavily in a chair. There was some bread and fruit on a table, handy for Iphicles to snack on as he worked. That almost made me smile. Like Iolaus, Iphicles liked to eat almost constantly. I picked up an apple and bit into it, the sweet taste clearing my mouth. "Iph. . ."

Iphicles sat back down, frowning. He set the scroll aside and poured us each a cup of wine. "Want to tell me why you look as if Iolaus died, then?"

I sighed, taking the cup. I stared into it. "He was delirious."

"So? I was delirious. I saw grapevines growing on the bed canopy and kept trying to get up and prune them." Iphicles chuckled. "They really needed pruning. I kept telling Paeon he had to get the royal vintner into my bedroom to prune the grapevines."

I looked up and met his eyes. Our mother had taught both of us how to prune grapes.

"Pity," he continued, taking a sip of wine. "They looked good other than needing a pruning. Bet I could have gotten a good crop off them."

My brother had his faults. He was prone to sulking, taking things too seriously, quick-tempered and easily insulted. But he wasn't stupid. Or insensitive. He knew that something Iolaus had said or done while out of his mind with fever had upset me.

I took a deep breath. "He kept begging me not to leave him. . .abandon him."

Iphicles raised an eyebrow.

"Iph, when he. . ." I couldn't say it. My throat was tight. Iphicles waited.

"In Sumeria. . .I left him behind."

"Hercules," said my older brother, his voice soft and kind, "he was dead."

I looked up, surprised at how concerned Iphicles looked. Then again, Iphicles knew as much about loss as I did.

"Yes, he was dead. . .but if I hadn't left him behind. . .if I hadn't run away. . ."

Iphicles sighed. "He was dead. Although saying that about man who I had dinner with a couple of weeks ago is rather disturbing. He was dead at the time. What could you have done?"

I sprang out of my chair, agitated and unable to sit still. "I could have brought him home! Home to his friends and family! To rest beside his wife and child. Dahak couldn't have possessed him so easily if I had been there." I paced across the room, then back again, aware of Iphicles' eyes on me. "If I had given him the hero's pyre he deserved, there wouldn't have been a body for Dahak to possess!"

"And then Dahak would have moved against someone else, somewhere else, and we might not be having this conversation because that person might not have had a friend like to you to help him."

My older brother might be sulky and short tempered but he was also intelligent. Jason had chosen well. Kingship suited Iphicles and he was growing wiser and more reasoned with it. I stalked back to my chair and threw myself into it.

"Hercules." He said my name softly, with genuine affection. "It's in the past. Iolaus is alive enough to get sick. The world was saved by the two of you from horrors beyond reckoning. I know you feel guilty about what you did after Sumeria. . ." He gave me a fond smile. "and you deserve to, but maybe the Fates knew what they were doing. And I know, if you asked Iolaus, he would tell you that he won't change one thing. He saved a person he cared for and, in the end, the world."

"But he thought I abandoned him. . ."

"And I thought the grapevines on my bed posts needed pruning."

Good point. I even managed to smile, at the thought of my brother in his sick bed, demanding someone prune the grapevines.

"Go to him, Hercules. Talk to him. I know you hate doing it but the only one who can absolve you of your guilt is Iolaus."

"You know, Iph, I think I liked you better when you were an idiot."

He laughed, tossing a cushion at me. I caught it and tossed it back. Iphicles was right.

When I returned to Iolaus' room, I found him sitting up, glaring at bowl of broth on a tray on his lap.

"I've been sick for a week," he whined as soon as he saw me, "and haven't eaten solid food in all that time and just look what old Paeon says I have to eat. Drink, maybe."

"You've only been sick five days," I replied, "and I'll get you something solid to eat if you can manage that."

Iolaus glared at me. He started to reach for the spoon but I saw how his hand trembled. He settled for picking up the bowl and sipping from the rim.

"Not bad," he said with a shrug. "At least it has some flavor besides willow bark." He took another sip, then gave me a long look over the edge of the bowl. " What's wrong now? I'm fine. All right, tired but give me a couple of days and some real food and I'll be fine."

I felt my throat grow tight but I had to say it. "Iolaus, while you were delirious. . ."

My voice trailed off as I saw the look on his face. He had set the bowl down and was now staring at it as if it were intensely interesting. He looked downright embarrassed.

"Sorry about that," he mumbled, turning the bowl on the tray.

"Sorry? What do you have to apologize for?" Before I could protest further, he looked up at me, his eyes wide.

"I know, it all happened ages ago and I should have gotten over it by now."

"I wouldn't call it ages ago."

Iolaus shrugged. "Most of my lifetime ago." He sighed and picked up the bowl for another sip. "More than thirty years. Feels like an age to me."

I had started to open my mouth to say something to the effect that Sumeria was a lifetime ago, in one sense, when what Iolaus said registered. "Thirty years ago?"

"Yeah." He took another sip of broth. "See, even though you were sitting here next to me, I kept seeing you. . .young you. . .going off to the Academy."

Now I was confused and said so. Iolaus finished the broth and I took the bowl and tray away. He leaned back on his pillows, looking genuinely exhausted, but still managed a weak smile.

"I kept seeing you walking away, heading off to the Academy without me." He laughed almost silently. "Even after all these years, I guess I remember how miserable I felt when you left me."

"I was here," I said.

"I know." Iolaus closed his eyes. "But that was grown-up you. I was seeing young you walking away, away from me, from us, and I was afraid I'd lose you." He opened his eyes a little. "Silly, huh?"

"No," I replied, resting my hand over his on the coverlet. "I kept saying I'd never leave you but I guess you couldn't hear me."

"Not very well." He yawned and closed his eyes again. "Those darn blue sheep."

"What?"

"Blue sheep." He waved his free hand vaguely around the room. "Room was full of them. Bright blue. And they were singing."

"Singing?"

"Not a song." He yawned again. "Just sort of notes. You know, la, la, la, la. Four different notes in harmony. Very annoying. And I when I looked over at you--now you--you had this really big blue sheep on your lap and he was singing loudest of all." Another enormous yawn. His voice was slurred and sleepy. "So I guess the sheep distracted me from noticing you hadn't gone anywhere."

"Sheep."

"Bright blue. . .yawn. . .singing sheep. I knew you'd never leave me again but those darn sheep kept distracting me."

"Sheep."

One last yawn and a wink and grin. "Blue sheep. Save a fortune on indigo."

Then he pulled his hand away from me so he could roll over and go properly to sleep. I sat there staring at him. Blue sheep. I laughed, knowing that Iolaus was so deeply asleep he wouldn't be disturbed.

I looked around the room, trying to picture it full of blue singing sheep. And me, walking away from Iolaus. I pulled the blanket up over his shoulder, brushed the short hair on the top of his head, and left the room. Many years ago, Iolaus had been afraid I was leaving him but now, now I was here to stay and I think he knew it.

Blue sheep. I chuckled. I couldn't wait to tell Iphicles about the blue sheep and, later, Iolaus about Iph wanted the grapes pruned. Sheep and grapes. I shook my head and laughed.

July 2003